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oddinary4bts · 3 months

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When the End Comes | epilogue (jjk)

☆summary: when the weather seems to work against you and Jungkook for your wedding day, you decide to change plans last minute. In any other situation, it would have made you freak out - but how can you freak out, when you're getting married to the love of your life?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: marriage!au, fluff, smut

☆warnings: cursing, mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, mentions of Jungkook's injury, mentions of breakups, Jungkook's scars, explicit content: wedding night sex, nipple play, a tie around OC's neck, jerking off, oral sex (male and female receiving), mouth fucking, fingering, dirty talking, squirting, ball fondling, shower sex, unprotected sex (they're married give them a break haha)

☆word count: 12.1k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: Finally finished the epilogue for you guys! I hope you love it just as much as I loved writing it :') it's going to be hard to say goodbye to this couple, but I hope you love their ending <3 Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆☆☆☆☆

My heart is going onto you So be the heart that I'm choosing, heart that I'm choosing Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, July 6th

The rising sun turns your bedroom into liquid gold, slowly dragging you out of sleep. You bask in the gentle warmth, instinctively turning around to cuddle closer to Jungkook.

In his sleep, Jungkook wraps an arm around you, pulling you ever so closer until your head is pressed to his chest. His heartbeat sings in your ear and you listen to the melody, wishing it would make you fall back asleep.

Alas, your thoughts trot to tomorrow, and like a kid on Christmas morning, too excited to fall back asleep, sleep evades you. So you just enjoy Jungkook’s proximity, sighing softly as he brushes a kiss on the top of your head.

You smile against him, kissing the skin of his chest against which your face is pressed. Jungkook shifts a little bit, his breathing growing slightly uneven, the only indication that he’s waking up as well.

“Morning,” he whispers, voice gruff with sleep.

“Morning,” you echo, and you try to pull back to take a look at his face, but he holds you tighter.

You chuckle, and you snake an arm around his waist, gently caressing the skin of his back. The moment is peaceful, serene, the kind of moments you never want to step away from. They have been frequent, since you moved in with him in Seoul. Life with him has been perfect, like it was at the very beginning of your relationship. Now, no long distance can ever create a wedge between the two of you - every decision you make together, for the both of you.

You’ve been falling in love with him more every day.

“Let’s stay here until tomorrow,” Jungkook whispers, his hold on you momentarily tightening.

You peck his chest again. “I wish we could.”

He whines, a sound that vibrates in his ribcage, and this time you laugh. “Please?”

“You don’t want to get married anymore?” you ask, faking offense as you try to push away from him again.

He doesn’t let you go, though you fight against him for a little longer this time around.

“On the contrary,” he replies. “I kind of wish we’d get married faster.”

It’s a struggle, but you manage to raise your head to look at him. From this angle, all you can see is his sharp jawline and the mole on his neck.

“Why?”

“Because I love you?”

His words make your heart race in your chest, like they always do. Because no amount of declaration of love will ever be enough to stop the uprising of butterflies, to slow down the organ that beats for him.

That has been beating for him since a July night eight years ago. Still, when you were apart, it kept on beating for him, and you know that it will keep on beating for him until you draw your very last breath, at the end of the long road still ahead of the two of you.

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

“I know.”

A comfortable silence settles around the two of you again, and you believe you might be able to fall back asleep after all. Unfortunately for you, Bam heard the two of you, and his wagging tail bangs against the dresser as the dog walks over to Jungkook’s side of the bed, propping his front paws on the mattress so that he can reach for Jungkook.

Jungkook shrieks, sitting up, and you burst out laughing, rolling on your back as he lets go of you.

“He licked me,” Jungkook complains, his familiar pout on display.

You sit up, pressing a gentle kiss on his soft lips. “Maybe I should lick you too.”

His pout melts into a devilish smirk. “I’ve got ideas of where you could lick, mmh.”

You laugh as he tackles you, pushing you back down on the bed. Bam takes that as a cue to jump on the bed, and the next five minutes are spent in giggles and laughs and shrieks, a tangled mess of your own little family. When you all finally calm down, Jungkook slips out of bed with the dog in tow so that he can feed him, and you enjoy a few more minutes of peace before you follow them.

When you walk into the kitchen, Jungkook is busying himself with plating the soy eggs you’ve been eating for breakfast, and he offers you a grin over his shoulder. You think the grin would be enough to make you fly, and you smile in return as you walk over to him, loosely wrapping your arms around his dainty waist.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Mmh.”

He laughs, gently patting your arm. “You’ll get your food soon enough, fear not.”

You hum again, pressing a kiss on his soft skin. His muscles flex as he moves, and you let go of him, heading to the table. Bam trots to you, and you pet the dog as Jungkook finishes with breakfast, carrying it to you. He sits next to you, pecking your cheek as he puts down a plate in front of you.

“Thank you,” you say, immediately diving into the food. It makes Jungkook laugh, even as he follows suit.

As you eat, Jungkook grabs his phone from his pocket, scrolling on Instagram. You look at the screen as he does so, resting your head on his shoulder when you’re done with the eggs. It’s something you also often do - looking at memes and the likes together, spending time in silence, together.

“I hope the forecast has changed for tomorrow,” Jungkook says through a yawn as he switches to the weather app.

It hasn’t. The forecast still announces a rainstorm, and you hide your face in his neck as you groan.

“What are we supposed to do?” you ask. “We can’t have everyone sit in the rain.”

“The reception hall said we can be there early,” Jungkook reminds you. “We can just have the ceremony there instead.”

You pout, not replying. Because you had planned to have the ceremony outside - you’d even wanted to have it happen at night, under a blanket of stars. But it wasn’t possible, so you’d settled for a ceremony outside in a field. Unlike traditional Korean weddings, you’d also decided to have a reception after, so Jungkook has a point.

But you really don’t feel like getting married indoors.

“We should just cancel everything,” you whine. “Let’s wait until we can have our perfect wedding.”

Jungkook leans his head on top of yours. “It’s sunny today.” His voice holds mischief, and you sit back to look at him. His eyes twinkle like stars in the night sky, and for a moment, you just want to get lost in his gaze.

Until an idea sparks in your mind.

“Can we move everything to today?” you ask.

He purses his lips. “Jimin, Bridget and Heather are landing today,” he reminds you. “I thought you wanted to introduce Jimin and Somi.”

Somi. A friend you met during your spinning classes. She’s been a gift here in Korea, helping you adjust in ways that Jungkook couldn’t. More than that, Somi is a hopeless romantic, and something about the way she carries herself makes you think that Jimin would like her.

Maybe she’s what Jimin needs to finally move on from Scottie.

“Right,” you let out. “Fuck.”

Jungkook shrugs. “We could get married and then still have the reception tomorrow.”

Your gaze widens. “You think your dad would accept?”

Indeed, Jungkook’s father is your officiant, since your own father wouldn’t have any legal right to marry you in South Korea. It was still an easy decision though - Jungkook’s family has been treating you like you’ve always been a part of them ever since you’ve met them, all those years ago.

“Definitely,” Jungkook affirms. “I can call him right now.”

“What about the witnesses?” you ask.

“Ask your dad to come, and my mother or my brother can sign for me.”

It seems so simple. You do feel a little guilty thinking about all of your friends who came all the way here to see you get married, but then again, you think they would understand.

They all know that you and Jungkook have always been a little more on the secretive side, even when you were young and dumb college students. So you don’t think any of them would hold it against you…

“Jungkook…”

“Yes?”

“Should we really?”

Even as you ask the question, you already know you want to. Because declaring your love in a room full of people feels like a lot of pressure, even though all of them are already aware of that same love. But to you, it feels impersonal, and you’d rather just do it alone with Jungkook and a few key people.

Maybe it’s the reason why the forecast has been battling against you. Like a sign that you aren’t supposed to get married in that field anyway.

“Do you want to?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head to the side as his features grow serious.

You nod once. “I think it’s a good idea…” you trail off, wetting your lips. “Especially considering the rain.”

“And then I’d get to call you wife today,” he says, smiling softly.

“And I’d get to call you husband.”

His smile slowly widens. “Then let’s do it.”

“What about everyone else though? What do we say?”

Jungkook flicks your nose, winking at you. “They don’t need to know.”

“And the hairstylist and makeup artist?”

“You can still get glammed up for the reception.”

“And Mingyu?”

“I’ll tell him to come today.”

You hold his big doe eyes for a moment, pursing your lips. Your heart syncs with his, warmth filling your soul. It feels like that July night sky, like his lips on yours and a reunion after months apart. Time stretches, and for a moment, you see all of your life in front of you, and all the love and the happiness and joy that it will hold.

Eyes slowly lining with silver, you finally say, “Let’s do it.”

*****

The field is lined with wildflowers, swimming in the breeze. Their fragrance floats in the air, and bees flutter from flower to flower, collecting the pollen. Fat clouds roll in the sky above, plump and white, and the sun shines, endlessly.

The arch where you were supposed to get married tomorrow is already there, a beautiful contraption of entwined vines. White and lilac balloons were supposed to be added to it, but the lack of them doesn’t deter you.

Not when the man you love is waiting for you, right under it. Eyes shining with unshed tears, as your hand tightens on your father’s arm.

“Let’s do it,” your father whispers for just you to hear.

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “What if it’s the wrong thing to do?”

You can’t help the anxiety. It isn’t even what you truly feel - just the anxiety of an important moment in your life, coming sooner than expected. Your question makes your father laugh.

“I’ve never seen a man loving a woman as much as the kid loves you,” he reassures you. “Put him out of his misery.”

You snort, though it sounds more like a sob, as a tear rolls on your cheek. “I love him so much, too.”

Your father pats your hand, and then starts walking you towards where Jungkook is waiting for you, his mother and brother next to him, his father behind him. All of them look at you with tears in their eyes, and you fight the next wave that threatens to spill on your cheeks.

Louis, Isabelle, Jungkook’s brother’s wife and their kids are standing on each side of the makeshift aisle, as the chairs weren’t delivered yet. Still, they also look at you. For a moment, you picture your friends - Jiho, Hobi, Somi, Heather, Bridget, Jo, Taehyung, Kiko, Yoongi, Jin, Valeria, Jimin, Lance and Chaeyeong… You picture all of them sharing this moment of love with you. You do feel bad for them - especially for Jiho and Heather, who were supposed to be your bridesmaids - but then again, you’ll see them tonight.

For your pretend bachelorette.

Everyone present right now promised to keep this instant secret, at least until the reception tomorrow. Just so that you can tell your friends yourself when the moment comes.

You take a step forward, and then another, the distance between you and Jungkook slowly diminishing until you’re standing right in front of him, close enough to see the scar on his left cheek and the mole under his bottom lip. You see everything and nothing at once, your tears blinding you until you blink them away.

Jungkook is not faring any better. Two tears are rolling down his right cheek, and he wipes them with the back of his hand, chuckling softly.

He looks beautiful in his tuxedo, the form tight to his body. He looks massive, strong, yet so delicate in the way his features soften as he looks at you. As he melts like ice in the sun, like you do as well. You melt like that winter of the months away from him never existed, like you never broke up for those terrible months. The memory of them left a scar on your heart, but as you look at him right now, you think the scar is disappearing, like maybe it really never existed.

You look down at yourself, at the white dress on your body. It’s tight to your frame, but the fabric is stretchy enough for it to remain comfortable. Its off-the-shoulder style is perfect for the warm temperature, and the lace that decorates it is beautiful, yet simple.

Jungkook takes you in, whispering, “You’re beautiful,”, as his father starts reciting the usual wedding speech. As much as you want to focus, to paint this moment in your memory, to be able to relive it again and again, it flashes before you until you finally reach the vows.

Jungkook scrapes his throat, then lets out a small, pained sob as new tears roll down his cheeks. You cry in time with him, laughing through it all, as you wipe the tears on his face.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath to calm down. “Wow. I…” he trails off, chuckling again, and his hands close around yours in the space between you. “I never believed we’d finally reach this day,” Jungkook finally says. “For years, I’ve known that you were the one. Hell, I knew the first day I saw you.” He chuckles, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. “I think that’s why you got on my nerves so much.” You swat his arm, laughing, and he winks at you. “I think then I was just scared, because I knew just how much I was going to love you someday, and it first scared me. But when I finally got to be with you, I realized there is nothing to be scared about when it comes to my love for you.” He pauses, blinking a few times. “Except when you get mad at me. That’s scary.”

Soft laughter surrounds you, that of the closest people in your life right now. Mingyu snaps pictures, and your brain zeroes in on the sound for a few seconds until Jungkook speaks again.

“And then I lost you.” You shut your eyes, the pain of the few months away awakening inside of you. “I hated myself for those few months, but even then, I think I knew it was always going to be us two. Whether in this life or another, I knew I’d find you again.” His voice, heavy with emotion, wavers on the last words, and it takes him a moment of breathing in and out before he’s able to continue. “I will forever be thankful that I found you again in this life. That I’ll get to spend every day of my life with you.”

The wind is gentle on your features, almost as gentle as Jungkook’s touch is. Your hands tighten on his fingers for a few seconds, to give him the strength to finish.

“That we’ll get to share the dance of our lives, until death does us part,” he finishes. “I love you, Y/n.”

That last bit was barely over a whisper, yet it clangs through you, vibrates in your soul beautifully. You laugh softly, whispering, “I love you too, Jungkook. So, so much.”

He laughs too, and then you both blink away tears, right as you take a few deep breaths, trying to get ready for your own vows.

You’ve prepared them a while ago. As a matter of fact, the days following his proposal you’d known what you were going to say. You’d almost suggested getting married right then and there, though you don’t regret anything.

Because today feels right. It feels right in ways you can’t comprehend, like it’s time for an entirely new cataclysm, but one that creates.

One that creates a life instead of destroying. That creates a world for just you and him, something you’ll share until the very end.

“Jungkook,” you start. “I’ve loved you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. Even when I didn’t know what love was, you were there in my heart, slowly making the place yours. When we danced under the stars eight years ago, I knew we would make it to this day. That we’d get married, that we’d always be partners. And I want us to be partners. I want us to make every important decision together, to love and hold each other. To dance under a thousand different night skies, to grow old and grumpy together. Every day, I will love you. I will look into your eyes and know that they were made for me.”

You pause, wiping tears on your cheeks. “I also want to thank you. Thank you for being patient with me, for welcoming me back into your life after those months last year. Thank you for still loving me, for still wanting me even though I broke your heart. And thank you, all those years ago, for being there for me, even though we were at an awkward place in life. The help you granted me when I got kicked out kept me going, and I really, really thank you for it. I just hope I can repay you properly through the years.”

“You already have,” Jungkook chokes out.

You want to wrap him in your arms, but you resist, instead holding his gaze with all the love in your heart. You think your souls are merging, though you reckon you’ve been one for far longer than this moment already.

You’ve been one since you first chose to love him, and he you.

“You can exchange the rings,” Jungkook’s father says, and he sounds just as choked on emotion as the two of you.

So you do, Jungkook gently pushing the ring on your finger. It’s pretty, delicate, similar to the engagement ring he’d gotten you. Though the wedding ring sports emeralds instead, shaped like leaves. It’s fairy-like, and you smile at its simple beauty before putting Jungkook’s ring on his finger.

He raises his hand to look at the ring, smiling brightly. As his father proclaims to kiss the bride, Jungkook’s hand shifts towards you, before gently grabbing your chin. He tilts your head back, and your eyes dip to his mouth as he wets his lips.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he says, and then he’s crashing his mouth on yours, ravishing a passionate kiss on your lips.

You wrap your arms around his neck as he dips you, unable to stop the smile that grows on your lips despite the intensity of the kiss. Jungkook is smiling too, and he straightens you as he pulls away before pecking your lips once more.

“I love you so fucking much too.”

*****

Lying to your friends has been feeling like a game you can play too well. Or maybe it’s only because you’re still reeling from getting married, though you have yet to call Jungkook your husband. You’re waiting until tomorrow, maybe to save something for your wedding night.

It’s hard to tell why you both refrained. Maybe you just really want something special for the wedding night, for the moment you’ll finally be embracing in your marital bed, limbs entwined until one can’t tell where you end and where he begins.

Your blood heats up at the thought. Earlier, when you were forced to part ways, you’d almost decided to stay. To stay and fuck him right then and there, to consummate this union between you and him. From the way he’d kissed you, driving his knee between your legs, you know he wanted it too.

But time ran out, and Jiho knocked on your door, stealing you away.

You shake your head, trying to clear your mind so that you can focus on your friends. On the dinner going on around you, with too much alcohol for it to be safe. When you told your friends that the ceremony was supposedly moved inside and later in the day, they’d decided that drinking more was the way to go.

So maybe you shake your head to clear your mind from the alcohol as you dive into the food. It’s delicious, and you eat and laugh and smile with your friends, loving how Somi fits right in despite the language barrier. Both Jiho and Chaeyeoung also speak Korean, so it’s been helping for sure, Somi chatting happily with them.

You sit back in your chair, looking over your group of friends. Heather, with her arm on the chair behind Bridget, smiling broadly at something Bridget is saying. Jiho, fast in a conversation with Somi and Chaeyeoung about a group Jungkook was photographing last week. Jo and Kiko, subtly trying to pour shots for the both of them, the latter’s cheeks already flushed red. Valeria watching them, eyes crinkled with happiness.

You love them so freaking much.

You wonder if Jungkook is sitting through a similar dinner with the rest of the friend group. You wonder if he, too, is thinking of you, imagining the moment you’ll finally be reunited. Imagining the moment you’ll be able to put the ring back on your finger so that everyone will know you’re his and he’s yours.

“Hey, are you planning to give some of that to the rest of us?” you ask Jo and Kiko, and Jo startles, spilling alcohol over the rim of her shot glass.

“Oh,” Jo lets out. “You guys want some?”

“Aren’t we partying tonight?” you remind her.

Jo smirks wickedly. “We sure are.”

And so she pours shots for everyone. You clink the glasses together, not caring for the spilled alcohol, and knock it back. The burn down your throat is devilish, and you know that tonight might just be the time of your life, in different ways than tomorrow night will be.

You notice Valeria looking at her still full shot glass before putting it down on the table. She finds you looking, and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Wait,” you let out, and everyone turns to look at you. “Are you…?”

Valeria chuckles, eyes filling with tears. “Yeah, I am.”

Everybody screams and shrieks in happiness, congratulating her. She beams under the attention, and you find yourself blinking back tears for her and Jin. They’d been trying for kids for a few years now, but they’d been unlucky so far. So you’re really happy for them, and you get up to hug your friend tight.

“I didn’t mean to steal your shine,” she whispers.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her as you pull away. “I’m just happy for you.”

She smiles, nodding her head. “Thank you.”

You pat her shoulder, walking back to your seat so that the other girls can hug and congratulate her. Questions about how far along she is and if she wants a girl or a boy are exchanged, and you watch the scene unfold with a teary-eyed smile on your lips.

Jiho, sitting next to you, leans closer to you. “What about you?” she asks.

You cock an eyebrow. “What?”

“You and Jungkook are planning to have any kids?”

The question makes your heart race. Years ago, you would have said no. Even last year, when you’d reconnected, you hadn’t been sure if kids were in your future. But the more time you spend with Jungkook, loving him, the more you realize that maybe it’s a future that would feel right for the both of you.

Because if there’s someone you would want to raise a kid with, it would have to be Jungkook.

“I’m not sure,” you truthfully reply. “Maybe one day?”

Jiho smiles, knowing what you mean. She’s been your closest friend all your life after all, and she already knows the ways of your brain. “You would be brilliant parents,” she tells you, her eyes shining with tears.

“I don’t know about that, but I would definitely do my best.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “The way you parent Lisa and Charles for me and Hobi sometimes tells me you’d be the best parents.”

“Stop,” you say, echoing her laugh as you shake your head. “We’ll see.”

“We sure will.”

After that, the conversation returns to a shared one around the table, one you gladly participate in. It’s not too long before you decide to hit the streets, heading to the club Somi chose for the evening. It’s one where you went twice with her before, though tonight you have access to the VIP section.

And so you drink and dance with your friends, careless, as if you’re back to your college days. As if none of you are adults with responsibilities, as if you can just live with no consequences. It feels liberating, yet you find yourself in a quiet corner in the early hours of the morning, seeking the man that you love.

[1:27 am] You: miss u

You’re not quite surprised when Jungkook replies almost right away.

[1:28 am] baby <3: miss u too [1:28 am] baby <3: how’s the party

You smile, heart warming up with your love for him.

[1:28 am] You: it’d be better with u here [1:29 am] baby <3: soon

And though it might just be a text sent in the early hours of the morning, you know that it’s a promise. A promise that you will soon be together again, never to be separated.

Saturday, July 7th

Jungkook looks out the window of the car, heartbeat racing like it’s seeking to win a Formula 1 Grand Prix. He doubts he’ll win - it rather feels like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest.

He doesn’t know why he’s so anxious. Hell, you’re already married, and he just can’t wait to see you again. Though it might be the fact that he’s been lying to everyone, and he hates lying.

He reckons Jimin is onto him. The moment they hugged for the first time, Jimin narrowed his gaze, tilting his head to the side as if to say ‘Something’s changed about you’. Jungkook wanted to admit everything, to reveal that you are already married, but he held on strong.

He’s excited to get to the reception hall and to say the truth. Mostly, he’s excited to have you close again, and he knows he’ll never be without you again. Especially considering how much of a mess he is after just a single day.

He’s yet to call you wife. He’s been trying to figure out a way to do it, something for just the two of you. Because it’s always been about the two of you anyway - ever since the very first day, ever since that dance under the night sky. Eight years ago to the day, Jungkook fell so deep in love, and every day he’s been falling more. And he knows he’ll keep on falling - it’s the most beautiful thing in life. His love for you, yes, but the act of it being shared by your pure heart.

You’ll have so much fun together.

Taehyung parks the car in the parking lot of the reception hall, shooting a look at Jungkook over his shoulder. Jungkook offers him a tight-lipped smile, and Taehyung nods once.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Definitely,” Jungkook says, smile softening.

Taehyung nods again, before turning back around to turn off the wipers and then the engine. The sound of the rain on the roof of the car is deafening, yet Jungkook thinks it’s a beautiful melody.

It allowed him to marry you yesterday after all.

Lance gets out of the car, carrying an umbrella around so that Jungkook won’t get wet. He wants to say it’s useless - you saw him already - but he refrains, instead thanking his friend as he gets out of the car, safe from the storm.

The car with Namjoon, Jin, Hobi, Yoongi and Mingyu arrives behind them, and they all quickly make their way inside, shaking off the water. The families are already here, and Jungkook watches as everyone mingles, bright smiles on their lips. Bridget and Heather come to see him, and he smiles widely as the couple stops in front of him.

“Excited?” Bridget asks.

His smile turns into a smirk. “More than ever. Especially for tonight.”

Heather rolls her eyes as Bridget wiggles her eyebrows, and then Jungkook’s father jogs to him, grabbing his arm.

“It’s time,” the older man says.

Jungkook feels a lump forming in his throat, as if it isn’t already done. As if you aren’t already united by the vows of marriage, until death does you apart. Yet, he still nods goodbye to his friends, and then follows his father to the little dais where the DJ will be playing later tonight.

People turn to look at him curiously, probably expecting him to go out of the room for the wedding processional. Instead, Jungkook grabs a mic, scraping his throat before bringing it closer to his mouth.

“Hey everyone,” he greets the crowd, and silence slowly falls on the room. “Thank you for coming today. It means a lot to me and Y/n, more than you can imagine.”

And then you walk out of the room where you were hiding with Jiho, Heather and Somi, and people gasp at the sight of you.

“The only thing is,” Jungkook continues, and he offers you his hand to hold. The moment your fingers touch he feels rejuvenated, like maybe he was just born this instant. And you look fabulous - did you get more beautiful in the day apart? “The only thing is,” Jungkook restarts. “We already got married.”

Wide gazes and shocked gasps now fill the room, and Jungkook hands you the mic, even as Jiho takes a step towards you, as if to stop you.

“We’d always dreamed to get married outside,” you say, and you motion to the rain splattering on the window panes. “Unfortunately, the weather was working against us. So we got married yesterday, with only our close family present.”

You meet Jungkook’s gaze, offering him a teary-eyed smile. He’s surprised to see the tears in your gaze, as if not expecting them, but they quickly make his gaze wet as well, and he chuckles softly, his heart feeling like he’s been embraced by all the love in the universe.

The world slows around you. Jungkook feels like he’s falling through the years, through the past, through every hurdle that stood in your path. All of them were worth it. So fucking worth it - he wouldn’t be standing next to you right now without them.

Your smile softens, if that is even possible. Eyes so full of love he thinks he’ll combust, like a firework exploding in colours and beauty. Because you’ve always brought out the best of him.

“So we did want to apologize to all of you who traveled all the way from the States,” you continue, and you look away from Jungkook.

He steps closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to press you against him. You easily melt in his touch, leaning your head on him.

“But we also wanted to thank you for coming, and we hope that tonight’s party is going to still be worth it.”

On that note, Jungkook gets the rings in his pocket, as you give the mic to a stunned Jiho. You face him again, and like yesterday, Jungkook gently puts your ring on your finger. It’s delicate, beautiful - everything that you are as well. His is simpler, yet still just as elegant, and its weight is a comfortable reminder of your love the second it’s on his finger.

Looking in your eyes, Jungkook wonders if he deserves your love. It’s a weird question to ask himself in the moment, and he knows he does. Or at least he’ll always work to make sure he deserves it, and he’ll offer you everything in his heart and soul. Because you’re the love of his life - he knew from the moment he met you.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Jungkook gently grabs your cheeks, the crowd slowly fading away. It’s like you’re alone in the universe, just you and him. In a world that is just yours - maybe that forgotten space where you’d first met. It’s a world of simple love, eternal. And in that world, Jungkook gently leans in, pressing his lips on yours, kissing you like he has all the time in the universe.

And he does. He does now.

Cheering brings him back to reality, and Jungkook pulls away, laughing along with you as you grab his hand, facing your friends and family. They are cheering and clapping, bright smiles welcoming you back to reality. You bow to them in tandem, and then Jungkook leads you down the dais so that you can receive the congratulations from everyone.

And though it might be a little exhausting, Jungkook knows that all of his burdens will now be shared with you. So with a heart lighter than the wind, Jungkook follows you around the room, and he follows you to your shared future.

*****

The reception has been fun. The food was perfect, the cake just as tasty, and to be surrounded with the people you love has been a dream. A beautiful dream - one you’ll forever spend with the love of your life.

Jungkook leads you to the dancefloor for the first dance. A dance for just the two of you, shared with your friends and family. The first of so many other dances, yet it’s hardly the first. You stop in front of him, and he puts one hand on your waist, the other gently closing around your fingers. You put your free hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly.

Before you even start dancing, Jungkook whispers, “Do you want to dance with me?” and your eyes fill with tears as a sob racks through you.

“Yes,” you whisper back. “Always.”

He smiles, a tear rolling on his cheek, and then the music starts. It’s a soft song, a gentle love song, by an artist you both came to love through the years. It’s one you’ve danced to a thousand times before, yet today it feels different. It feels like that July night eight years ago - the cataclysm of you and him, relived.

So you dance with him, eyes lost in the shine of his gaze, in the pure love it holds. You dance and dance, remembering the years. Remembering finding him again after his accident. Remembering the hate you’d arbored for him, that had always been love disguised. Remembering falling in love, yet pushing him away. Remembering Laura, and the day Jungkook had chosen you over her. Remembering Chicago, the dance crew, the parties you spent too busy getting lost in each other to partake in the reveling.

You remember everything - moving into your new apartment, him later moving in with you. Loving each other - the day Lisa was born, and Jungkook had held her with so many stars in his eyes you believed he’d turn into a galaxy. You remember the cottage, the camping trips, the long distance. The dreaded long distance - who would have thought it was leading you to this moment in time? You remember Harrison, remember falling back into Jungkook’s arms - the hotel balcony on Taehyung and Jo’s wedding. You remember everything, all at once - the day he proposed.

And the day he married you. The most important day of your life, forever.

As the dance slowly comes to an end, Jungkook kisses you again. Telling you that he, too, remembers everything. That it was all supposed to happen the way that it did, if only to lead you to the right place for you. On the other side of the world, together.

Always together.

After that first dance, everyone joins you on the dancefloor. Love in their hearts, your friends and family dance. Laughter and smiles and teary eyes reign on the world tonight, and you take it all in. Take all the love in, and redirect it to Jungkook.

So you kiss him, right there on the dance floor. You kiss him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. And he kisses you back, his arms snaking around your waist. You wonder if he can hear the wild beats of your heart - is his heart beating just as wildly?

You know it is. Because the love between you and him will forever be shared - it’s the kind people write poems about. And you feel like a poet tonight, like you’re experiencing the most beautiful moment of your life. Something you’ll always look back on with fondness and love and nostalgia.

When you’ll be old and grey and death will take you in its hold, you know today will be the movie in your mind, the moment you’ll relive before you go.

But for now, you need to experience it. To party with your friends, to enjoy this moment where you and Jungkook are celebrated. So you do. Even as Jiho scolds you for not telling her, even as your father makes a speech that ends up making everyone cry. You think you’re on top of a mountain, breathing in the fresh air, making you feel younger than you’ve ever been. New, untainted by the horrors of the world.

It’s just you and Jungkook tonight, and love. Love and love and love, as he leads you outside to get fresh air after the first hour of partying. If his leg is hurting him, he doesn’t let it show. Instead he leads you away from the light of the building, walking around the ponds left from the rain earlier.

It relented. It relented to let you see the moon and the stars, though clouds drift above, hiding most of the blanket of constellations that means so much to the two of you.

“How are you feeling?” Jungkook asks as he pulls your back flush to his chest, and you both tilt your heads back to look up to the night sky.

“Infinite,” you reply. “I feel like I love you even more than before.”

He kisses the top of your head. “So do I. Forever.”

“Forever,” you echo.

Because the end won’t ever come for you and him. Even in death, you know your soul will dance with his.

“Dance with me,” you tell him.

It’s a remix of your usual question, yet the answer doesn’t change. Jungkook turns you around, yet keeps you close to him, swaying you to the soft night breeze. He leans his forehead against yours, and you breathe in the same air as you dance gently, slowly.

“We’re married,” Jungkook murmurs.

“We are.”

“I love you so much,” he adds, his voice trembling with emotion.

Yours isn’t much better as you reply, “I love you so much too.”

*****

Jimin walks outside, needing fresh air. He stops in his tracks when he notices you and Jungkook, dancing the night away. He smiles - if only he’d be able to find love like that one day.

Though his heart aches, never fully healed from what happened with Scottie, Jimin is happy for the two of you. Happy that, through the hurdles, you and Jungkook made it.

You give him hope, more than he’d dare admit.

He looks at you for a few more seconds, before turning around to walk back inside. He startles at the sight of the pretty girl behind him, and he stops right before he was to run into her.

Somi. Right. The friend you told him about. And though Jimin is usually charming, flirty, all he can do when he looks down at the girl is shyly smile, cheeks burning.

“They’re adorable,” she says in Korean, looking behind him.

Jimin glances at you once more. “They really are. I can only hope to find love like that someday.”

He meets Somi’s gaze again, scolding himself for saying such a vulnerable thing to a stranger. Yet, her eyes twinkle with understanding, and she motions to the side.

“Do you want to walk with me?”

Jimin feels his throat go dry, yet he nods. “Sure.”

“It’s just…” she trails off. “I think we’re the only single people here,” she explains, as if she needed to.

Or as if he didn’t sound so sure.

“Even if we weren’t, I’d still walk with you,” Jimin says, voice low, finding some of his old charming self back.

It works. Damn it it works, and Somi takes it in stride, a gentle smile moving on her red-tinted lips. “Good. Because you’re the only one I’d want to walk with.”

He laughs, a clear laugh he hasn’t laughed in years. And then they walk with easy conversation, and Somi reveals more of her past. More of how she became friends with you, how she always wanted to meet everyone. To meet Jimin, she adds, a shy smile on her lips.

They walk to a small river, though the current is rushing from the rainstorm earlier. Yet the night takes the edge off the rush, making it seem like the most idyllic scene Jimin could have conjured up.

Or maybe that’s Somi and her soft smiles. Her big eyes shining brightly whenever she meets his gaze. He feels like he never truly breathed before this moment - like the night air is the most refreshing, rejuvenating.

It helps that the conversation is so easy. That Somi doesn’t know about Scottie, unlike the friend group. Unlike everyone, who’s always treated Jimin differently after the breakup. Somi doesn’t - she teases him, smiles with him, and when they walk back to the reception hall when Jimin notices her shivering, even though he’s given her his jacket, she dances with him.

Jimin feels new, raw. He laughs with her, smiles with her, and butterflies slowly come to life in his stomach. His heart feels warmer than it’s felt in years - Somi is healing him. Damn him, she’s healing him in ways he doesn’t comprehend, and he barely knows her yet.

But when the end of the night comes, and he presses a gentle kiss on her lips that she immediately reciprocates, Jimin knows he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to get to know her better.

So he lets Scottie go, and welcomes Somi in.

*****

“After you,” Jungkook says, opening the door of the hotel room you’ve rented for tonight.

Bam is being babysat with your father for the night, which you think is a relief. You’ll definitely be too busy to take care of a dog tonight.

You walk into the room, taking in the flower petals and the candles that were lit by the hotel staff before your return. The atmosphere is light, romantic - a dream come true after all the years of you and him. You spin on yourself, your wedding dress fluttering around you.

Jungkook has closed the door behind him, and he’s leaning against it, watching you twirl with a smile on his lips. When you stop to look at him, his smile slowly turns into a smirk, and he tilts his head to the side.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” he murmurs with a husky voice.

He slowly takes off his tie, and you patiently survey him, warmth spreading through you. Once the tie is off, Jungkook steps towards you, putting it around your neck.

He tugs on it, and you stumble forward in his embrace. He was ready to catch you - he crashes his mouth on yours, and you immediately kiss him back, fire blazing in your soul. Jungkook backs you towards the bed, sucking on your lower lip.

“Kook,” you breathe against his soft pink lips, and then he pushes you on the bed.

He towers over you, slowly shrugging off his blazer. He throws it towards the couch in one corner, and the flames of the candles flicker from the rush of air. Next is his dress shirt - he slowly unbuttons it, revealing more of his perfect, honey skin as he goes down.

You watch him, hungrily. Follow every movement of his fingers, imagining how they will soon feel on you. And when he’s done unbuttoning his shirt, you open it for him, caressing his abs with the tip of your fingers. Goosebumps trail in the wake of your fingers, and Jungkook sucks in a breath as you graze his scar.

The soft, flickering light of the candles lessen the harsh edges of the scar that disappears in his pants. You follow down the line until you reach the band of his pants, and then you lean forward to press a soft kiss on the spot.

“So beautiful,” you praise. “My husband.”

He grabs your face, forcing you to look up as he bends down to kiss you. It’s a gentle kiss, yet it quickly turns languid, his tongue pushing into your mouth. You meet it with your own, drinking him in, getting drunk on his taste. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks, lovingly, never-ending.

Because love will never end between you and him.

Your hands find his dainty waist, his skin warm against your palms. He shudders as you move up his flanks, and then you pull him down, moving back on the bed. Your lips never disconnect - like two adjacent puzzle pieces that have finally been joined. So Jungkook lies on top of you, the lapels of his dress shirt tickling your arms. You try to take it off him, but it’s unsuccessful. Until he kneels to help, and soon, your eyes fall to his perked brown nipples.

You pinch them playfully as Jungkook just watches you with his gaze full of swirling emotions, love on the surface of it all. You swim in his gaze, getting lost in him.

“I’m your husband,” he breathes.

You nod, eyes filling with unsuspected tears. “You are.”

“I’m so fucking lucky.”

And then he’s bending down again, stealing a searing kiss on your lips. You moan in his mouth, and he swallows it like he always does, with a grunt of his own. You run your hands on his back, up to his hair, and you tug at the soft strands on the back of his head.

He groans a little louder this time and then pulls away from the kiss. His gaze is dark, with desire and passion and love and everything that makes him the person that you want and will spend the rest of your life with.

“How do I get you out of this dress?” he asks as one of his hands runs up and down your arm.

You sigh. “I’m pretty sure I’d have to be standing.”

He pouts, yet he gets up, gently grabbing your small hands in his large ones so that he can help you up. Once you’re standing, he pecks your nose once, turning you around when he’s done. He brushes your hair over one shoulder before bending down to kiss the skin on the side of your neck.

“It’s a shame that I have to take it off,” he breathes right in your ear, and you shiver. “But I want to see all of you while I’m making you mine tonight.”

“I’m already yours,” you reply, breath hitching in your throat as he sucks on your skin.

“Oh, I know.” He kisses your neck again and then pulls away.

It takes him a few seconds to figure out how to get you out of your dress, but he soon finds the zipper. He slowly pulls it down, and you feel his gaze burning on every inch of skin revealed. When he’s done unzipping, Jungkook pushes the dress off down your arms, and it slowly falls to the floor, pooling around your ankles.

“You weren’t wearing any underwear?” Jungkook asks, sounding out of breath.

You step out of the dress, turning to look at him innocently. “I wasn’t. Should I have?”

You can tell it takes everything in him not to jump on you. Instead, he pulls you by his tie again - you forgot it was around your neck. When you step closer to him, he lets it go, and it falls between your breasts. You look down at yourself right as Jungkook pinches your nipples, and they perk under his fingers.

“So, so beautiful,” he praises again, and he bends down to suck on one of your nipples.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you let out a breathy sound as he cups your other breast, palming it softly. You lose your hands in his hair again, tugging gently to bring his mouth back to yours. You suck on his tongue the moment he pushes it in your mouth, and Jungkook grunts, especially as one of your hands falls in the space between you, palming his dick through his pants.

He’s already hard, sitting heavy in your hand, and you moan as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes out. “I’m so horny. I feel like I won’t last long.”

With a devilish smirk, you drop to your knees. “It’s okay,” you reassure him. “We can fuck all night long.”

You bite at his dick through the fabric, and he curses under his breath. Yet he doesn’t do anything, just watches you as you work on his belt. When it comes undone, you unbutton his pants, holding his half-lidded gaze.

“So you want me to come in your mouth first, mmh?” he asks. “You want to swallow every last drop?”

You unzip the pants, pushing it down his legs. “You’d like that?”

“Baby, I’d love it.”

You look down at his dick, straining against his boxers. You peck his length, before smiling up at him. “I love you.”

And then you push his boxers down as well, immediately taking the tip of his cock in your mouth.

“I love-” he moans, “you too.”

You suck on his tip before pulling away so that you can jerk him off. “So fuck my mouth, Kook. Come down my throat.”

His chest rapidly goes up and down from his quick breaths, and Jungkook nods. “Alright. Open up your throat for me, baby.”

You do, mouth falling open as you push your tongue out. You let go of his dick so that he can hold it instead, and he taps it twice on your tongue, a string of saliva connecting his slit to your mouth. It’s hot, sinful, yet all you focus on are his pretty eyes as they narrow, almost as if he’s in pain, or maybe angry. His brows are bunched together, and you know he’s about to ruin you.

You want him to ruin you. You want him to ruin you every single day of the rest of your life.

Getting tired of teasing, Jungkook pushes his dick in your mouth. You take him in, relaxing your throat as he pushes as far back as you can take him. You keep the gag reflex in, and Jungkook sighs as he slowly pulls out, pushing in once more just a second later. He lets go of his dick to hold your cheeks instead, thumbs swiping on your skin again.

“You tap my leg if it gets too much, yeah?” he asks.

You moan around him, offering him a thumbs-up. It makes him snort, and he pulls out of your mouth as you start laughing, too.

“I really fucking love you, wow,” he says. “The love of my life.”

You’d get sentimental if he didn’t push his dick in your mouth again. Instead, you moan softly, and Jungkook grunts in approval.

And then he unleashes himself. You hold on to his powerful thighs, appreciating the way his muscles shift under his skin, the way the jagged edges of his scar tickle your palm. Jungkook is a grunting and cursing mess over you, though praises of love for you are the most common. You moan for him, relaxing your throat, doing all you can to keep the gag reflex in. Jungkook wipes the tears that slip on your cheeks, always trusting you to stop him if it’s too much.

But it’s not too much. Ever. You want him to ruin you so bad you’ll never be able to say anything other than his name. And he seems like he wants it, too, as he keeps snapping his hips forward in quick, harsh thrusts. His dick is infinitely hard in your mouth, and you swallow around it, though it triggers your gag reflex.

Jungkook pulls out of your mouth, though he immediately starts jerking off. You recognize the signs that he’s about to come, and you quickly wrap your lips around his tip. He throws his head back, and his dick starts twitching, his warm cum spilling on your tongue.

The taste makes you go feral. Makes you take as much of him in as you can, and cum overflows on your chin. But you don’t care - you’re truly feral for him, forever.

Jungkook finishes unloading his load directly in your throat, and he’s shaking by the time you finally pull away, swallowing his cum. The heady taste and scent doesn’t make you gag, and you lick your lips clean as he looks down at you, chest flushed red.

“Fuck,” he curses, and then he chuckles, a smile growing on his lips. “I’m the luckiest guy alive.”

You laugh as you get up, wiping your chin. “And I’m the luckiest girl.”

“You sure are,” he says, eyes fondly looking down at you. They quickly darken again, and he motions to the bed. “Now let me return the favour to my beautiful love.”

You feel like rolling your eyes at his cheesiness, yet you only then realize that he hasn’t called you wife once. Somehow, it makes you anxious, yet you’re too drunk on the taste of him to be able to interpret anything. You only obey him, lying on your back. Jungkook kneels next to the bed, and he gently caresses your thighs before pulling you closer.

He bends down, breathing in the scent of you. “I think,” he starts, and then he pauses to push his tongue inside of you once. “We’ll fuck like animals tonight.”

“Plea-” you start, though the moment he sucks on your clit, it breaks into a moan. “Jungkook…”

He doesn’t reply. He immediately busies himself with lapping you up, with drinking you in. He moans against you, appreciatively, and you lose a hand in his hair again. He’s long dishevelled by now - there’s something terribly hot about it. Because this man is yours - your husband. From now until death does you apart.

He flicks your clit, and you moan out his name the instant he slides a finger inside of you. He curls it, searching for the sweetest spot inside of you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he starts rubbing on it.

“Kook,” you moan. “Fuck.”

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel,” he says, sitting back on his heels just long enough to push another finger inside of you. Scissor motions press against the tightening muscles of your pussy, and you rock your hips towards his face. He tuts. “A little impatient, are we?”

You groan in frustration as he blows on your clit, the sensitive organ flush with blood, hard, just waiting for the next swipe of his tongue so that you can explode. But Jungkook denies it - he kisses the inside of your thighs, tracing hickeys on your soft skin. Then he kisses your pelvis, ghosting on your clit. He licks your lips, red with your arousal. He teases and teases, and you whine.

“Please,” you beg, teary-eyed. “I’m so close.”

He gives in immediately. An expert motion on your clit sends you flying over the edge, and your thighs close around his face as you climax hard. Your voice breaks in a moan, and he just keeps on fingering you. You grind against his face, milking your orgasm from yourself, instinctively. He lets you do it, delighting in your taste, in your juice on his chin.

It takes you so long to come down from the high that you don’t realize he’s not fingering you anymore. That he moved - he disappeared from between your legs. Instead, Jungkook lies on the bed next to you, tracing circles around your navel.

You turn your head, looking at him through your blown-wide pupils. He’s fuzzy, beautiful.

And most of all, he’s your husband.

“Wow,” you let out, and you chuckle as he smiles devilishly.

“I know,” he replies. “You squirted at the same time.”

You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed, though you doubt there’s anything to be embarrassed about it. Instead, you only repeat, “Wow,” and he laughs with his bunny smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Your husband. This man is your husband now.

“I think you’re right,” you whisper, turning to face him.

He loses the smile, instead looking at you with an inquisitive look on his features, eyebrows raised in question. “About what?”

“We’re going to fuck like animals tonight.”

He bursts out laughing, high and clear, the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen in your life. You join him, and when the laughter subsides, and he rolls over you to kiss you again, you welcome him in, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him close. He’s over you, caging you, protecting you from the big bad world and from the months last year where you’d broken apart from each other.

You’ll never be separated again.

“We should take a shower,” Jungkook suggests as he pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours once more, just content with breathing shared air. “I won’t be quite ready to go again for a few minutes.”

You whine, playfully pinching his side, which earns you a shriek from him as he rolls away from you. “You’re boring, Jeon.”

He looks at you, wide smile a little frozen, and then he tears up again. “You haven’t called me that since the beginning,” he reminisces.

“The beginning?” you echo.

He nods. “You know how infuriating it was to see you again for the first time after the accident?”

The mention of his accident makes your eyes drift towards his scars. They’re beautiful on his honey skin, and you mindlessly reach between you to massage the one on his knee.

“You called me Jeon, and you were so pissed to see me,” he remembers, sighing in nostalgia. An emotion you know far too well and that you’re way too happy to dive in with him. “And when you were flirting with Jimin, I could feel my heart sink so deep.”

“Gosh, poor Jimin,” you let out.

Though you both saw him with Somi. You saw the exchanged kiss - the hesitancy, the surprise, and the bright eyes as they’d left separately, yet promised to reach out on the morrow. You’re happy for Jimin and Somi - they both deserve the whole wide world. And though it might be too early to tell, you still cheer for them.

If only because it might bring one of your dearest friends here, and God knows how much you love your friends.

“You think he and Somi will figure shit out?” Jungkook asks, propping his head on his hand.

He looks pretty like that, candlelight still casting a play of shadow and light on his features. Unable to resist, you reach between you, gently tracing the shape of his face.

“I think both of them deserve happiness,” you answer. “If they can find it in each other, I will be very happy for them.”

Jungkook’s face slowly breaks into the softest smile, and then he leans forward to peck your lips once more. “Though I love Jimin, let’s not dwell on this too long. I still want to fuck you stupid.”

You laugh as he playfully pinches your side before getting up. You look at him from where you’re still lying on the bed - his extended hand offers a promise of forever, and it’s a forever you now know to be your future, your truth.

You smile, wind catching in the sails of your heart, and you grab his hands to allow him to help you up. You use the momentum to press your lips on the pillowy softness of his swollen mouth, and Jungkook is quick to kiss you back, to offer you all of his love on a silver platter.

And he doesn’t stop there. Jungkook keeps on kissing you as he leads you to the bathroom. He turns the shower on, only breaking away long enough to adjust the water temperature. He keeps celebrating his love for you in the form of his mouth dancing with yours, and you let him guide you under the warm, soothing water of the shower.

You break away to breathe then, holding each other. Him, with his arms wrapped around your middle. You, leaning back on his chest as you gently trace idle figures on his forearms - love between you is as endless as the water cycle in the bathroom - fog condensing on the mirror, only to go back to its liquid form as it rolls down the glass before evaporating again.

You and Jeon Jungkook are never-ending.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathes when he pulls away to rest his cheek on the top of your head. He gently rocks you from side to side. “I’m so grateful to be married to you.”

“You’re my favourite husband,” you tease, but also test the waters, seeing if he’ll call you wife then.

He doesn’t. Instead, he replies, “I hope you don’t have too many husbands, that’d be upsetting.”

You turn in his arms, the water now spraying your back. “Just you, Kook. There’s always just been you.”

He caves in, brushing his mouth on yours again in the most intimate caress. “What would I do without you?”

You don’t know about him, but you’d wither. You’d wither and fade into darkness, or maybe you’d freeze like the first layer of the ground when the cold hits. You’d stop existing, you’d stop evolving, because he’s the theory of your evolution. He’s your character arc, the reason why you were put on this Earth years ago.

“I want all of you,” you breathe against his lips, and he deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You welcome it in, hands getting lost in his now wet hair. His own hands hold your hips firmly, pressing you on his slowly growing erection. Before it goes out of control, you pull away, grabbing a bar of soap to wash him.

He almost purrs under your hands as they trace every line and curve of him. Eyes shut, a small smile on his lips that turns into a pout whenever you let go of him. He’s incredibly adorable - the very reason why your heart skips beat nowadays.

Why your heart ever skipped beats to begin with.

“Let me wash you too,” he murmurs when you’re done, though you haven’t touched his dick yet.

It now stands proud and tall, pointing towards you, leaking precum as you rub the bar of soap in your hands to get some foam. He watches you as you put the soap down, and you wink up at him.

“I’m not done yet.”

This time he shudders when you grab the base of his dick, gently jerking him off once so that you can clean his shaft. You then move to his balls, and you massage them with the most gentle touch you can muster up, not wanting to trigger his arousal right now.

No, you just want him to enjoy the act of being thoroughly cleaned up, to be taken care of in every way he deserves.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, and you don’t resist when he pulls you in a kiss. When he switches place with you so that he can wash away the soap from his body, you watch the residue of foam going down the drain, awaiting your turn.

Jungkook’s large hands are infinitely soft, infinitely pure - like he’s never done anything wrong in his life. Looking up at those big doe eyes you love more than the universe itself, you know Jungkook has, in truth, never done any wrong. How could he when he’s the purest soul you’ve ever come across?

He hums as he cleans you, the song you danced to earlier. Your song, you reckon, and you join in, the lyrics floating in the air surrounding you. Though you’ve never been the singer that he is, Jungkook still cleans you, thoroughly, gently, and when he’s done he puts you under the cascade of water, and you let it wash the soap away.

“You’re a fucking angel,” Jungkook whispers, and your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. Not remembering when they closed, you let them adjust to the light, but Jungkook is quick to crash his mouth against yours, ravishing a soul-ending kiss on your lips.

When he turns you away from the water, your back to him as his own back is now showered with wet warmth, you immediately bend down. Your arousal hasn’t lessened since the actions that transpired in the bed, and Jungkook runs a finger through your folds once.

“You’re already so wet,” he praises. “My good fucking girl.”

“Like animals, right?”

He doesn’t offer a verbal answer - he answers in the physical, brushing his tip on your folds. It’s quite larger than the tip of his finger, and you shudder as your eyes shut as you brace your hands on the ceramic of the wall. The broad tip brushes past your lips before Jungkook pulls out, resting his dick between your ass cheeks.

“Like animals,” he agrees. “Like that first time I fucked you. In the living room of the cottage.” He pushes all the way in then, and you moan loudly, rocking forward. He grabs your hips, fingers digging in the supple flesh. “I wish someone would have found us there. Would have seen just how fucking hot you are when I’m fucking you.”

And then he’s pounding into you, so hard your cheek ends up pressed against the wall as you cry out your pleasure. Even through the haze that grows in your mind, you think about his leg - you know it doesn’t hurt like at the beginning, but whenever he fucks you like that, you’re afraid he’ll hurt himself.

But he doesn’t let you voice your concern. He’s quick to bend forward until he’s able to wrap your throat in your favourite necklace, tattooed fingers cutting the blood circulation to your brain until you grow so dizzy you struggle to stand.

He lets go of your neck then, but he’s still not done jackhammering his hips into yours. He’s a moaning and grunting mess, and the sinful melody of your name and the curses that tumble from his lips slowly guide you towards a new orgasm.

Slowly, yet when he pinches your nipple, hard enough to hurt, your climax hits at the speed of light, and your legs give out under you. You’re lucky he’s holding you up, though you shake through every powerful wave, his name the only thing you know.

You don’t think you need to know anything else anyway. There’s just him - there’s always just going to be him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses as your walls clench around his dick again and again, though the muscle grows weaker. When your orgasm leaves you empty and spent, Jungkook pulls you up so that he can wrap his arms around you again, and he litters soft kisses on the back of your shoulder and on your neck. “Let’s go back to the bed,” he whispers. “I’m not done with you at all.”

You whine as he pulls out of you, leaving you far too empty for your liking. He steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel that he holds open for you. You follow him out, and he wraps it around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he turns around to grab a towel for himself. You quickly dry yourself, and then Jungkook puts the towels on the hooks behind the door.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he offers you a lovesick smile.

“Of course,” he says.

He grabs your hand, pulling you back to the bedroom. The candles still flicker like dozens of little ghosts, and though you’ve disturbed some of the rose petals already, they still await you. Uncaring about them, Jungkook brings you back to the bed, and he helps you lay down before joining you, lying next to you. His hand rests flat on your stomach, and you share a timeless look of pure love and adoration.

An eternity with him… When did you get so lucky?

Jungkook must have seen the yearning in your gaze because he climbs back on top of you, his weight a comforting reminder of everything he is to you. Still hard, his dick lays on your pelvis, and you look down at yourselves long enough to watch him align himself with your entrance.

“Look at me,” he asks before he pushes in.

Like a moth to the flame, you’re unable to resist the dive in his eyes that follows. So you dive deep, one hand on his cheek and the other on his waist. And when he pushes all the way in, you whisper your love for him. He stills deep inside of you, and presses one kiss to the side of your face.

“You’re mine,” he breathes, voice heavy with emotion. “My wife.”

The words clang through you repeatedly. Like Echo is screaming them back to you, making sure they are carved into your bones and etched into your soul. You think they have been before, but hearing him say it makes it real, seals the deal until your souls truly unite to be just one. Until your love for him expands, growing bigger than the universe, encompassing everything that once was you and everything that will now be you, plural.

“My husband,” you whisper back.

“I love you.”

He slowly pulls out, and then he softly pushes back in as he rests his forehead against yours. There is so much love between you and him that you feel like you’re drowning in the bliss of him, like you’ll forever be changed by this moment in time.

In truth, you know he’s already forever changed you. And as he makes love to you slowly, languidly, sensually, kissing you long enough to remind you that you made it, that you fucking made it through all the hurdles, you know that you forever changed him, too.

And isn’t that beautiful? The power that one’s soul can have over another’s soul? The stars agree - they’ve always known about you and Jeon Jungkook. Happy, they shine in constellations for the two of you, slowly making place amongst their ranks. Because the astral bodies know one day they’ll welcome you in the night sky you love so deeply - two new stars, once stardust and now burning, for the eternity that is yours.

But first, you have a very long road ahead of you. And though life might take one of you before the other, your commitment to one another is endless - even if one of you shines up above before the other, you’ll always be with each other.

So when you’re finally spent after a night of love making, of promises and forevers whispered into one another’s ear, you listen to his heartbeat. You listen to it, your favourite melody, even before you knew its existence. It’s beautiful, simple - strong and steadfast. Mostly, it is yours.

Before you fall asleep, you offer him one last promise -

“I will always love you, Jeon Jungkook.”

☆☆☆☆☆

The End. I am crying rereading this, I can't believe I started this fic as a sequel to @daechwitatamic's What Was Hidden fic and now I'm 223.9k words later into a story that will forever hold a special place in my heart. What did you guys think of it? Was the end fitting for our favourite couple?

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

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With You Part 2

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Summary: Your fiancé Marc experiences his first hangover in 2 years. Can he face you in the light of day, and admit to you and Steven what he knows about another alter?

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader, though there is one optional fiancé(e) and muñeca(o). (Reader’s choice). No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/notables: Angst, comfort, hangover (ish), cursing, cuddles in bed, assumptions, longing, feeling inadequate, brief reference to past trauma, self-worth probs (I mean, it’s Marc). Let me know if I missed a warning. Banter? If mild sarcasm bothers anyone... Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Dividers by saradika

Steven fell asleep right away - for that, you were grateful. But sleep did not come easily for you. As Steven nestled into the crook of your neck, arm slung across your torso, you could only hope he would sleep off that three-quarters bottle of whiskey.

Pushing your fingers through his soft curls, you pressed your lips to his temple, waiting until his breathing slowed and steadied before confessing into the stillness of the night.

“Marc...I know you can’t hear me right now...” Your lip trembled as you pulled his body closer, gently twisting his soft strands around your fingers. “But we love you. We’re with you. Nothing will change that.”

You supposed it could be considered odd to be speaking to Marc even though it was Steven who fell asleep tangled up in you. And perhaps it was also presumptuous to speak on Steven’s behalf, to Marc. But you knew it was true.

The next morning, you woke up first, after a few, merciful hours of sleep. You hoped not to disturb the man beside you, carefully slipping away from his grasp. After a quick trip to the restroom to freshen up, you clambered to the kitchen, cursing yourself for not grabbing your fluffy slippers or a thick pair of Steven’s fuzzy socks. Your damn, drafty flat was going to give you all pneumonia, you were certain of it.

To that end, you started preparing both coffee and tea, unsure of which handsome man would be enduring a hangover this morning. For Steven, you oscillated between a red and a golden tea - hibiscus or chamomile. Marc may have been born and raised in Chicago, but Steven Grant did not mess around about tea.

Finally deciding on the hibiscus, you grabbed the air tight canister of tea leaves - there would be no dreadful teabags (as your darling Brit quoted Dame Julie Andrews) in your flat.

Hopefully Marc would drink the tea, but, just in case, you put on the very impressively American coffee maker before finding the bread for some toast.

After everything was hot and ready to go, you crept back into the bedroom, figuring it all might go cold before your sleepy headed fiancé roused. No matter. You just wanted to be prepared.

You didn’t have to wait long because someone stirred just as you pulled on the fluffiest pair of socks with little goldfish (a Hanukkah present to Steven last year) and threw Marc’s favorite tan hoodie over your white t-shirt. Your legs were still bare and you decided that at least your grumpy, hungover boys might have a silly sight to wake up to, if nothing else.

Easing down beside your love, you gently raked your hand through his bedhead, probably your favorite way to (innocently) touch them.

With a groan, your fiancé squinted, throwing a dramatic arm over his eyes, as if a thousand suns were burning them. (It was still dark in the bedroom).

“Oh, god,” Marc uttered, his arm flopping back on the mattress.

You adored Steven, but you were thrilled it was Marc. You needed to speak to him, or at least take care of him.

“Good morning,” you softly greeted, reaching to massage his temples before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Mm-mm, bad morning,” he groaned, rolling over and burying his face in your stomach. His hands somehow conveniently slid right inside his hoodie and underneath your t-shirt, which sent you toppling over, giggling elatedly.

Marc was a very pouty but adorable puppy sometimes. Grumpiness just worked on him. You liked to joke with him that he would make the cutest grumpy old grandpa someday. Thankfully, he was more interested in using your tummy as a pillow at the moment than the heaping shame and anguish from last night.

“Thirsty,” he murmured, nuzzling against you. Damn, it was too bad he didn’t feel good, because he was unintentionally turning you on.

“I got you, baby,” you whispered, prying yourself from his grasp to get his breakfast.

“No, don’t go,” he protested, locking his arms around you, his hot breath falling on the exposed skin of your abdomen, where your shirt had bunched up. “You’re m’pillow.” His words came out all muffled and so, so cute.

God, he was distracting. “Are you calling me fluffy?” You teased. “I was just going to get you some water. And maybe some aspirin?”

“Wanna sleep,” came his mumbled reply. “You left me.”

“To make you some coffee, you baby,” you playfully shot back, finally climbing out of his grasp.

A few minutes later, you returned with a tray filled with tea, coffee, toast, water and painkillers, only to find Marc planted face first in the pillows. How he managed to look so damn good after downing a bottle of whiskey and sleeping five hours, you would never know. As his muscular back expanded with a deep breath, you almost tossed the tray full of remedies to the side and climbed on top of him.

Later, maybe.

After a little coaxing, he finally sat up, taking the prepared tray onto his lap. Simply seeing what you’d done to ease his pain this morning reminded him of his shameful display last night. His eyes flickered over to yours, dropping down to the gesture of care and love.

“You...” He exhaled shakily, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

There was no need to argue over breakfast. You gently smiled in return, rubbing his forearm comfortingly. “I made you coffee, but...maybe you’ll try the tea? Steven says the antioxidants--”

“I was an asshole.” His jaw clenched, his gaze now fixed on your hand. The tenderness of your touch burned him with shame.

“You were?” your eyebrow shot up questioningly. “Hm...”

Marc was used to this from you. Just like you had taken a swig of his whiskey last night, your nonchalant reply should not have surprised him in the least.

You were a champion of the real. He had never met a soul like you, and that’s probably why he was insanely in love with you.

All that mattered to you was the reality of any given situation - what was right in front of you. You were so damn hard to fight with because ... well, you didn’t fight. And for someone as self-punishing as Marc, who spent his youth hearing what a miserable failure of a human being he was, it took him a long time to understand that your steady gentility and raw honesty were not dismissive of his trauma. No, you met it, and him, head on, accepting him and loving him exactly how he was.

You had never asked him to change, never expected him to be anyone other than exactly who he was. After years of self-sabotage, it was unimaginable to him to not have to live up to someone’s standard. He never had successfully lived up to anything, in his mind.

But you were different. The first time you “fought” had blown him away. He snapped at you, feeling inadequate over one thing or another and you simply said, “No.” He thought you were being dismissive of him, maybe even mocking him, but you were as earnest as ever, telling him, “You think that now. That’s okay. I simply disagree.” Then you kissed your thumb and pressed it to the grumpy crease between his downturned eyebrows. “I love you exactly how you are, Marc.”

It was the first time you’d said you loved him and he was just...speechless. You then kissed the corner of his mouth and carried on with the evening. That’s why it was so easy to tell you about Steven.

“I don’t remember you being an asshole,” you shrugged, bringing his mind back to the present. “But I do remember you being upset. And crying.” Scooting a little closer, you twisted the cap off the bottle of painkillers. “You wanna tell me about that?”

He watched your hands, pouring a couple pain pills into your palm, picking up the glass of cool water to make him an offering. His eyes met yours and he knew you were there to ease his pain in every possible way.

Still, it was so hard for him. And anything too hard typically led to disassociation.

To gain an extra moment, he took the medicine, gulping down the entire glass of water.

“Now, what sounds best?” You sweetly asked, nodding to the tray, your gentle smile completely melting him.

“I-I don’t think Steven and I are alone...in the body,” he gulped, his eyes wide and worried.

Sitting up straighter, you slowly nodded, reaching to take the tray from his lap and set it safely on the night table, giving him time to say more, if he would.

That’s all he said.

Shit, you suddenly worried you didn’t know how to ask questions without sounding offensive, despite the library’s worth of research you had done on DID. But you weren’t an investigative journalist, you were this man’s fiancé(e). So you would start with him.

“And that scares you, Marc? Upsets you?”

He glared at you. “Obviously.” Then shook his head. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You swallowed, trying to proceed carefully. It was so, so good that he was opening up to you. Instead of playing a guessing game, you decided to be your normal, candid self.

“Do you know who it is?”

He sort of did. Another man.

“Does he have a name?”

Lockley. He was pretty sure.

“Have I met him?”

His dark eyes locked onto yours. “I don’t know. Have you?”

Well that certainly explained one reason he was so terrified.

“No, I don’t think so. Does Steven know?”

Marc reluctantly confessed how hard he’d tried to hide it from Steven.

“I knew this was all too good to be true,” he brokenly whispered, eyes downcast once more. “You, me, Steven, free...happy.”

“We are those things,” you agreed, keeping him focused on the here, now - the real. “A change doesn’t mean we weren’t those things, all this time.”

“You don’t understand...” Marc rubbed his eyes in frustration (with himself) and tried to ignore his growing headache. Maybe he really should eat and drink something. He tried to tell you about Khonshu. He was going to tell you everything, and Steven too. But it was too much at once, so you found yourself with Steven once more.

Steven was very impressed with your choice of “hangover tea” and made sure the body got the nourishment, rest and shower it so needed. He missed his morning classes at uni, but did manage to make it to his shift at the university library, which ran from mid-afternoon to early evening.

Since Steven seemed to determined to not miss a shift over a hangover, you decided to go ahead and work your shift at the hospital, as planned. The two of you would meet back at your flat for some supper and then, hopefully at least one of you could get some more information out of Marc.

Things didn’t go as planned.

You returned home, assuming your fiancé would be there, just the same as the previous, fateful, sobriety-breaking night, but no one was home.

You looked around the flat, texted, called. Started dinner. Texted.

Took a shower, called. Called the university library - no Steven.

Shit.

Dinner was cold, you had texted the boys a novel, likely filled up their mailbox with voicemails. It was a desperate look - you were aware, but the worst thing you could imagine, aside from the actual worst thing that could happen to a person, was that maybe Marc was on a bender somewhere? It wasn’t exactly his drinking style, even back in the day, but...

Your feet were going to wear holes in the goldfish socks from all the pacing. It was past bedtime, midnight, 1am...should you call the police?

You were now truly, deep-in-your-bones terrified. In four years, neither Steven or Marc had ever just disappeared like this, not without telling you. Sometimes they could be a little radio silent when Khonshu was involved, but...

Maybe they weren’t them. Maybe it was the other. The new alter. Well, new to your boys anyway. You didn’t know anything about him, but one of the first things you wanted to know was - did he possess the ability to reply to a damn text message?

You got your answer twenty minutes later when you heard the slightest thump come from your bedroom. Hoping you had imagined the sound in your intense worry, you engaged in stupid-horror-movie-behavior and went to check out the sound, in the dark.

The moonlit profile of your fiancé sent a dozen feelings through your mind and heart at once, but as usual, you went with the borderline comical response first.

“Did you just come in through the window?”

Dark eyes snapped over to you as...Marc? pulled a flat cap off his head, loosening his curls. Tossing it to the side, he reached for the fingers of dark leather gloves, pulling them loose one at a time, but saying nothing.

You gulped. “Marc?”

Once the fingers of his glove were loosened, he discarded it and reached to work on the other hand, his body language holding none of Marc’s sorrowful tension, nor Steven’s anxious hunching. He moved with ease, dropping his second glove before pulling off his leather jacket. One you’d never seen, actually. You could tell that even in the dark.

Then he eased toward you confidently, like a panther, reaching to pull loose the tie around his neck. Okay, not Marc.

Once the dark tie was free of his neck, he toyed with it in his hands, wrapping it around one fist as his head cocked to the side.

You forgot to breathe for a second.

He finally let the thin fabric drift down to the floor and reached for the buttons of his white shirt.

Okay, enough. “You’re not Marc,” you uttered desperately, taking one step back. “Are you?”

He matched your step backward with a step forward. Then he shook his head once.

Oh. What had Marc said this morning? “L-Lockley? Is that right?”

He froze.

You decided, in that fleeting moment, to deal with the reality in front of you. You drew a steadying breath, releasing the fear and worry that had plagued you all night. Clearly, he was right in front of you, so he was at least safe. And despite the very distracting sort of striptease thing he just did, he admitted he was another.

So you weren’t going to be afraid anymore and give in to bullshit stereotypes.

You stepped forward. “Do you know who I am? I live here, with you.”

He nodded.

He was frustrating, this one. Sighing, you rubbed your tired eyes. “Have we met before, Lockley?”

The slightest smirk pulled up the corner of his mouth.

“Jake.”

He inched closer.

“But you can call me anything you want.”

Well, damn. Huffing out a laugh, you quickly regained your footing. “Smooth. Never heard that one before...Lockley.”

His smirk eased into the slightest smile, but his eyes remained dark, boring into yours before tracing down the shape of your body.

“I can see why they’re so taken with you, muñeca(o).”

You always knew the right thing to say with Marc and Steven like 100%, all the time, but damn if this window-crawling, stripteasing man with the velvety chocolate voice didn’t have you stumped.

Showing you a bit of pity, he extended his hand, offering a proper introduction. “Jake Lockley.”

But once you extended your own hand, he gently grasped your fingers, bending over slightly to lay a kiss to your knuckles.

“Pleasure,” you shot back, taking his hand and kissing it right back.

He chuckled lowly as you retreated.

“Listen, Jake,” you said his first name pointedly, “I’m glad you’re okay. I was really worried tonight. Do you happen to know where my fiancé’s phone is?”

Eyeing you carefully, he reached down to grab his leather jacket, producing Marc and Steven’s phone from the pocket. Handing it over as a peace offering, you sighed, a little relieved it wasn’t lost, only to realize it was powered off.

“Do you always turn off their phone?” You challenged, attempting to turn it on when you realized...

“It’s dead,” he explained, seeming the slightest bit unsure for the first time this evening. “I was going to...I thought you would be asleep.”

You frowned, confused.

“When I got back,” he clarified, his accent clearly American, although from a different region than Marc’s, it seemed. “I thought you would be asleep, like usual, and when you woke up, one of them would be with you.”

“Like usual?” You gasped. “You come in through the window while I’m asleep...like usual?”

Shit, it kind of sounded creepy said aloud like that. Jake knew meeting you would be a disaster. He really should have paid attention to whether you were really sleeping before he ninja’d his way inside.

“Look, cariño, don’t worry about it,” he deflected, returning to the task of unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ll be gone as soon as I fall asleep.”

“No,” you protested, moving close to him - as close as you dared. “No, I don’t want you to go. I just met you.”

His confident, dark gaze softened, and he almost dared to hope...

“Look,” you tried again, “I just want to know why we haven’t met before. And why Marc is so upset. And why is he drinking again--”

“Marc was drinking? Shit,” he uttered, pacing away from you. Jake had always successfully evaded his alters, and made a point to do so as he continued their life in the service of Khonshu.

He should have seen this coming. Most of the scum he took care of in the dark of night didn’t even make him break a sweat, with or without the healing armor of an ancient god. But as word of a powerful nighttime avenger spread in the underworld of London, threats arose equal to the threat Jake posed.

Just a few days ago, some asshole with powers of his own got the better of him, knocking him out cold. Jake had assumed that Khonshu had intervened but now he wondered...

If Marc woke up in the Moon Knight suit, he would absolutely freak the hell out. Which...now that he thought about it, he had no memory of getting home that night.

This was just perfect. Jake could live without Marc and Steven knowing about him. He’d lived that way all this time, but you were something else. He hadn’t wanted to meet you like this. He had screwed up, and now you were only worried about Marc. He was worried too, honestly.

Now you would never want to know him.

#with you fic #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #gn reader #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #oscar isaac fic #mcu #moon knight #marc spector x you #steven grant x you #jake lockley x you

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months

Text

Lavender - Ch. 13

Joel learns something big that changes everything. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-12, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Miscarriage (mentioned and referenced, not described); suicidal ideation. Some smut. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4.4K

A/N: GUYS THIS IS A HEAVY CHAPTER. Full explanation in the notes at the end of the chapter, with some spoilers. Scroll to the bottom and read that if you're worried about this chapter. It's not graphic but it's emotionally VERY heavy. Take care of yourselves and all the love in the world <3

Saturday, July 4, 2009 - 3 months later

“What’s Steve gonna do?” You asked, legs stretched out alongside the small table in the break room of the clinic.

“Hopefully act like an adult for a change,” Andrew smiled. “Get his own place. He’s gotta grow up sometime.”

“Aw, you’re going to be like empty nesters,” you teased. He laughed. “Moving in together… big step.”

“Right?” He shook his head. “Might as well call it marriage.” He turned his bottle of water in his fingers, watching the plastic fracture the light. “I’m not making a mistake, right?”

“You love her?” You asked.

“More than anything,” he said.

“Then no,” you smiled. “Not making a mistake. Jess is… she’s the best. Truly. You’re lucky she had a lapse in judgement that lasted long enough to start seeing you…”

He lightly kicked your leg and you laughed.

“I’m really glad you figured your shit out with her,” you looked at him and smiled as he nodded.

“You and me both.”

After meeting Jess at the speakeasy just after Joel and Tommy made it to the QZ, Andrew just… kept bumping into her. When he went to the warehouse to pick up supplies for the clinic? She was there. At the market? She was there. At the speakeasy? She was there. And he kept watching her, out of the corner of his eye, like he thought no one would notice. But you did.

“Are you going to actually talk to her again or are you going to just pine after her from afar because you’re hung up on her name?” You asked him eventually when she passed on the street and the two of you were walking to the clinic.

“I can pine all I want, thank you,” he huffed.

“I don’t think you want to just pine, bud,” you replied. He sighed.

“I just can’t…” he looked up at the sky for a moment. “How am I supposed to get through the day if I’m always reminded of her? I mean I know I only knew her for a week but fuck…”

“I don’t think time matters as much when you’re trying to survive,” you shrugged. “By the time we got to the QZ we’d known each other, what, three weeks?”

“Shit,” he sighed. “Yeah.”

“It’s just different,” you shrugged. “I was ready to claw someone’s eyes out for looking at you wrong.”

“I punched Elias for not letting me see you for five minutes,” he winced. You looked up at him, shocked. “Oh yeah, that was when you weren’t responding to anything. Forgot you didn’t know about that. He forgave me pretty quick.”

You shook your head.

“Point is,” you said. “A week is plenty when you’re relying on each other to stay alive. You protected her. You were there when… Anyway, it makes sense is what I’m saying. But that doesn’t mean it needs to hold up your whole life, you know?”

“So you think I should talk to her.”

“I think you need to get your head out of your ass or you’re going to watch her fall in love with someone else and be pissed at yourself about it and I’m going to be the one who has to deal with you.”

For a change, he took your advice.

Introducing you to Jess had been a process. Andrew had - apparently - talked about you. A lot. And she’d seen you with him around the QZ. He’d set up a night at the speakeasy, just the three of you. You got there early. Andrew came over and hugged you, whispering in your ear “I’m so fucking nervous.” You gave him a squeeze.

“Jess this is…” he held his hand out to you, frowning. Like he couldn’t think of how to qualify you.

“I’m the outbreak survival partner turned best friend,” you smiled, holding out your hand. “And you’re the girlfriend!”

“Hi,” she smiled, taking your hand and looking relieved.

You talked for a while, getting to know each other. She had been a junior in college when the outbreak hit, studying psychology. She worked doing psych evaluations for FEDRA now, but wanted to try to get some kind of mental health system set up in the QZ eventually. She was sweet, smart and obviously very into Andrew. When he left to go get drinks, she watched him go before turning to you.

“Oh my God,” she sighed and then laughed. “I’ve been panicking about meeting you, you’re very intimidating! He doesn’t really have any other family or people besides you and he talks about you all the time. I’ve been hoping you’ll at least tolerate me! I feel like I’m meeting the parents and the big sister and the best friend at the same time… I’m so glad you’re nice!”

“Oh hon,” you laughed and put an arm around her, giving her a squeeze. “I don’t think I’ve ever intimidated anyone so thank you for that! You’re lovely, I’m now going to require him to bring you around as much as you’ll stand us.”

“Then expect to see me an awful lot,” she smiled, looking back toward the bar. “I’m kind of crazy about the guy.”

It helped that she went by Jess. It helped more that she was able to exist as her own, separate person with no ties to Jessica the more you were around her. She even understood when you or Andrew needed the other when things got hard and no one else understood.

Moving in with her was the right choice.

“You and Joel any closer to…” he gestured vaguely, eyebrows raised.

“Let’s not talk about my slowly devolving love life,” you took a drink of water.

“I will kick his ass,” he said. “Just say the word.” You rolled your eyes. “Seriously though. What’s going on? I thought things were a little better after you actually told him what happened…”

“It was, for about five minutes,” you sighed. “He’s only slept over three nights in the last week…” You swallowed the knot in your throat. “It’s like he’s looking for an out. I keep trying to ask him if something is wrong or if I did something… It reminds me of the last time I visited him in Texas, before the outbreak. He broke up with me a few weeks later and, in hindsight, that whole trip felt like him saying goodbye.”

You sighed, finishing your bottle of water. Joel had slept over the night before and it was like his body was in your bed but the rest of him was gone.

He’d been lying flat on his back and you wrapped around him, stretching up and kissing his cheek. His arm never went around you to pull you closer like it usually did. You tried to press yourself against his side, tried to soak up as much of him as you could. When you kissed the side of his neck, he turned his head and lifted your chin, crashing his lips into yours. His kiss was harsh, consuming. He all but tore your tank top and cotton shorts off your body, leaving them in a heap on the floor.

His fingers dug into your flesh, into the spaces between your ribs, into the soft fullness of your breasts. You clumsily worked your hips against him as he ripped his own clothes off, too, before he pushed two fingers sharply into you, making you gasp.

“Always wet for me,” he said it harshly, almost judgmentally. You moaned, a knot in your stomach that didn’t usually exist when he touched you. “Always fuckin’ wanting it…”

“Joel,” you whimpered and he kissed you, his tongue shoving your mouth open as he pulled his fingers from you and pressed his hard length against you. He entered you with one firm stroke, forcing your walls apart, making you gasp against his mouth.

His hips snapped into yours, his cock slamming into you with each stroke. He bit your neck, took your wrists in his hand and held them down when you tried to run your fingers over his back. Your body kept trying to hold onto him, keep him close and he refused it. You came only seconds before he went slack on top of you, panting for breath.

He slid out of you and collapsed next to you in bed, not touching you. You just stared at the ceiling for a moment, feeling him leaking out of you, slipping away. He was gone when you woke up.

“He’s not the only man on earth, you know,” Andrew was watching you. You frowned a little but nodded. “Steve’s always had a bit of a crush on you…”

You snorted.

“Steve needed me to teach him how to boil pasta.”

“Yeah, he’s got mommy issues,” Andrew half smiled at you. “It explains everything.”

“Doctor?” Marta hung her torso into the break room, her black ponytail swinging over her shoulder. “We need you.”

“We’ll just have to fix my love life another day,” you drummed the tabletop for a second and gave Andrew a small smile before jogging over to Marta and following her to the exam rooms.

“What’s going on?” You asked, fidgeting with your stethoscope.

“Pregnant woman, thinks she’s about 10 weeks?” She passed you the chart. “Says she thinks something’s wrong but hasn’t given me many specifics. Wanted to just tell the doctor.”

You stopped at the exam room door.

“Thanks, Marta,” you gave her a tight smile. “I’ve got it from here.”

You knocked on the door once before stepping in.

“Hey Doc,” the woman smiled. You’d seen her a few times in the clinic through the years for the usual basic things. Coughs that wouldn’t leave, a broken finger, stitches once when she cut her hand as she fell at work. You glanced at the chart. Penelope. Penny. That’s what she’d told you last time.

“Hi Penny,” you smiled back, setting the chart down and going to the sink to wash your hands before putting on gloves. “What seems to be the issue?”

“I slipped at work,” she winced. “Yesterday afternoon…”

“They still letting you on ladders with your track record?” You teased, taking some notes on the chart. She laughed.

“Right?” She said. “You’d think they’d give me another job after a while… Anyway, something’s felt… wrong ever since. And this afternoon I used the bathroom and there was blood in my panties and…”

Your stomach turned and you fought to make sure it didn’t show.

“Let’s take a look.”

***

Joel showed up at the clinic at the same time as Andrew’s girlfriend. He fought the urge to groan. She was a sweet enough girl but he’d never really taken the same liking to her you had. She was young, naive, a little too content to hang on Andrew’s every word. But she was insightful enough to know that he wasn’t about to start a fan club for her, just giving him a tight smile as they both went into the waiting room.

It seemed quiet, at least. Something Joel was relieved for. He kept trying to get some distance from you and then something would pull him back in. You’d smile at him in just the right way, kiss his neck when your body was against him, have a bad day at the clinic and look so exhausted that all he wanted to do was wrap you up and hold you close. It was easier to keep his distance when you didn’t need him. He couldn’t resist you needing him.

“Hey guys,” Andrew sighed, coming out of the back. Jess’ face brightened into a real smile then, looking at her boyfriend like he hung the moon. She put her arms around his neck and he kissed her, long enough that Joel cleared his throat to remind them that he was there. Jess blushed and wrapped her arms around his waist. “It’s going to be a few minutes…” he lowered his voice. “She’s busy with a rough one.”

“Oh no,” Jess frowned. “What’s happening?”

“Miscarriage,” he sighed. “Which is hard on her for obvious reasons…”

Jess just nodded and pressed herself into his side but Joel just frowned.

“What’d you mean, obvious reasons.”

“Well, you know,” Andrew shrugged. “During the outbreak.”

Joel’s stomach dropped and, after a moment, Andrew’s eyes went wide.

“Oh shit,” he breathed. “She didn’t tell you, fuck, she said she’d told you everything, I thought she told you, I swear she said she told you…”

You came out of the back, looking sad for a moment but your face brightened when you saw Joel. You came up and stretched up to kiss his cheek.

“Just need a few more minutes,” you said. “Just waiting for Kristen so I can go over some overnight care instructions for a patient. Let me tell you, I really need that drink…”

“What the fuck is Andrew talking about?” Joel asked, looking down at you. You frowned.

“I’m so sorry,” Andrew whispered. “I thought you’d told him, you said you’d told him everything, I thought you’d told him….”

Your face fell, looking between Andrew and Joel.

Joel stormed outside. His head was spinning. Something Andrew had said the night that he got to the QZ came back to him, something he’d heard that he wasn’t meant to hear.

“So that’s the dad…”

He’d thought he was talking about Sarah. Who else could he have meant? It would have made sense, you explaining your connection through his daughter….

“Hey,” you were walking quickly, almost jogging, to catch up to him. He was panting for breath, the haze of twilight on the horizon. “Joel…”

“Were you pregnant?” He demanded, spinning to face you. You startled back from him, like he’d slapped you. You didn’t answer. “Were. You. Pregnant.”

You stared at his chest.

“Yes.”

He turned away from you for a moment, trying to get his composure before he turned back.

“It was mine?”

“Yes,” your voice was wet and thick.

“What happened.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before you answered.

“They were going to shoot Jessica,” you whispered. “I didn’t know it was transmitted through bites, they were just going to shoot her and I had to stop it and they hit me and… Joel, I’m sorry, I tried, I tried so hard…”

You’d been on your own, been with two teenagers you’d taken charge of and his child inside you and he’d been across the country from you, not able to protect you, only able to fail you, only able to fail you both…

“When did you know?”

You were quiet and he ground his teeth.

“When!”

“The first day of school,” you breathed, glancing up at his face for a second before looking straight ahead again.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

“You knew,” he said it through clenched teeth. You winced but stood your ground, your arms crossed over your stomach. “You knew for weeks. WEEKS. And you didn’t fuckin’ tell me?”

“I’m sorry,” your voice was shaky. “I didn’t know what I was going to do at first, I didn’t know if I was going to keep it and once I decided I wanted to keep it I didn’t know if I was ever going to tell you…”

“You were going to have my fuckin’ kid and you weren’t going to tell me!” He was screaming. You wanted to cower from him, he could tell. Your body shook with it. But you weren’t backing down.

“I decided to tell you the day before the outbreak,” your eyes met his then. “That’s why I texted you. I didn’t want to just tell you over the phone, that’s why I asked if you wanted to have coffee… I wanted to come up with a plan first to make sure you didn’t need to do anything you didn’t want to do, I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me and a baby you didn’t want and I…”

“You should have fucking TOLD ME!” He couldn’t look at you, putting his back to you. His stomach twisted, his chest tightened.

He was running through everything that happened the night of the outbreak. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it once it started. The phone call from Tommy, leaving Sarah alone at the house. Coming home and finding her at the mercy of the infected. Driving, running, holding her….

It all would have been different. If he’d known, if you’d just told him, it all would have been different.

“We’re done,” his voice cracked.

“What?” You sounded so small, so weak. It reminded him of the time you called him for help, when on a date with that handsy guy. You sounded scared. “Joel, please…”

“Do you understand what you did?” He rounded on you, towering over you. You flinched back, like you were afraid he was going to hit you. “None of it would have happened this way if you’d just fucking told me you were pregnant with my goddamn kid!”

“Joel…”

“She’d still be here!” He screamed it. You stepped back from him then, sobbing now.

“You can’t know…” you choked on it but he cut you off.

“Yes I can,” he said. He was seething. “If you’d just fuckin’ told me, we wouldn’t have BEEN there! We would have been in New York with you or you would have been in Austin with us and I wouldn’t have left her alone that night, you would have been with her and known what to fuckin’ do, she never…”

“You can’t…”

“She died that night!” He yelled, getting in your face. He’d never told you this. He’d never told anybody this. “Shot by some Army fuck and it never would have happened that way if you’d just told me you were pregnant with my fucking kid!”

He straightened, running his hands through his hair, desperate for something to hold onto. It was like losing her all over again, like there was a gaping hole in his chest, like someone had cracked open his ribs and started taking him apart. If you’d told him, Sarah would be alive. If you’d told him, he could have saved your child. If he’d just known, it would all be different. He wouldn’t have failed you. He wouldn’t have failed you.

You were just standing there, your face wet, arms tightly around yourself. You hadn’t even moved to wipe your tears away.

“Please,” it was barely audible.

“We’re done,” he said it again, his voice flat. “I wish I’d never fuckin’ met you. I never want to see you again. We’re done.”

He turned and left you there in the haze of the streetlights outside the clinic.

Joel wasn’t sure how long he walked. He wasn’t sure where he ended up. He didn’t fucking care. He almost hoped someone tried to talk to him. He wanted to hit something, he wanted something to hit him. He wanted to hurt, something on his body needed to hurt the same way his soul was hurting. It wasn’t right that the pain wasn’t spread out, that it wasn’t all through his body, too.

Tommy was out when he got home. For a moment, Joel’s eyes drifted to the floorboards where they’d stashed their weapons. He wouldn’t flinch this time. Your voice wouldn’t pull him back this time.

He went for the liquor instead. He drank until he passed out. He didn’t move for two days.

***

You couldn’t seem to stop crying. You stood there, watching where Joel had gone, like you were waiting for him to come back for you. He wasn’t going to come back for you.

“I wish I’d never fuckin’ met you.”

“Don’t let anyone take you from me.”

“I never want to see you again.”

You had a patient.

You forced yourself to turn and walk for the clinic. You hadn’t gone far, only about 50 yards, but it was apparently far enough that no one inside had heard the commotion outside. That was good, at least. Andrew noticed you first, his hands on your shoulders before you really realized he was even there.

“Hey,” he said, stopping you. His voice was gentle, so gentle compared to Joel’s. You kept your arms around your waist. “What happened? Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though you were still crying. “Is Kristen ready for care instructions? Have you seen her?”

“She’s still in back, what happened?” He asked. Your eyes were having a hard time focusing. His chest was just a gray blob in front of you. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you answered. “It’s fine. You guys should probably just head over to the speakeasy, I think I’m just going home…”

“What did he do to you?” His hands went from your shoulders to your face, tilting your head up so you were forced to look at him. You closed your eyes, unable to bear the idea of really looking at him.

“He left,” you said, voice cracking. “Said he never wants to see me again. I’m fine,” you said it quickly, before Andrew had a chance to argue. “It’s fine. I understand it, I deserve it, I’m fine, it’s fine, I just need to give Kristen the care instructions…”

Andrew pulled you against his chest, his lips finding your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry…”

“Not your fault,” you were getting his shirt wet with tears. “It’s OK…”

“Doctor?” Kristen called. “Everything OK?”

You pulled back from Andrew and sniffed, trying to compose yourself.

“Fine,” you said. “Just a long day. Let me go over this with you…”

You were numb as you went over protocols, noted medication and amounts, making sure to triple check everything because you didn’t really trust yourself but you didn’t have another doctor to hand Penny’s care off to.

Andrew and Jess were sitting in the waiting room when you finished. You frowned.

“I thought I said to go on ahead,” you said.

“We’re not just going to abandon you,” Andrew looked at you, incredulous.

“I just want to go home and be alone,” you looked between them. “Really. It’s fine.”

“Well then we’ll walk you home,” Jess said, chin jutting out defiantly, almost daring you to argue.

You let them. They walked you all the way to your door, but wouldn’t let Andrew stay.

“I’d feel a lot better if I just slept here,” he was frowning, his hands in his pockets.

“I just want to do this on my own,” you couldn’t look at him, staring over his shoulder instead.

“Are you sure you’re safe to be on your own?” Jess asked, her voice soft. You nodded, not looking at her.

“I just need to cry for a bit,” you said. “I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

Andrew ground his teeth for a moment before pulling you tightly against him.

“I love you,” he said. “Wouldn’t be here without you. Don’t go doing anything stupid.”

You hesitantly put your arms around him.

“Love you too.”

He and Jess left, Andrew giving you a lingering look as he closed and locked your door behind him. You looked around your apartment for a moment. One of Joel’s shirts was hanging on your closet door. The picture of you, him and Sarah was still on your nightstand. The book he’d been reading was on his side of the bed.

You left it there, going to the bathroom and running a bath in the tub that was a little too small for an adult to take a bath in but you didn’t care. You took off your clothes, folding them and putting them in a neat pile on the toilet seat, your body on autopilot.

He’d been right, of course. If Sarah had died that night, it would have been different had you told him. If you’d just opened your fucking mouth when you’d found out and told him instead of mulling it over and being too anxious…

You slipped into the water, body too numb to really notice the temperature of it. You stared into space for a while, just letting yourself cry until it seemed like there was nothing else left in you to cry out.

For a moment, you wondered what it would have been like if you’d just told him. It wasn’t the first time you’d imagined something like it. Pictured Sarah chasing a toddler around your grandmother’s back yard or holding a plump baby with a bucket hat on their tiny head as they kicked their little legs in the Millers’ pool. You’d pictured what your child would look like so many times. Boy or girl, they always had Joel’s hair and eyes. Sometimes they got your nose, sometimes his. They sometimes had the dimple he got on one cheek when he smiled.

It had always been a sad impossibility before. You could have done things differently that day, done what you could to change Jessica’s fate, made it so you never got hit but, after years of playing it over in your mind, you knew there wasn’t much you COULD have done differently. Your child was something that just wasn’t meant to be, something that got taken away before you had a chance to really love it and hold it close. Now, it was a choice you’d made. Another mistake born of a mistake.

You’d never really been meant to exist at all. Your parents never meant to have you, they’d left you with your grandmother who had stepped up out of obligation to her flighty daughter. You’d done nothing but fuck up everyone’s lives since day one.

“Don’t let anyone take you from me.”

“I wish I’d never fuckin’ met you.”

You slid below the water, lying flat on your back in the bottom of the tub. You held your breath. You opened your eyes, the stained ceiling rippling overhead. Your lungs burned. The ceiling blurred. Your hair swirled in the water around you. You didn’t move when your body forced you to inhale, sucking water into your lungs. But your body wouldn’t let you stay still, making you shoot up, coughing and choking, gasping like you had anything worth living for.

You cried again, staying in the tub until the water turned so cold that you could feel it. You went to bed alone, wishing the water had swallowed you.

A/N: Hi y'all. For folks who skipped to the end for a spoiler-y warning: FMC treats a patient who is having a miscarriage, Joel finds out about her miscarriage, freaks out that she never told him and leaves her.

I KNOW I'M SORRY I REALLY AM. Here's why it's working this way: 1) Joel after Sarah is largely defined by his inability to allow himself to love fully and honestly. Until he's forced to work through his shit, his trauma will not LET him love anyone. It's not safe. For him, loving someone will lead to his death. He can't do it yet. HE WILL EVENTUALLY. But he can't yet. Remember that the choices made by this Joel are literally life and death for him. After what happened with Sarah, he can't approach these choices any other way. 2) These characters are going to grow and develop along largely parallel paths for a bit and we're going to see them over the next few years where their paths cross until the day that Ellie shows up. Joel wouldn't be Joel if he was just happily with her for 15 years and she wouldn't be who I've been building her up to be if she was with the love of her life for 15 years. Their journeys are going to be separate for a bit but we're still going to see them together, I promise.

Thank you so much for reading and interacting and sticking with the story even though I throw SUPER SAD SHIT in all the time. I have a taglist now, so if you're interested in that, please let me know. I love you all like crazy!

Taglist: @paleidiot

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 2 years

Text

Never Quite Enough

Billy Russo x reader

Warnings: sadness, depression, betrayal, mentions of sex, paaaiiinnn

Summary: You find out that Billy made a bet.

A/N: read at your own risk. Happy ending not guaranteed. @idaofinfinity ❤

Title comes from one of my favourite songs, Redecorate by Twenty-one Pilots.

Also, I didn't re-read, so 🤞

If you could put a finger on where it all went wrong, you'd probably point at the Fourth of July brunch party.

It was when you decided that maybe you liked Billy a little more than normal. That maybe his swift kisses and the gentle trail of his fingers over your back made you feel like there was something on fire inside of you, alive, tingling... fluttering.

Your heart, learning how to beat for someone else, to sputter and kick all from the heat of his eyes and the upwards tilt of his mouth.

Only to be crushed a month later at the Fire Cheif's Charity Gala. It had been so unassuming too, you hadn't meant to eavesdrop, you just didn't realise how unnoticed you'd truly gone.

"At the end of the month, the price is doubled. Two hundred g's if he lasts that long."

You'd briefly wondered what you were hearing.

"No way Russo can last that long. I thought he'd be tapping out after the first month, but the man's stubborn when it comes to bets." Someone else says.

Billy? He'd made a bet?

"Surely she's not that bad, maybe just a little talkative?"

Everyone in the group laughs.

"Nuh uh, annoying. She's annoying and the longer he puts up with her, the more money he gets."

Billy? Your Billy?

You finally decide to make yourself known to the conversation.

"Is that true?" You say, finally moving around so that everyone can see you.

Their expressions of shock confirm everything you need to know.

"Is it?" You say, turning to the nearest man, Andrew, you think his name was.

He doesn't speak.

"You made a bet?" You pry, "To see how long Billy could stay with me? Because- because I'm annoying?"

No one answers but your heart is crumbling to pieces in your chest, grinding into sand when you hear someone behind you say your name.

Not just someone- him, holding two champagne flutes in his hands, after he'd kissed the top of your head a few minutes ago and said he'd be right back.

His expression is one of denial, a subtle shake of his head.

"Is that true? You bet on me?" You ask him, backing away as he takes a step closer. Your voice doesn't shake, but every memory of him in your head is slowly being tainted, shock, anger hurt- so much hurt- bleeding in.

A server passes a little too close behind you, and it brings you back into the moment, realising where you are, and who you're with, slowly beginning to understand that you were not among friends.

"Wow," Walter says with humour in his tone after you walk away, "I guess she can be shocked speechless."

You look down for a second, breathing out a sigh, before you turn and walk away from him.

Billy hisses through his teeth angrily.

"You're all fucking fired." He says, slamming down the glasses of champagne onto the nearest table, letting them splash around haphazardly, as he chases after you.

Truthfully, Billy had been enamoured with you from the first kiss.

The group sits in stunned silence for a long while after.

He hadn't known you for long enough before that first kiss, only a few babbling interactions that made him think you were a bit chatty, but he'd definitely exaggerated the first time he'd spoken about you to his friends.

It's how the bet had started.

"I bet you can't last a month with her." Andrew suggested.

Billy had groaned in displeasure.

Someone else had offered to double it if he could last two months.

Billy had smiled, shook hands, and told them he'd see them in two months, 200k richer.

It had never occurred to him at the time, that this was a terrible thing to do, that this could backfire in his face so badly.

You weren't trying to escape him, you were just, done. You'd collected your coat from the front, and you'd stepped out into the cold streets of New York to hail a cab, aware that he was chasing after you.

It was occurring to him now, as he chased after you, his heart being pushed into his throat, that he was a very bad person.

It had turned out, that the bad things people said about you, Billy had said about you too.

Why was that surprising? It shouldn't be. You were annoying, talkative, needy, not even that attractive-

He calls your name and your thoughts freeze.

You sigh.

"Look, it's okay," you start, desperate for him to leave you alone, "You don't have to- It's okay."

But it wasn't okay, you felt like you were about to burst. Going home like this was probably a bad idea.

"It wasn't like that." Billy says behind you, and you let out another long sigh, "I never wanted to hurt you, and... I wasn't going to break up with you after the two months because I really like being with you." He walks around till he's facing you, reaching for your hand, but you tug it away in the last second.

"Please." He murmurs, his voice cracking, "Give me a chance to explain. Please."

You looked into his eyes, and you realised that you couldn't feel a thing, your mind had numbed every emotion until there was an emptiness inside you.

Behind him, a cab comes to a stop.

"Why would I ever trust another word that leaves your mouth, Billy?" You spit at him, before moving around him and stepping into the cab.

Charming you had been easy. He was Billy Russo after all. You'd gotten a little too tipsy the first time you'd met, and though you insisted you were fine, Billy had still persisted in taking you home. You apologised the entire way, citing the rough work week as a catalyst for your alcoholism. He'd only reassured you, walking you to your door, one hand around your hip when you wobbled a bit too much for his liking.

You give the cab driver your address, not even bother to look back at your ex-boyfriend as you drive away.

He'd sneaked his number into your phone, with a firm command to let him know you were okay in the morning.

He hadn't gotten a text till early afternoon.

Hi Billy, Y/N here, I'm alright, didn't die.

Only a week later and you were sitting on his lap, kissing him in his car.

He couldn't resist smiling.

How could one person's mouth feel so good?

The first kiss between you, but you had his hair gripped in your hands, pressing your body against his so forcefully like you wanted to be one with him or something.

Giggling shyly after you pulled away, apologising for the enthusiasm, as if Billy hadn't decided that he was all in the moment you moaned hotly into his mouth.

It was easy to be around you. You never pushed him to share. Your talking could fill the space for both of you and he never felt pressured to respond.

The way you looked at him when he was inside you for the first time had taken his breath away. Your head on his shoulder as you sank down onto his cock. Your bare bodies on top of your sheets, his hands gripping the sides of your ass, daring you to leave him.

"Please." You'd whispered so meekly against his skin. Your eyes blissed and watery and filled with desperation. His heart had hammered, his cock got stiffer. He'd never seen a woman so pliant above him. He was usually attracted to fierce women, beautiful and deadly.

You were... soft... like gentle rain on a sunny day.

You melted into him the way cotton candy melts on the tongue, sweet, and Billy found himself desperate for more.

Getting to know you hadn't been as bad as everyone had claimed. You were just you, a little talkative, a little eccentric, you smiled when he spoke, and you grabbed his hand when something excited you or scared you and Billy was left to wonder which it was because your face would never give it away. You were jumpy too, loud sounds, or people getting too close.... it made him curious about your past.

But it had only been a month, and for all the things you said, you never spoke about that.

He was honestly just going to date you, pretend to be annoyed about it, win the bet, and then win the girl.

But as he watched you drive away, your hands covering your face, Billy realised that he should have come clean from the second he realised he had real feelings for you.

You wanted to waste away. To stop having to exist so that you wouldn't know what the pain of this felt like. Every interaction was now tainted. Tainted with the knowledge that you were annoying. No, even worse, you were so annoying you'd been made the punchline of a joke.

He didn't know what to do. He tried to call, but you didn't answer. He left voice messages, rambling and incoherent, the most he's probably ever spoken; but if he were you, he'd delete them without a second thought.

A joke you thought had been one of the happiest times of your life... but it had been used as fuel for someone's laughter.

You make it home, sighing. You lean against the door, sliding down, already too exhausted to do anything. The floor is cold, but you think it's probably what you deserve, lying on the floor at the front of your apartment.

Billy had been so welcoming, so friendly, he'd made you feel like your quirks were amazing. But you should have known.... you should have fucking known.

You were not amazing in any aspect.

Your phone won't stop ringing. It rings until it dies, you feel like doing the exact same.

You just wanted to waste away.

Instead you sit up. Your body on autopilot, you kick your shoes off and pull the tight fabric of your dress from your skin.

It's maybe two in the morning, you'd been lying on the floor for hours. You manage to be able to draw yourself a bath and you slip inside.

You wash it away, any trace of his touch from your skin, your hair, your mouth, you wash it away with a tired sigh.

You lay in bed next, and you can still smell him, but you don't have the energy to change the sheets.

You hear someone moving in the apartment upstairs, a few footsteps here and there. The tinkle of a cat's collar as it pads after its owner and you can still smell him like he's here with you and it reminds you that he never wanted to be here in the first place.

You can only get a few bites of food down each time before your stomach turns. Forcing yourself to eat more makes things worse. So you only take small bites, and when your stomach tells you to stop, you do.

You sleep on the couch instead.

You gather his things into a little box, put it at the door, you'll give it back to him when you can. You decide to take a week off from work, telling your boss that you caught a really aggressive flu and you're highly contagious.

The cat from the apartment above scratches at your window. You let him in so that he can wreak havoc, and also make you feel a little better. Should you adopt a cat? No. It didn't work into your plan of wasting away. You'd settle for- you check his collar- Butter for now.

In some ways, you think it might be true.

"What kind of name is Butter?" You ask the orange cat.

He meows in answer.

When there's a knocking at your door, you assume it's Butter's owner looking for the mischievous cat.

You should have checked first before you opened the door.

You don't say anything, but your semi- okay mood drops away.

He looks dishevelled, maybe a little, but you really don't care.

For someone as smart and successful as he is, he really sucks at getting the message.

"Please, please let me explain." He says at the door. His eyes are so dark, glittering like gems.

They're beautiful, but they're a lie.

"Sorry, Billy, you'll just have to settle for one month's winnings because I'm not interested in continuing to pretend."

"That's not-"

"Anyway," you reach for the little box you left at the door, extending it to him, "This is just some stuff of yours that I had. I'll see you at work, Mister Russo."

His voice cracks when he says your name. You pretend you don't hear it, closing the door in his face softly, pressing your forehead to the door.

"Please," he says to you through the door, "I'm sorry, I never meant for it to happen this way. I liked you. I really liked you."

You take a deep breath, mustering the strength to speak through the door.

"Go tell it to your therapist." Is all you say, before you turn and walk away.

#billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x reader #my writings #billy russo x female reader #the punisher

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imawkwardlysoc · 10 months

Text

the feels

Song- The Feels by Twice

Pairing- Ted Lasso x gn!reader

Warning(s)- None

Wordcount- 1,146

Summary- Ted has developed a love for K-pop and maybe the team's social media coordinator...

It’s notorious that Ted Lasso is a man of culture. From constant references from movies from the eighties to debating which Julie Andrews movie is the best. Hell, the man even referenced NSYNC’s hit song Bye Bye Bye to the team and even taught them the dance. Even though he’s a man of culture, there’s some things he doesn’t understand. Like TikTok for example and the trends it causes.

Y/N on the other hand, knows all of the trends. I mean they have to, they’re the social media coordinator for AFC Richmond. They have to be on all of the trends that are happening in the world. Running all of the social media accounts for the team, the TikTok account has been more successful when it comes to fan interaction. From the weekly q&as that the team members do to the dance trends that Y/N makes them do, it always went viral. The video will get over a million views with hundreds of thousands of likes and comments.

The Feels by TWICE blasted throughout their headphones as they danced to the music. They mouthed the words to the song as they tried to memorize the choreography so they could teach the team the dance. This was the plan for the next TikTok video.

“What are you doing?” Y/N let out a yelp as they saw Ted standing in their office.

“Learning the choreography for the next dance video,” Y/N blushed from embarrassment as they put their headphones away.

“Oh what’s the song? A little NSYNC? Backstreet Boys?” He questioned.

“No, k-pop,” they replied.

“K-pop,” the manager questioned.

“Yeah, k-pop,” Y/N nodded their heads. “Korean pop music basically.”

“Is it good?”

“Yeah, have a listen.”

Y/N gave Ted their headphones and Ted put them on. Y/N started to play the song and watched Ted’s reaction. A little giggle came out of Y/N’s mouth when they saw the little dances Ted was doing.

“It is a fun song.” Ted handed Y/N back their headphones.

“And the dance is fun.” Y/N put their headphones away. “Now, let's teach the boys this.”

Walking out of Y/N’s office, the two conversed with each other on how practice was and their weekends. There might’ve been some subtle flirting with each other as they walked the halls. Walking into the field, they saw Coach Beard and Roy standing in there while talking to each other.

“Hey fellas,” Ted greeted the two as they joined them.

“TikTok time?” Beard asked.

“Yep,” Ted and Y/N answered at the same time.

“Alright.” Beard nodded his head and he blew his whistle.

Ted called everyone over and told them what was going to happen. Ted soon gave Y/N the stage and they started to explain what the video was going to be. Some of the players were enjoying the idea while some others weren’t really vibing with it but they’re team players. After describing what the TikTok would be, the players made space while Y/N connected their phone to the speaker and started to teach them the dance without music first.

While Y/N were teaching them the dance, the coaches were enjoying what was happening. Especially Ted, he admired the enjoyment Y/N had on their faces. He also found it cute that when they laugh at the hiccups that would happen, their nose would scrunch up all cutely. Ever since Y/N was hired a few months ago, Ted still was finding the courage to ask them out despite the flirty banter.

“Alright,” Y/N clapped their hands together. “All of you are doing it alone without my help.”

Y/N joined the coaches and the song played throughout the speaker. The first try was kind of alright. I mean everyone got the steps down but they needed to be in sync with the beat. The second try everyone was in beat but Y/N had to slow down the song. Putting the song back to its regular tempo, the team got a hang of it. Doing a few more tries, Y/N set up the camera and started recording.

The coaches, mostly Roy, were trying not to laugh as they watched the team. Laughing from enjoyment just to clarify. Well, Roy was laughing at Jamie most of the time. Ted and Y/N were dancing along to the music a little but most were focused on the team.

“Alright, it is done!” Y/N announced after the last take.

The team cheered and Y/N thanked them before heading back to their office. Before leaving the pitch, Ted and Y/N shared a smile which everyone seemed to notice.

-------

With the sun setting, Y/N looked out of their window to see the pitch empty and looked back at their laptop screen. They already finished editing the video they recorded earlier and some other ones. They premade some Instagram posts to post later and double checked if they needed to do anything else. Seeing that they didn’t need to, they packed up their things before leaving their office.

Walking through the hallways, they said goodbye to Rebecca and Higgins before heading down to the locker room where the last of the team members were leaving. They said their goodbyes as they passed Y/N and Y/N entered the empty locker room to see Ted still there. Leaning against the doorway, Y/N chuckled at the sight of Ted with his headphones on and dancing to the music that’s blasting through his headphones. Y/N soon noticed the dance he was doing and let out a real laugh. Ted spun around and jumped at the sight of Y/N standing there.

“You’re a fan of k-pop now?” Y/N questioned.

“It’s pretty catchy,” Ted answered. “Especially the song that you showed me. I mean you have stolen my heart.”

“Really?” Y/N raised their eyebrow and walked up to Ted.

“Yeah,” Ted blushed. “I was wondering if you would want to go on?”

“On a date?” Y/N completed his thought.

“Yeah, do you wanna go on a date?” Ted asked.

“Sure,” Y/N smiled. “Just give me the time and place. Have a nice evening Ted.”

“Have a nice evening Y/N,” Ted replied back.

Giving Ted a kiss on the cheek, Y/N left the room and headed out of the building. Placing on their headphones, they played the most recent song they were listening to and it was The Feels. Y/N chuckled to themselves and started their trek back to their flat. Hearing the ding from their phone, Y/N looked down to see a message from Ted.

Teddy Lasso

Tomorrow 7 Pm

Dress up nice

With a smile forming on their face, they sent Ted a cheeky reply and continued their walk back home.

#ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis x reader #afc richmond

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 1 year

Text

One Special Night | Wanda Maximoff

Summary: A blizzard leaves you and a stranger stranded on Thanksgiving

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Language, angsty fluff? fluffy angst?, death

Word Count: 6.9K

Masterlist

A/N: This was requested by @joewatt111 on Wattpad. It’s based on the movie One Special Night starring Julie Andrews and James Garner (it’s one of my favorite Christmas movies!)

So sorry for the delay in getting requests out. I’ve been struggling through some writer’s block ever since I finished writing “Can’t Help Falling In Love.” But I’m working through it and I’m hoping to get caught up before the holidays.

Thanksgiving, 5:03 PM

“Any plans for Thanksgiving, Doc?”

“Oh you know, the usual,” you replied. “Get togethers with family you don’t really like, avoiding conversations that’ll spark arguments, and eating too many casseroles of who knows what.” You didn’t really like Thanksgiving. It held too many memories you’d rather forget: the years of being shuffled from house to house to spend time with your divorced parents, the subsequent arguments that you’d hear between your drunk father and sobbing mother as you buried your head under the covers in a feeble attempt to drown out the screams, endless holiday dinners ruined by shifts in the emergency room treating deep fryer burn victims, people slicing their hands while attempting to carve a turkey, and sprains, bumps, and bruises from people slipping on ice or grease, and, of course, the one Thanksgiving where your fiance dumped you before the heavy cream could even be whipped. Needless to say it wasn’t your favorite day of the year. So instead of subjecting yourself to the horrors of dinner conversation, you volunteered to work the holiday, collect the overtime, and treat yourself to your favorite Chinese takeout and watch whatever football game was on. Most people didn’t understand your disinterest in the holiday, so you fibbed and said you had plans. It’s not like anyone would figure it out anyways.

“But that’s the fun isn’t it? It only comes around once a year,” the tech posed.

You shook your head as you pulled on your coat. “Yeah, fun. There are lots of things you can classify as fun. I’m not sure this is one of them.” Slamming your locker shut, you grabbed your bag and headed for the door of the locker room.

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” the younger man responded. “But anyways, get home safe, Doc. The news was saying that we’re supposed to get one heluva of a storm today.”

“All the more reason to not go out,” you winked. You pushed the door open and trudged down the hall, backpack slung over one shoulder as you ambled down the corridor and towards the main entrance of the hospital.

“Dr. L/N?” you heard a voice call from behind you as you passed the emergency room’s front desk. You turned around to see who the voice belonged to and found Janelle, your intern, running towards you.

“Yeah?” you answered, cocking an eyebrow.

“You forgot to sign off on the papers for Mrs. Levin.” She handed you a clipboard with a pen clipped to it. You took it from her, scribbled on the appropriate line, and handed it back to her without much thought to what you were doing. “Thank you, doctor. And Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, same,” you responded. All you could think about after your ten hour shift was your steamed dumplings and lo mein, not some last-minute paperwork. But as you passed by the desk again something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right? What do you mean there’s no tow trucks available?” You saw a fiery redhead who was red in more than just her hair. She was leaning up against the front desk, yelling into her cellphone, a backpack sitting by her side. You watched as she rolled her eyes at whatever response she was receiving. “Well fine, I’ll just call a cab if you-what do you MEAN they aren’t running the cabs? How the hell am I supposed to get home?”

You eavesdropped on her conversation as you walked by, trying to make sure it wasn’t apparent that you were listening in.“Please, isn’t there something you can do? I’ve been at the hospital with my father all day and I need to get home.” You could hear the desperation in her voice as she pleaded with the voice on the other end. You felt bad for the stranger, but it wasn’t your responsibility to make sure she got home. You had no obligation whatsoever to be her taxi driver. But as you neared the door you felt a nagging in the pit of your stomach telling you to do something.

No, don’t get involved, you told yourself. You don’t want to do this. But you felt yourself turning around before you got to the front door, your legs carrying yourself over to the frustrated woman who had been placed on hold by the towing company.

“Excuse me,” you interrupted. She ignored you as she continued to tap her foot impatiently as she waited to be taken off hold. “Excuse me,” you tried again. Still nothing. She looked even more impatient as you attempted to interrupt her again. “Hey!” you yelled a tad more aggressively than you’d anticipated. She shot daggers through you as she glared into your soul.

“What?” she snapped, pulling the phone down to her chest.

“Do you want a ride?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you want a ride home? Look, the weather is shitty, it’ll be difficult trying to find a cab, and good luck trying to find an uber on Thanksgiving. I’ve got a truck with all wheel drive, I can get you back to wherever you need to be.” You had no idea why you were offering this complete stranger a ride back to wherever she came from. Maybe it was the spirit of the season warming your heart. “It’s okay, I’m a doctor here,” you added quickly, flashing your ID.

She looked at you with a combination of relief and apprehension. You were a complete stranger offering her a ride in the middle of a snowstorm out of the emergency room. “You’re offering me a ride?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Wow, okay then,” she said, hanging up her phone and grabbing her backpack. She followed you down the hallway. You could see the blizzard raging outside illuminated by the parking lot floodlights. It was going to be a challenge to drive in these conditions.

“It’s that one,” you said, pointing to the red truck parked down near the end of the lot. You zipped your coat up a little higher as you struggled across the uncleared sidewalk, grabbing your keys and unlocking the door so the two of you could hop right in.You pulled off your snow covered hat as soon as you sat in the driver’s seat after cleaning off the front of your car. The redhead was on her phone furiously texting someone. “Where do you live?” you asked.

“159 Collard Road,” she replied without looking up from her phone. You groaned to yourself; it was the completely opposite side of town, basically out in the sticks. It took you twenty minutes to drive out that way in good weather so you knew you were in for a long drive.

“Alright. Let me know when we’re getting close.” You started the car and looked over your shoulder as you carefully backed out of your spot. The radio kicked on, your favorite local Y/F/M station coming on as you turned left out of the parking lot.

“Y/F/M?” she scoffed, shooting you a look.“Is there a problem?” you asked. You should’ve left her at the hospital.“No, it’s your car, you control the radio.”“And what do you prefer?” You couldn’t hide the sarcasm oozing from your voice.

“Y/L/F/M.” You nodded, gripping onto the wheel tightly. There was no way in hell you were going to change the station for her, so you decided to turn it off. The two of you sat in silence as you continued to drive. The roads were absolutely awful. You were used to driving in nasty weather, but this was particularly bad. It was night, too, and you were having to drive without using your brights because of the reflection of the snow.

Halfway there, you thought to yourself. Just a little while longer and I can go back home. Why am I even doing this in the first pl-

Your internal musings were interrupted by a patch of black ice. The truck fishtailed into the oncoming lane as you pumped the brakes. Hard as you tried to correct the slippage, you ended up overcorrecting and swerving the other way right into a snowbank on the side of the road.

5:48 PM

“What the hell was that?” the redhead shouted. You threw the truck in reverse and tried to back out of the bank but it was no use: you were stuck.

“Black ice. We’re stuck. Damn it!” You slammed on the steering wheel, angry at yourself for getting distracted. It was not a good situation: you were stranded in a snowbank in the middle of nowhere on Thanksgiving night in a blizzard with a complete stranger who was getting angrier at you by the second.

“Great,” she sighed, pulling out her phone. “No service.” She slammed the phone on her bag, visibly frustrated at the situation as well.

You pulled out your phone, hoping you might be able to call your insurance company to come tow you out. Much to your dismay you didn’t have a signal. “Damnit,” you whispered.

“I literally just said there’s no service,” she huffed.

“Alright then, do you have a better idea? Because that’s all I’ve got.”

“I’m going to go look for help. There’s a gas station about two miles away from here.” She pushed the door open into the bank, the wind howling against the door as snow blew inside.

“Are you kidding? You’ll freeze to death out there. It’s pitch black, we are in the middle of nowhere, and you want to go outside?!” She must be crazy, that’s the only explanation you could think of.

“And what’s the alternative then, stay here all night?” she snapped back. “Yes! We stay here, run the heater periodically, and wait until either the snow stops or it’s daylight and then we should be able to either get out of here or get someone to come tow us out!” You were exasperated. Sure, spending all night cooped up in your truck with this crazy woman wasn’t the way you wanted to spend Thanksgiving, but it was better than becoming a human popsicle on this stretch of country backroad.

“Right, mmhmm, good idea there, doc. You stay here and do that, I’ll go and look for a way home.” She jumped down from the truck, sinking into the deep drift. You watched as she pulled one leg from the drift, trudging her way back to the road. You groaned, frustrated at the fact this woman was about to wander about in the middle of the night and that you were probably going to have to follow her against your better judgment.

“Hey wait! Wait a minute!” You unbuckled your seatbelt, sighing as you opened the door. Wind whipped against your face as snow fell through the air. It was an absolutely miserable night made worse by your miserable disposition. The stranger looked back at you. Her small figure looked even smaller as she hugged her coat against her chest. The snow was falling hard enough that it was difficult to make her out against her phone’s flashlight.

“Are you coming?” she shouted.“Only because I’m not going to let you wander around the woods in the middle of the night.” The wind was rushing against your ears, freezing your words as they left your mouth.

“I don’t need you to protect me if that’s what you’re thinking.” The look on her face, from what you could see, was one of disgust.

“Oh, I don’t care about protecting you. I’m only here to-” Before you could get your next thought out you found yourself flat on your face in the snow. The cold seeped through your clothes and chilled you to the bone. As you pushed yourself up and sputtered the powder out of your mouth, you heard a slight giggle coming from ahead of you. You looked up to see the redhead turning away from you. “Is there something you want to share with the rest of the class?” the sarcasm dripped from your mouth.

“Not at the moment, but I’ll let you know.” Her hidden glance revealed a smirk forming over her lips as she pressed on, not letting you see how amused she was by your current predicament.

Groaning, you attempted to jog through the knee deep drift to keep up with her. She had made her way over to the side of the road and was walking in what she hoped was the direction of the gas station. You fought the blizzard every step of the way, trudging through molasses as your eyes strained to follow the dim light. Your frustration built in your chest, causing one singular thought to race through your mind:

If we make it through this alive, I’m going to kill her.

6:11 PM

“Look, a mailbox!” The flashlight illuminated a snow-covered mailbox a few feet ahead of you.

“Let’s go ask for help.” The storm had intensified dramatically in the short time the two of you had been walking. The biting wind nipped at your red hands and ears. In that time you made a mental note to never leave home without a hat and gloves again. You scoured the area in front of you for a sign of a driveway, but any indication of one had been blocked by thigh-high drifts.

You watched the redhead struggle to carve a path through the snow only to befall the same fate you had earlier when you left your truck. As she face-planted into the mound in front of her, you let out a small chuckle. It was a sight to see: she flapped and struggled her way up like a goose in a most ungraceful fashion. A part of you thought you should make sure she was okay. “Are you okay?” you asked as you managed to push yourself over the drift.

“I’m perfectly capable, thank you.” She flipped her scarf around her neck as she pushed herself to her feet in the ankle deep snow that covered the long driveway. “I’m sure you are,” you mumbled under your breath. You followed her straight into the snow-covered woods, spotting what looked to be a small cabin nestled beneath a group of tall pine trees.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” she said.

“I’ll go take a look,” you shrugged as you eyed the enclosed porch.

“Wait!” You turned to see the woman clutching at her chest. “My necklace! I have to go back and find it!”

“You can come back after the spring thaw and look for it then. There’s no way you’ll find it now.” You couldn’t believe the ignorance of this woman…first getting out of your warm truck and now this. You turned back, reaching for the rickety screen door.

“It was a gift from my dad. I have to have it!” She walked like a goblin, crouching in an unflattering position as she combed the ground for a glimmer of the silver chain.

“Well I’m sure he can buy you another one. Come on, I’m going inside.”

She stood quickly, tilting her head as she stared at you angrily. “He’s dying,” she stated matter-of-factly. You fidgeted in place as she stared at you, eyes boring into your soul as she huffed by. Her frustration played out as she rattled the knob on the front door, slamming it down in dismay as it refused to open. “It’s locked.”

Your eyes wandered around the small room, scanning the dark corners for something to break you in. A pile of bricks caught your attention. You picked one up, feeling its cold weight in your hand as you turned toward the door. “Stand back,” you told her, pushing her back with your free arm.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. You’re going to-”

Crash! The window cracked as glass tinkled to the floor. You reached in, feeling your way down the door to unlock it and push it open. “After you,” you bowed mockingly, extending your hand. She rolled her eyes, pulling off her hat as she stepped inside the dark foyer.

You felt up the wall for a light switch, flicking it on but the room remained dark. “Power’s out. Storm must’ve knocked it out.” A sharp crack and a small flicker of light lit up the table in front of you. The stranger found a pair of candles on the sole kitchen table. Her face was illuminated by their dim glow as you watched her emerald eyes take in her new surroundings.

“There’s a fireplace right there. I think I saw a pile of logs outside the cabin. Why don’t you go get some and I’ll look for more candles?” She rubbed her hands together over the small flame.

You managed to find some snow covered cords stacked against the side of the cabin and subsequently slipped on the ice covering the gravel drive. Rubbing the bruise on your hip, you regathered the logs and cursed the woman inside as you stumbled through the door. You were hit with an immediate warmth upon entering, the smell of smoke and crackling of fire creating an indelible sense of home. The redhead was crouched by the fireplace, a metal poker in her hand. You cocked your head at her quizzically. “How’d you get that started?” Grinning smugly she reached to the side to reveal a cabinet loaded with logs. “A heads up would’ve been nice.”

“What, and deny you the chance to prove your manhood?”

“Touché,” you nodded as you set the wood down. As you removed your sopping outerwear, you took a moment to take in your new surroundings. The cabin was small, only one main room. On one side was a small kitchen complete with an oven, sink, and refrigerator. A round table sat in the middle of the room, a chair placed on opposite sides. There was a sofa directly in front of the fireplace. Two end tables sat on either side, and a coffee table sat directly in front. There were two doors on either side of the fireplace: one led to the bedroom and the other to the bathroom. A chill ran down your spine as you blew into your hands. “Alrighty then, how about I try to find something to eat? You should go see if they have any clothes for you to borrow, you’re absolutely soaked. Maybe jump in the shower, too”

“Right, a cold shower and a stranger’s clothes. That’s the way I want to spend my Thanksgiving,” she rolled her eyes at your remark.

“It’s gas, the water should be hot.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened at the revelation.

“Mmhmm,” you nodded. “And if we’re going to be sleeping together tonight, I should probably introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“Wanda,” she replied as she opened the bathroom door.

“Did you ever watch the movie Psycho?” you posed.

“Yeah. Why?”

“No reason,” you grinned. The door slammed shut.

7:20 PM

“Hi,” a quiet voice said. It was Wanda. She was wrapped in a fluffy red plaid housecoat, her damp hair hanging limply behind her. “What’d you find?”

“You’re in luck. They happened to have half a box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce in the cupboard.” You weren’t a cook by any stretch of the imagination, but pasta was manageable. “And there’s a bottle of wine on the table.”

“And you managed to set the table. I’m impressed,” she joked as she observed your feeble attempt at making the sparse setting look nice.

“I am a man of many talents.” You carried the pot over to your table, spooning some pasta onto both of your plates as Wanda sat down.

“Well, it is edible. Barely,” Wanda informed you as she took a bite. “Please tell me you have someone else who cooks for you because otherwise this is just sad.”

“I eat out a lot,” you laughed. “That’s the whole reason I became a doctor…it’s easier than trying to learn how to cook.”

“So you work in the emergency room then?” She took a sip of the red wine she had poured for the two of you. You nodded, your mouth full of the overcooked spaghetti.

“Yeah. It’s crazy, but you’re always on your toes. That’s why I like it. You’ll never have the same day twice. There’s always something new, you’re constantly calling on everything you learned in med school, and I like the adrenaline rush.” She looked at you curiously. You couldn’t tell what exactly she was thinking or what she wanted to say.

“I don’t ever want to spend time in an emergency room again. I don’t know how you can do it day after day.” Her voice softened as her head dropped down to stare at the pasta she spun on her fork.

“You were in there with your dad, right?”

She sniffled, rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her housecoat. “Yeah. He’s got cancer. Stage four. I’ve been taking care of him for the last few weeks. But today he had a stroke. So they admitted him and told me that he doesn’t have much time left. The doctor said she’d be surprised if he made it through tonight. So I was trying to get home to get him the picture of our family that sits by his bed, but my car wouldn’t start. I tried to get a tow truck but all of them were busy with the storm.”

You felt your heart sink. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do when he goes,” she sighed. “He’s all I have left. My mom died ten years ago and my brother was killed in a car accident last spring. I quit my job and gave up my apartment to move out here to take care of him. When he’s gone…” Her eyes filled with tears as she trailed off, staring across the room to the window on the other side. “Sorry, I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this.” She shook her head, immediately redirecting her attention to her dinner.

“No, it’s okay. It sucks, cancer sucks, and I’m sorry that this is what you’re dealing with right now. I see it every day and it doesn’t get easier, believe me.” Images of your worst trauma cases flashed through your mind. You physically recoiled at the gruesome scenes. “Look, I promise that once we get out of this mess I will get you back to that hospital as fast as I can so you can be with him, okay? And I’ll make sure to come up and check in on him, too.” You reached out to grab her hand. Her skin was soft and warm. You felt your heart skip a beat as you grasped it, which surprised you. A soft smile spread over her face as she felt your hand in hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

10:43 PM

“And that is check, I believe,” Wanda boasted as her rook took your knight.

“Again?! Are you kidding me? What the hell, Wanda?” You threw your hands in the air. This was the fourth game she was beating you at. You weren’t a chess champion by any means but Wanda was on a completely different level.

“It’s just check, Y/N. You can still win,” she giggled.

“Yeah, right. Why don’t I just hand the game to you now and we’ll call it a night?”

“Oh you’re no fun,” she pouted, putting away the pieces. After dinner, she had found the cabinet where the owners hid their collection of board games. The two of you had finally settled on chess. It was one of her favorite games. Her father had taught it to her and her brother, who you learned was named Pietro, when they were kids. She had played on the chess team in high school, which you thought made her a bigger nerd than you and your middle school quiz bowl team.

“I know, I’m a party pooper.” You stood up and yawned, stretching your stiff limbs. “I don’t know about you but I’m ready for bed. You go take the bedroom, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, I’ll take the couch, it’s okay.”

“Wanda, I’m a doctor. I’ve slept on countless gurneys and on-call beds before. I’m used to it. Take the bed.” She didn’t move, curling herself into a tighter ball where she sat instead.

“Fine. Give me a minute. I’m just resting my eyes,” she mumbled. She shut her eyes as she crossed her arms and snuggled into the back of the couch. You chuckled, pulling the blanket off your lap and placing it over her. As she drifted off to sleep her light snores echoed through the small room. You positioned yourself on the other side of the couch, watching as her breathing slowed and her face relaxed. Hopefully sleep would be kind to her, relieving her of the horrible reality she would face in the waking world.

Friday, 7:03 AM

You woke to the peculiar sensation of being squeezed. Looking down, you noticed that Wanda had made her way to your side of the couch and had wrapped her arms around your chest, resting her head in the crook of your shoulder. The sight startled you at first, but you quickly found it endearing. You were holding her with one arm wrapped around her. Your other hand was running your fingers through her soft red hair, teasing each strand as you traversed its length. Her eyes fluttered open at the tickling sensation, which quickly turned into a look of horror.

“Oh god I’m sorry.” She recoiled as soon as she released the compromising position she was in.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you reassured. The truth was you really hadn’t minded it. You liked the feeling of comfort her body provided as it wrapped around yours.

She sat back on her knees, looking out the window. “Looks like the storm stopped,” she noted as the sun streaked through the window.

“I’ll try calling a tow truck again, see if they can get us out of here.”

An hour later the two of you were in the cab of a tow truck headed back into town. You’d left a note and some money for the owners to explain why you broke into their apartment and ate their food. Once you got your truck back, you dropped Wanda off at the hospital before driving back to your apartment to grab a quick shower before heading back for your own shift. While holidays were normally busy in the ER, you were hoping that today might be relatively quiet. It wasn’t so much about not having to rush from bay to bay dealing with patients as much as it was being able to slip away to check on Wanda and her father. Your palms began to sweat as you gripped the steering wheel, pulse quickening at the thought of seeing Wanda later in the day. You shook your head to clear the images of the redhead from your mind. After all, you were only concerned about how her father was doing, right?

6:22 PM

You collapsed onto a gurney in the trauma bay, groaning as you rubbed your throbbing temples. All you wanted was a beer and the chance to rip your shoes off. You hadn’t stopped moving since you stepped foot in the hospital almost ten hours ago, even forgoing your lunch to help the ortho attending reset an elderly lady’s dislocated hip. It was also the first time all day you’d allowed your mind to wander back onto the woman who was in the forefront of your mind. Glancing at your phone, you panicked slightly as you jumped off the gurney and raced to the elevator. Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you pushed the down arrow. You bounced your knee up and down in the agonizing moments it took for the elevator to pull up to your floor. When the doors opened you rushed in and pressed the button for the ICU.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered, slamming the button as fast as you could. The doors didn’t close quick enough for your liking, and you spent the entire ride pacing around. You were on a tear down the hall as soon as the doors opened, vaguely remembering a conversation you and Wanda had earlier in the day about the room her father was in. You mumbled numbers to yourself as you jogged down the hall until you found the right one a few yards ahead of you. Slowing down to a walk, you tugged on the lapels of your white coat and attempted to smooth out your scrubs before you turned into the room.

It was empty.

Your heart sank as you realized what it meant: he was gone and Wanda was all alone. The cold emptiness of the room enveloped you, creeping into your very soul as an overwhelming sense of sorrow invaded your heart. You felt a lump in your throat as you thought of her alone, trying to pick up the pieces of her life. You threw your hands in your pocket, shuffling out of the room as you wondered how helpless she must feel. All you wanted to do was find her and hold her until she realized that you weren’t going to let her world end. But you had no idea where she even was. Besides, why would she want to see you at the worst moment of her life?

Sunday, 11:19 AM

Taking a bite out of your bagel, you thumbed through the pages of the local Sunday Times. You scoured the headlines for the one you were looking for: obituaries. It had already been two days since Wanda’s father had passed, more than enough time to write a simple summary of his life. More than once you’d wondered whether or not you should drive to her father’s house to check in on her, but your nerves got the better of you. As you sipped your coffee, your eyes settled on the word you’d been looking for: Wanda. You quickly skimmed the obit, looking for the information you wanted.

There will be no services as per the deceased’s wishes.

You sighed, throwing the paper down. The funeral would’ve been the perfect excuse for you to check in on her. Your stomach churned with feeling that you should’ve been there for her that day. You paced around the room furiously, mind racing a thousand miles a minute with different ideas, excuses to see her and make sure she was okay. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that the only real option you had was to go and see her.

2:49 PM

Carrying a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bag of Chinese takeout in the other, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other as you stood outside the front door. The way your stomach twisted up in knots surprised you. You could stay completely calm in the most stressful of work situations, but the thought of facing her again made you want to run away screaming. The deep breaths you took did little to quell the churning feeling growing inside you as you raised a shaky hand to knock on the frosted window.

The moments between you rapping on the door and Wanda answering felt like eternity. Time came to a screeching halt as your mind raced through different what if scenarios. The bag started to slip from your grasp as your palms moistened with anticipation. It was far too late to turn around by now.

The door opened slightly at first, a single eye peering out from the crack. You gave a halfhearted smile as you saw the outline of Wanda’s face in the dark room. Her eye widened as she realized it was you, opening the door fully as she stared at you in amazement.

“Y/N?” she asked incredulously. In a moment her world turned upside down again. A small part of her hoped that you would show up at the hospital before her father died and she was hurt when you hadn’t.

“Hey,” you said weakly. When she opened the door fully you saw how much of a mess she was. Her eyes were sunken and hollow, highlighted by deep bags. Her hair was falling out of a messy bun on top of her head. She wore pajama pants and an oversized hoodie, both of them wrinkled by hours spent curled on the couch. “I, umm…can I come in?” She nodded as she stepped back to give you space to come in.

Wanda shut the door behind you as you stepped in, slipping off your sneakers and placing them off to the side. The house was chaotic. Boxes and garbage bags were piled all around, the remnants of a life complete tossed carelessly inside. Unopened cards were scattered around the table between drying bouquets of flowers. Dirty pots and plates were stacked high in the sink while a half-empty pizza box sat on the counter.

“What are you doing here?” Her meek voice broke your train of thought. The redhead stood before you, looking like a shell of the woman she was three days ago.

“Well, for starters I brought Chinese food to make up for that pitiful Thanksgiving dinner I made the other night,” you stated while holding up the bag. “Orange chicken, steamed dumplings, and veggie fried rice.” Wanda stared at the bag. You couldn’t read the vacant expression on her face that made her very soul look hollow. “And I wanted to express my condolences about your father.”

A spark brightened her eyes as you handed her the flowers. She grabbed them from your outstretched hands, holding them tenderly and examining them carefully as if she’d never seen something so beautiful before. She inhaled deeply, basking in their sweet scent as she pulled them to her chest. “Thank you,” she murmured. She didn’t make eye contact with you as she spoke.

“Do you want to eat?” She nodded. “I’ll go grab some bowls.”

“No it’s okay. I’ve got it. Why don’t you go sit in the living room?”

You wandered your way through the darkened house, the living room illuminated by the glow of the TV. You cleared some papers from the couch, stacking them off on the coffee table as Wanda rejoined you with two bowls and two sodas. The two of you sat in silence as you watched her scoop some rice into her bowl with her chopsticks. Her eyes were glued to the television as you ate. You sensed she wanted to avoid conversation as the energy of the room shifted. She became cold and withdrawn, oblivious to the world outside of the flickering screen. But you didn’t want to interrupt her. If she wanted to drown her grief in old sitcom reruns then so be it.

You watched The Dick Van Dyke Show for a couple hours, her occasionally chuckles interrupting the program. As much as you wanted to talk you didn’t mind just existing in the same room as her. It was comfortable and familiar. But after five or so episodes, Wanda was the one to break the silence.

“I hoped you’d come up to see him before he died.”

You sat in stunned silence, unsure of how to respond to her confession. Friday night was still eating away at you, the fact you hadn’t been able to make it up to the ICU in time.

“I tried to. I saw patients for over ten hours straight that day and I didn’t have the chance to sneak away all day” It felt like a pathetic excuse, but it was the truth.

“I understand.” She turned her head away from you slightly. It did nothing to hide her sniffles as she started to cry again.

“But the first chance I had I ran up there as fast as I could. He was already gone by then.”

Wanda turned back to you, her face streaked with fresh tears. “I waited all day for you, you know? I kept hoping and praying that maybe, just maybe, you’d show up. It was stupid of me to think this random guy I just met would show up for my dying dad. Because you didn’t show up so now on top of being sad that my dad just died I’m upset that a complete stranger wasn’t there, too.” She wiped her face with her sleeve as she choked out her words through strangled sobs.

“Oh Wanda,” you sighed. “Come here.” You opened your arms and reached out for her. She crawled into your chest as you pulled her close, her chest heaving as she sobbed into your shirt. You wrapped your arms tightly around her. Her cries were muffled against your body. You traced your fingers up and down her back as you held her, rocking ever so slightly back and forth in an attempt to soothe her. All you wanted to do was take her pain away. It was odd how much you found yourself caring for this stranger. In that moment she was the most important thing in your life. That terrified you. “I’ve got you,” you soothed, drawing your hand up her back and pulling her head closer to her chest, as if your enveloping touch would heal her wounds.

“I miss him so much,” she gasped between sobs.

“I know.”

“They’re all gone. My entire family is gone and I don’t know what to do,” she sniffled. She was living her own worst nightmare, completely alone for the rest of her life. No parents to bring a boyfriend home to, no brother to help take care of aging parents, no core group to celebrate the small things with. She had friends, of course, but that didn’t erase the trauma of losing one’s entire family at such a young age.

You wracked your brain trying to find the right thing to say. Wanda was deep in the throes of grief and you wanted to help steady her. But what could you say? You’d never lost a parent before. “Wanda I- '' You swallowed the lump in your throat, leaning your head down to rest next to hers. The world stood still as your heart pounded in your ears. “You’re not alone,” you whispered in her ear.

She pulled away from you, her bloodshot eyes widening as she studied your face. They darted back and forth searching for anything that might reveal the hidden secret of your words.

“The truth is I don’t want to leave,” you sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about Friday and I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t there for you. I wanted to come see you sooner, but I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t want to see you?” She grabbed your face and pulled you in until your lips were millimeters apart.

“I don’t know. I guess I kept trying to tell myself that you didn’t want to see me so I could convince myself that I didn’t want to see you,” you admitted. It was hard to swallow your pride in front of her, but you couldn’t deny how she’d absolutely captivated you in the short time you’d known each other. “I’m sorry, Wanda. I should’ve been there sooner.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth did Wanda close the gap between the two of you. The tender brush of her lips against yours was absolute bliss. They were soft as you kissed her back, losing yourself in the remnants of her cherry chapstick. You felt your heart pounding as her hands started to tangle in your hair, causing you to smile against her lips. You felt her smile back when you hugged her closer to you.

She was the one to break away from the kiss first. You watched as her face lit up for the first time all day. All of her worries had seemingly melted away. “And here I was thinking that what happened between us was just one special night,” she smiled. It made your heart skip a beat.

“As much as I enjoyed it, Wanda, I could do without the whole getting stranded in a blizzard thing again,” you joked. Wanda giggled as she rubbed the back of your neck, her touch sending shivers up your spine.

“Why don’t you stay tonight so we can try again?” she teased.“Are you sure?” You brushed your thumb over her chin as you looked at her with concern.

“Please. Stay with me.”

You sighed as you looked into her eyes. They were pleading with you to stay. Your brain was telling you that staying might not be the best idea, but your heart wouldn’t let you leave. You had to stay with her: there was no other option. So you wrapped her close again, pulling her close enough that she could feel the way she made your heart pound against the confines of your chest. “Okay, I’ll stay,” you murmured against her head, giving her a quick peck as the two of you sat on the couch. “We’ll get you through this, I promise.”

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froggywritesstuff · 1 year

Text

character list

the title is self explanatory. this is a list of the characters i'll write for. it'll probably change over time, and if you see a character you'd like but don't see them on the list, just ask cause i might've forgotten about them

Hamilton

Eliza Schuyler

Angelica Schuyler

Peggy Schuyler

Maria Reynolds

Alexander Hamilton

John Laurens

Philip Hamilton

Lafayette

Hercules Mulligan

James Madison

Thomas Jefferson

Aaron Burr

Umbrella Academy

Viktor Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Allison Hargreeves

Luther Hargreeves

Five Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves (Umbrella or Sparrow)

Sloane Hargreeves

Jayme Hargreeves

Stranger Things

Will Byers (non female readers only)

Mike Wheeler

Lucas Sinclair

Dustin Henderson

Eleven Hopper

Max Mayfield

Robin Buckley (non male readers only)

Nancy Wheeler

Jonathan Byers

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

21 Chump Street

Justin Laboy

The Goldfinch

Boris Pavlikovsky

Theodore Decker

Marvel

Peter Parker (any actor)

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson

Makkari

Sersi

Sprite (platonic only)

Steven Grant

Marc Spector

Layla El-Faouly

America Chavez (non male readers only)

Kate Bishop

Yelena Belova (platonic only)

Shuri

Namor

Riri Williams

X-Men

Mystique

Kitty Pryde

Peter Maximoff

Rogue

In The Heights (movie version)

Usnavi de la Vega

Vanessa

Nina Rosario

Benny

Sonny de la Vega

Heathers

Veronica Sawyer

JD (Jason Dean)

Heather Chandler

Heather McNamara

Heather Duke

John Doe

Ride The Cyclone

Noel Gruber (male or nb readers only)

Ocean O'Connel Rosenburg

Mischa Bachinski

Constance Blackwood

Ricky Potts

Hatchetfieldverse

Paul

Emma

Ted

Bill

Alice

Ruth

Pete

Richie

Max

Grace

Black Friday

Lex Foster

Ethan Green

Hannah Foster (platonic only)

Heartstopper

Charlie Spring (non female readers only)

Nick Nelson

Tara Jones (non male readers only)

Darcy Olsson (non male readers readers only)

Elle Argent

Tao Xu (non male readers only(headcanoning him as bi or pan is disrespectful and transphobic))

Tori Spring

Imogen Heaney

Isaac Henderson (platonic only)

Do Revenge

Eleanor Levetan (non male readers only)

Drea Torres

Deadpool

Wade Wilson/Deadpool

Wednesday

Wednesday Addams

Enid Sinclair

Bianca Barclay

Xavier Thorpe

Ajax Petropolus

Eugene Otinger

(young) Morticia Addams

(young) Gomez Addams

Beetlejuice

Lydia Deetz

Tomorrow When The War Began

Ellie Linton

Lee Takkam

Fiona Maxwell

Homer Yannos

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse/Across the Spider-Verse

Miles Morales

Gwen Stacy

Pavitr Prabhakar

Hobie Brown

Margo Kess

Miles G Morales (earth 42)

Miguel O’Hara

Maze Runner

Thomas

Newt (non female readers only)

The Broken Hearts Gallery

Lucy Gulliver

Nadine (non male readers only)

Nick Danielson

Treasure Planet

Jim Hawkins

Enola Holmes

Lord Tewkesbury

Turning Red

Mei Mei

Miriam

Abby

Priya

Raising Dion

Nicole Warren

Tevin Wakefield

Dion Warren (platonic only)

Julie and the Phantoms

Julie Molina

Luke Patterson

Reggie Peters

Alex Mercer (non female readers only)

Flynn

Carrie

Abbott Elementary

Janine Teagues

Jacob Hill (non female readers only)

Gregory Eddie

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Jake Peralta

Amy Santiago

Rosa Diaz

Love Victor

Victor Salazar (non female readers only)

Benji (non female readers only)

Felix Weston

Pilar Salazar

Lake Meriwether

Lucy

Mia Brooks

Andrew

In Treatment

Eladio

Laila

Spree

Kurt Kunkle

Once Upon a Time

Emma Swan

Regina Mills

Killian Jones

Mary Margaret Blanchard

David Nolan

Henry Mills

Mulan (non male readers only)

Graham

Neal Cassidy

Peter Pan

Jefferson

Dash and Lily

Dash

Lily

Boomer

Juno

Juno MacGuff

Paulie Bleeker

Summer Days Summer Nights

Debbie Espinoza

Frankie Espinoza

Scream (1 through 6)

Sidney Prescott

Billy Loomis

Mickey Altieri

Roman Bridger

Jill Roberts

Charlie Walker

Sam Carpenter

Tara Carpenter

Amber Freeman

Chad Meeks-Martin

Mindy Meeks-Martin

Quinn Bailey

Venom

Eddie Brock

Honest Thief

Ramon Hall

Beth Hall

Wild Child

Poppy Moore

Kate

Drippy

Freddie Kingsley

Monsters and Men

Manny Ortega

Marisol Ortega

Ghostbusters: Afterlife

Trevor Spengler

Phoebe Spengler (platonic only)

Error 143

Micah Yujin

Community

Abed Nadir

Troy Barnes

Annie Edison

Jeff Winger

Britta Perry

The Obession

Logan

Delilah

The New Girl

Lia Setiawan

Stacey Hoffman

Mythic Quest

Poppy Li

Brad Bakshi

Adventure Time

Finn

Princess Bubblegum

Marceline

Marshall Lee

Prince Bubblegum

Flame Princess

School Spirits

Madison

Simon

Charley (non female readers only)

Wally

Rhonda

Dungeons and Dragons: Honour Among Thieves

Simon Aumar

Disventure Camp

Aiden (non fem readers only)

James (non fem readers only)

Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies

Jane Facciano

Olivia Valdovinos

Nancy Nakagawa

Cynthia Zdunowski

Richie Valdovinos

Ted Lasso

Roy Kent

Jamie Tartt

Keeley Jones

Sam Obisanya

Transformers: Rise of the Beasts

Noah Diaz

Elena Wallace

Mirage

Helluva Boss

Blitzø

Stolas (non female readers only)

Loona

Millie

Moxxie

Octavia

Verosika Mayday

Fizzarolli

Asmodeus

Hazbin Hotel

Charlie Morningstar

Vaggie (non male readers only)

Angel Dust (non female readers only)

Husk

Alastor (platonic only)

Vox

Lucifer

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (rise + mutant mayhem + tmnt 2007 + tmnt 2012)

Donnie

Mikey

Raph

Leo

April

The After Party

Yasper Lennov

Space Force

Tony Scarapiducci

Renfield

Teddy Lobo

Robert Montague Renfield

Undercovers

Bill Hoyt

Amazing Digital Circus

Jax

Parks and Recreation

Leslie Knope

Ben Wyatt

April Ludgate

Andy Dwyer

Jean-Ralphio Saperstein

Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja

Randy Cunningham (18+ people DNI unless requesting platonic stories)

The Earliest Show

Josh Bath

House of Lies

Clyde Oberholt

Mean Girls (movie + musical + movie musical)

Cady Heron

Regina George

Gretchen Wieners

Karen Smith/Shetty

Janis Ian/Sarkisian/Imi'ike (non male readers only)

Damian Hubbard (non female readers only)

Warm Bodies

Peep World

Nathan Meyerwitz

Your Boyfriend

Peter Dunbar

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sunnydaleherald · 6 days

Text

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, April 17

BUFFY: So, you've been seeing a guy, and you don't know what he looks like? Okay, this is a puzzle. No, wait, I'm good at these. Does it involve a midget and a block of ice?

~~BtVS 1x08 “I, Robot... You, Jane~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Disastrous Date (Buffy, Owen Thurman, Giles, PG) by badly_knitted

Numb (Buffy, PG-13) by veronyxk84

[Series: 11 drabbles added] Crossing Over - BtVS/Spuffy crossover drabbles (Ensemble, xovers w/ various shows, G) by julikobold

Love Language (Xander/Spike, not rated) by forsaken2003

Who the Hell is Lindsey McDonald? (Lindsey, Leverage xover, G) by nival_kenival

Spike x Female Reader Pt. 1 (not rated) by crowwritesaway

[French language] Des fleurs pour la St Valentin (Buffy/Spike, G) by MissKitty28

To the ghosts between us (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by will_

[Chaptered Fiction]

You’re my always, Chapter 4/4 (Willow/Tara, T) by ronanceisrxmance

Six Inches Between Us, Chapter 3/3 (Buffy/Giles, E) by AddieH

Staying Afloat, Chapter 21/? (Willow/Oz, T) by dwinchester

[Spanish language] Me haces tanto bien, Chapter 4/? (Buffy/Spike, M) by Nigthmareintheheaven

With Arms Wide Open, Chapter 31/? (Buffy/Giles, E) by jaybird023

[Ukrainian language] Forward to Time Past//Вперед у час минулий, Chapter 37/67 (Buffy/Spike, E) translation by Uraniya

Infinitely, Chapter 48/? (Willow/Tara, M) by Laragh

[French language] Recommencer, Chapter 7/? (Buffy/Faith, M) by FridayQueen

In the Dark of the Night, Chapter 8/? (Buffy/Spike, Jenny/Giles, M) by norik23

[French language] La fin des temps, Chapter 31 (Buffy/Spike, G) by MissKitty28

The Scoobies, Chapter 11 (Ensemble, T) by heckate

Faded Hope, Chapter 26 (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only) by bitchee

Blood and dust, Chapters 5-6 (Buffy/Spike, 18+) by Blackoberst

What the Drabble? Vol. 2, Chapter 13 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by VeroNyxK84

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: butterflies and sleepy vamps (Buffy/Spike, worksafe) by tubesock86

Artwork: Buffy back study (worksafe) by isevery0nehereverystoned

Artwork: Dusk (Buffy, tarot, worksafe) by isevery0nehereverystoned

Artwork: dead end (Lindsey McDonald, worksafe) by genericaces

[Reviews & Recaps]

PODCAST: HELLMOUTH HOMOS: Hush by Fear Queers

PODCAST: Bonus Episode 3! Season 3 Recap by Gym Was Cancelled

[Community Announcements]

Event: Pen & Paint 2024 by SADmins

[Fandom Discussions]

I understand the appeal of fics where Spike doesn’t get his soul back, but [...] by nicnacsnonsense

[anon ask] [Thoughts on the dynamic between Faith and Dawn] answered by explosionshark

I haven’t processed that [Cordelia's fate's] not a prank yet by littled0lls

Houses are NOT safe with [Buffy]! by aphony-cree

[Buffy] loves so deeply and irrationally and makes every love a part of her by crimeboys

[About Jesse's fate] by stardust-kiddo

[ask] [Some fix-it scenarios for BtVS] answered by fox-toothed

Andrew Wells’s monologue about Faith by coraniaid

BTVS opinion : 4x09 [Spike seeing Willow's pain] by nevereverthem

The Romani still hold onto their vengeance but not a transcript of the dang curse by thisisgoing2far

Faith's more of an Angel than a Spike by LightBlueSky55

“Hell-Bound” in Angel is such an underrated scary episode by Eagles56

Vampires and their mothers by failed_asian

Did they purposely write Buffy as being slightly less cool when Faith came along? by Tsole96

Oz & Early Faith by Neat-Biscotti-2962

Which half of BtVS do you love? by Kindofaddictedtotv

What do you think is the best three episode streak in the whole series aka your "holy trinity"? by incendio1897

Tell me why you love Buffy! What does the show bring to your life? by secyning

Faith and Wood? by Slayerette444

Which 1-2 episode character would you have liked to see join the scoobies? by dragonsrawesomesauce

Who do finance the watcher's council? by Imcyves

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

CONVENTION: David Boreanaz, Charisma Carpenter, and Julie Benz in Orlando, Sept. 2024 by Fanboy Expo Orlando

CONVENTION: James Marsters to Attend Ultracon of South Florida 20-22 Sept. 2024 by James Marsters News

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #ats #angel the series #fan art #fan fiction #meta

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heliads · 1 year

Note

Holy crap can I ask to see the list of all the requests you got?! It has to be a lot if you’re booked all the way to July

oh you already know! here goes:

4/25: so, before you go chapter two (the darkling x child of hecate!reader series)

4/27: harry hook x reader (based on 'the way i loved you'' by taylor swift, was literally giggling to myself over how fun this one's going to be)

4/29: so, before you go chapter three (the darkling x child of hecate!reader series)

5/1: thomas x reader (set in the safe haven, newt and teresa are alive, culmination of months of mutual pining)

5/3: so, before you go chapter four (the darkling x child of hecate!reader series)

5/5: luke patterson reader (reader is luke's english tutor)

5/7: so, before you go chapter five (the darkling x child of hecate!reader series)

5/9: charles leclerc x reader (reader is in charge of social media and charles flirts at all hours of the day)

5/11: so, before you go chapter six (the darkling x child of hecate!reader)

5/13: peeta mellark x reader (reader is a friend of katniss, takes place after round 1 of the games)

5/15: so, before you go chapter seven (the darkling x child of hecate!reader)

5/17: loki x reader (reader is an empath, loki is newly forced to join the avengers)

5/19: so, before you go chapter eight (the darkling x child of hecate!reader)

5/21: leonard 'bones' mccoy x reader (star trek x grishaverse au, the thoughts and ideas i have for this >>>>)

5/23: matthias helvar x reader (enemies to friends to lovers)

5/25: charles leclerc x reader (reader is head of pr for ferrari, when ferrari strategy does ferrari strategy she helps charles w the media)

5/27: andrew peter parker x reader (simple headcanons)

5/29: clove x reader (reader is clove's bff and helping her train for the games but gets scared the closer they get to the day of the reaping)

5/31: tom peter parker x reader (male reader is fighting in wakanda during infinity war, they're worried about each other through the blip)

6/1: billy rocks x reader (the magnificent seven but a grishaverse au, i am so so excited to write this, june cannot come quickly enough)

6/3: tewkesbury x reader (both of them are lovesick idiots)

6/5: han solo x reader (escapades w han + singing to get out of a crisis)

6/7: race x reader (reader is brooklyn's second in command)

6/9: peter pevensie x reader (reader is a knight with a gay crisis, i am shrieking, raven i love you for sending this in)

6/11: jack wilder x reader (reader is a paramedic and jack keeps mildly injuring himself so she can fix him up)

6/13: newt x reader (gally's trademarked beverage as a plot device)

6/15: peter pevensie x reader (headcanons for having to live in london after spending so long in narnia)

6/17: finch x reader (the newsies are hanging out, he has a crush)

6/19: daniel atlas x reader (reader volunteers to be a part of a trick, he gets shy)

6/21: newt x reader (tmr modern au, they sit next to each other in class)

6/23: race higgins x reader (race + reader are on a date but get jumped and they must recover emotionally from that)

6/25: kai parker x reader (kai redemption era)

6/27: lucy pevensie x reader (lucy has a girlfriend and gets up the courage to introduce them to the siblings, this is when they're all kings and queens)

6/29: zoya nazyalensky x reader (reader is zoya's #1 fan bc zoya saved them from attack one time, reader is hurt by somebody and zoya nearly becomes a supervillain bc of it)

7/1: andrew peter parker x reader (male reader is peter's best friend but when peter gets bitten by the spider, he stops hanging out with reader as much, angst ensues)

plus bonus non requests that i get to tack onto the end of my queue bc i am the author and i need to clear through some of my unwritten ideas:

7/3: eric coulter x reader (reader was from amity but now tattoos, idk commentary on art surviving in a place like dauntless you get my drift)

7/5: jesper fahey x reader (this quote specifically that has been in my inbox for months: but how long? how long until i blend into the background and i'm no longer unusual? what will you do when i'm no longer a bet that calls your interest or a gamble worth the odds?)

7/7: eowyn x reader (eowyn thinks she dislikes reader bc reader is a girl and can fight but eowyn can't, in reality that's not jealousy but a repressed crush on a girl, we've all had them before)

7/9: peter pan x reader (reader can visit neverland when she's dreaming, she goes there often enough that she wants to live there forever, she asks peter to take her but he hesitates, she decides to never dream of him again, eventually he shows up in person bc he misses her)

#not writing

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suck4angststory · 2 years

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Ambrosia (Series)

[Ambrosia means "immortality" in Greek; it is derived from the Greek word ambrotos ("immortal"), which combines the prefix a- (meaning "not") with mbrotos ("mortal").]

Pairing: Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw x Fem!Reader (Past), Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Author Note: This series is inspired by the movie 'The Age of Adaline'. If you want to be tagged, just let me know in the comment. English is not my first language.

Ambrosia Masterlist

One

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was born at 10.00 a.m on July 4th, 1914, at her house in Boston, Massachusetts. On January 15, 1935 (Y/N) sat on her porch reading a book. At that moment, Andrew Edgar Williams, her childhood friend has just gotten back from his deployment from the Navy walking in front of her house.

Andrew that saw (Y/N) reading a book with her leg tucked under the other stopped immediately at her fence. He took off his cap and called her.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)..?" He questioned.

(Y/N) that heard her name called raise her head from her book and saw a young man in her fence standing in Navy Uniform. She furrowed her eyebrows "Yes..?" she asked, bewildered with who was standing behind her fence. She rose to her feet and walked toward him but stopped a few feet away from behind her fence.

Andrew's smile grows bigger at her confirmation "I'm-I'm Andrew Williams. Noah Williams son, your next-door neighbour, remember?" He raises an eyebrow at her.

(Y/N) form a smile on her face, she definitely knows Andrew, her childhood friend, the last time she saw him was ten years ago when he moved away to live with his grandparents after her father died.

"You have grown up" Andrew smiled sheepishly, a blush crept on his cheek, and he tilted his head down to hide them.

"You expect me to stay as ten years old girl, Andrew?" She smirk, Andrew whipped his head and he become flustered. "No-no I mean, you are you are beautiful now, more beautiful than I imagine" his blushed cheeks are more prominent now, he then tilted his head down to hide his blushed cheeks. He clears his throat to ease some nerves.

(Y/N) smile and folded her arms on her chest. "Want to get some coffee and tell me about your day when you're away?" (Y/N) offered.

Andrew lifts his head to look at her and grins happily "Yeah, I love to". (Y/N) walked to her gate and open it from him. That day, they spent catching up some time when they drift away.

Three months later, Andrew proposed to (Y/N) and two weeks later they got married at the local cathedral. After three years of waiting, they were blessed with a daughter that they name Lorraine Joanne Williams. The couple is so happy about that.

On September 14, 1940, Andrew got called for deployment to Pearl Harbour in Oahu, Hawaii. Leaving his wife and two years old Lorraine.

"Be careful, okay" (Y/N) whisper to his ear. Andrew tightened his hug on his wife and caress her back. He kiss her forehead and muttered, "I love you".

Lorraine then walked to them and stopped beside (Y/N) leg. Andrew feels his daughter's presence pull away from (Y/N). He kneel in front of her, and the two years old Lorraine looked at her father, innocently.

"Papa have to go, so you two have to take care of each other, okay?" Andrew caresses his daughter's hair, Lorraine moves forward and threw her tiny arms on her father's neck. "I love you Papa" She muttered on his neck.

Andrew can't contain his tears again, he sniffed and kiss his daughter's hair. "I love you too darling". Andrew rose to his feet and kissed (Y/N) once again, "I'll miss you, my love". He muttered one last time before climbing to the truck that waiting for him outside their house.

On December 8th, 1941, (Y/N) pick up the morning newspaper in front of her house. Her mother live with her until her husband got back from deployment. The three years old Lorraine is sitting in her chair at the dinner table munching her food. (Y/N) walked to kiss Lorraine on her cheek which make her scrunch her nose. She stood a few feet away from her kitchen with a newspaper opened, she read the headline today.

"ATTACK ON THE PEARL HARBOUR BY THE IMPERIAL JAPANESE MILITARY"

"The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor from the air and all naval and military activities on the island of Oahu, a principal American base in the Hawaiian islands"

(Y/N) eyes go wide by this, she scanned the newspaper and read the victims' names of this attack, there, Andrew Edgar Williams's name was written as one of them. She then passed out after reading the name, Lorraine heard a loud thud and saw her mother fall to the floor, she then called her grandmother who was outside watering the plant.

****

When she woke up, her mother and three years old Lorraine is waiting for her with a worried look. She embraces them and cried on her mother's shoulder. She lost her husband, she become a widow now, and Lorraine lost her father.

Lorraine didn't understand what just happened and hug back her mother, and she remember what her father told her whenever she was sad.

"Mama, don't worry, you have me, you don't have to be sad" (Y/N) that heard this, begin to sob. Andrew always told her that whenever they'll go to sleep, whenever she was sad. And who's gonna tell her now?

***

After her husband's funeral, (Y/N) and Lorraine move out to live with her mother in San Diego. Five months later, (Y/N) drove to her mother's house after getting back from work. She's driving in the middle of the night on the empty road with trees surrounding them.

But something highly unusual occurred.

Snow fell on San Diego.

(Y/N) peaked out to look at the snow. The snow begins to pour heavily. Her vision from the road begins blurry with the snow and the dark of the road makes it worse. She didn't see there was a turning, her car crashed with the roadblock. Her body got tossed around in her car while rolling in the valley. Her car then crashed into the lake with her body inside of it.

Immersion in the frigid water caused (Y/N) body to go into an anoxic reflex, instantly stopping her breathing and slowing her heartbeat. Within 2 minutes, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) core temperature had dropped to 87 degrees, and her heart stopped beating. (Y/N) body slowly begins to sink into the lake with her car.

At 8.35 the bold of lightning struck the car. The car discharges half of billion volts of electricity and produces 60.000 amperes of current. It was threefold. First, the charge defibrillated (Y/N) (Y/L/N) heart. Second, she was jolted out of her anoxic state causing her to draw her first breath in 2 minutes.

(Y/N) slowly rise from the drowning and took her breathing. She climbed from her car and swim to the river bank. She lay on her back on the muddy ground and took a deep breath, she breathed heavily and try to catch her breath. She try to calm herself from her dead experience as cold snow fell into her body.

Third, based on Von Lehman's principle of electron compression in deoxyribonucleic acid. Which will be discovered in the year 2035 (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and will henceforth be immune to the ravages of time. She will never age another day.

As the years passed.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) credited her unchanging appearance to a combination of a healthy diet, exercise, heredity, and good luck.

San Diego, 1955

(Y/N) just got back from her brunch with Lorraine, they walked side by side with Lorraine looping her arm with her. When they arrived at the lobby, (Y/N) bumped into one of her childhood friends.

"(Y/N), is that you?" Her friend looked at her with incredulity. Her husband beside her turns to look at her too.

(Y/N) formed a smile "Margaret. How are you? it's been a long time". Margaret released her hand from her husband's arms and step to hug (Y/N), she hugged her back. Margaret then pull away and placed her arms in (Y/N) biceps. Margaret that was in her forty has wrinkles on her eyes and a few grey hairs prominent in her neatly styled hair. "Wow, you still so young. And is this Lorraine? Gosh, you've grown up" she then turn to Lorraine and placed her hand on Lorraine's biceps.

"That, I always told my mother, but she didn't believe me" she smile teasingly at (Y/N) who just chuckled. (Y/N) released herself from Margaret's grasp and looped her arm with Lorraine. Margaret still examined the two "You two looked like a sister" she chuckled nervously, and cannot believe her friend was still like in her twenties.

"That's very kind of you, but we really should leave" (Y/N) smiled politely, and turn around. She walked away from her with Lorraine in her arms.

"How is that possible, you still looked like twenty" Margaret still stood at her feet, stunned and in disbelief, her husband step up and placed his hand behind her back.

Lorraine turn her head "She just got back from Europe, to do some face thing and she doing a healthy lifestyle now" she told her. But (Y/N) tuck Lorraine's hand to tell her to stop. She shakes her head to her. "Okay darling, bye-bye Margaret. Great seeing you" she turned her head and bid goodbye to Margaret that still stunned on her feet.

***

Innsbruck, Richmond, Virginia. July 5th, 1960

The action was required later when living a quiet suburban existence, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was pulled over for a minor traffic infraction.

A police officer with his uniform walked toward (Y/N) driving side, he knock on her window and she lowered it. She smiled at the officer.

"Can I help you, Officer?" She asked politely, a bit confused when the police stopped her car. "Yes, it seems you infringe the stop sign. And I need to see your driver's license, Ma'am" (Y/N) open her purse and give him an old driver's license from the 1930s that is just a piece of paper."Here we go, officer"

The officer hesitate a bit but take the paper from her. He read the paper and furrowed his eyebrows. "(Y/N) (Y/L/N), born July 4th, 1914." He glanced at her " So, you're 45 years old now?"

"46 actually" she smiled correcting him. The officer let out a sigh and leaned slightly toward her. He place one hand on her car roof and held the paper between his fingers and pointed at her. "Ma'am, I'm gonna hold onto this. When you come by the station house to pick it up, please bring your birth certificate."

"Of course, officer, is tomorrow, alright?" She asked politely. The police officer just nodded and (Y/N) drive away from him.

Soon after, (Y/N) moved back to Boston and took a clerical job at the School of Medicine. There, she availed herself of every opportunity to research her condition.

She opened every medical book she found but never get any explanation she wanted to find. She stared at herself in the mirror to find any sign of her getting ageing but cannot find anything. Not even wrinkles or grey hair form in her appearance. She's almost fifty but she is still like 27 years old.

After a year of intense study, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was forced to confront the fact that there was absolutely no scientific explanation for her condition. She begins to accept the fact that she can't get older and leaves her life quietly in Boston.

***

When she walked home from her work, there were two men in trench coats following her with fedora hats after she got out of the building. When she hit the sidewalk, they begin to walk closely behind her. The street is empty this night, there's no sign of people walking around.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N), we're from Federal Bureau Investigation. We need to talk to you" One of them speaks while taking a drag of his cigarette.

When she heard this, she begins running, and they followed her running too, they began to chase her to the alley. She turn on the corner and hid in the tiny space that separated the two buildings. The place is enough to hide her, the dark of the night help to hide her body from the sight of eyes.

(Y/N) breathes heavily and trying to calm herself, she looked with wide eyes when she saw them arrive in front of her. She clutched her bag on her chest tightly.

"Shit! We lost her." One of them breathes heavily, he fixes his fedora hat.

"I think she's not far. She can't run that fast" the other suggest, they nodded to each other and begin running to find her through the alley. Soon after they leave, (Y/N) get out of her hiding and runs to the opposite direction from them straight to her house.

Inside her house, she packed her clothes and anything important in her suitcase, including her wedding pictures and her photos with Lorraine. She drives to Lorraine's house, where she lives with her husband now. She waits in her car, watching Lorraine cleaning her dinner table through her window shield.

***

Lorraine smiled when her husband kiss her cheek before he go to the kitchen to clean the dishes while she put some leftovers in the box. Through her window, she saw a car with her light pointed to her house, she recognise that car. Her smile that in her lips suddenly grow bigger, She stopped doing her task and run outside. She opens her mother's passenger side and climbs onto it. Her smile was flattered when she saw her mother's cheeks is tainted with tears.

***

(Y/N) explained everything about what happened to her and her decision to move away. Lorraine broke into tears hearing this, her mother never leave her side until now, despite her being married, she always visit her mother every week, but now she can't visit her again.

"Mama.. why you can just stay.." she sobbed, (Y/N) bringing Lorraine to her embrace.

"I'm sorry darling, but it has to be this way" she brushes her hair and Lorraine cries in her mother's embrace. (Y/N) doing this to ensure the freedom and safety of herself and her daughter, She vowed to keep moving, changing her name, residence, and appearance every decade, and never to speak of word or her fate to another living soul. In seven weeks, When Martha Blair disappears forever, and Hannah Parker takes up residence in a remote farmhouse in Greenfield, Ohio. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), besides one moment of weakness will have kept her vow for the past 60 years.

***

SAN DIEGO, 2019

(Y/N) open her apartment door, before she can close the door properly, she got surprised by someone throwing herself at her. She leaned back slightly for the impact.

She let out a laugh when she know who hug her. "Natasha, what are you doing here, darling" she caresses Natasha back.

"I miss you, Nana, you're not visiting us again since last year" she pouted on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, darling, I do visit you though, but Noah said you have a special mission on Top Gun" Natasha lift her head from (Y/N) shoulder to kiss her cheek. Natasha then walked to her kitchen.

"So what are you doing here?" (Y/N) open her shoe and placed it on a rack. She then shrugged off her coat and hung it behind the door. She walked to her kitchen where Natasha already sat in the pantry waiting for her.

"Just want to visit you while I'm in town. And I miss your carbonara" Natasha wiggles her eyebrows at (Y/N) that washing her hand in the sink. She smiles and shakes her head. She then begins to take out the ingredients from the fridge to make Carbonara. She filled the pot with water and place it on top of the stove. She turns the stove on and prepares another ingredient.

When she chopped some Pancetta, she turn to Natasha that messing around with the cutlery in the pantry. She placed one hand on her hips "Wait, how do you open this door? I don't remember giving the key to Noah?" She cock her eyebrows to her. Natasha looked at her with wide eyes and grinned innocently. "I used bobby pint as you taught me"

(Y/N) let out a sigh "I teach that to you so you can use it in emergency situations. Not breaking into my apartment"

"This is an emergency situation. My stomach growls for one hour now. See, you heard that" She exclaimed and pointed to her growling stomach. (Y/N) shake her head and place the pan on the stove, after the pan was hot she placed the Pancetta on top of it. When she grates the cheese she can know Natasha wants to tell her something, she finished grating the cheese and asks her. "Another thing you want to say to me?" She cracked the eggs and separated the yolk into another bowl. She took the spaghetti from the shelf and place it in the boiling water.

"Yes actually, I want you to come with me, to this Military Party" She trailed off. (Y/N) let out a sigh and mix the eggs, black pepper and cheese with the whisk.

"C'mon, Nana, dad said you never go out to party like this since the 80s. That's older than me. Besides, you will move out soon after right? I saw your new identity and your new address at the entry table." Natasha remarked. (Y/N) didn't answer it, the sound of boiling water filled the silence in them. Natasha let out a sigh and continue messing with the cutlery, she propped her head with her hand and rest her elbow on the table.

(Y/N) placed the pasta in front of Natasha after it was ready. She then walked out to the living room to find her white ragdoll cat, she sit down on the couch and called her. "Snowy came here." The white cat let out a miaow and climb on her lap. "Have you fed Snowy yet?" She caress Snowy back and looked at Natasha that munching her food.

"Yes, I fed her." She answers with a mouth full of food, (Y/N) gives her a look but Natasha just grins and swallows her food.

After a few seconds of silence, (Y/N) answered "Okay, I will come" (Y/N) let out a sigh and Snowy in her lap begin to purring when she stroked her back. Natasha jumps up from her seat. "Really!?" Her shout-out startled Snowy and make her jump from (Y/N) lap. Natasha rose to her feet and runs toward (Y/N), she bends down to hug her"you're the best. I'll pick you up at 8" she pull back and turns back to her seat and continues eating her food.

****

When (Y/N) got back from the party, she goes straight to her bedroom. She removed her earrings and make-up, and changed to her nightgown, when she sit in front of her vanity, she let out a sigh. She touches her face and examines them in the mirror. Why she can't get old? That's the question she always asked every year, she can't bear seeing someone close to her die. She is tired of mourning, she is tired of running away, she is tired of hiding, she misses people calling her by her real name, not pretending to be someone else, and she is tired when she can't become herself. She just wants her life back. She looked over her vanity where the black and white photo sat in the grey frame. The photo is of her and Lorraine embracing each other.

She misses her daughter, she misses her husband, she misses her mother, but all of them already leaving her, lonely, here.

***

"Happy Birthday, my darling" (Y/N) bends down to place a bouquet of flowers on top of the grave. It's been three days since the Military Party.

She looked at the name that was engraved on the headstone.

'Lorraine Joanne Williams-Trace'

She wipe the tears that got fallen on her cheek, she rose to her feet and stared at the grave.

"Diana.." A voice behind her startled her, she turn around and face the latter.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" He apologized and approached her.

"It's okay Lieutenant" She turn back to the Grave, he stood beside her.

"Call me Bradley, I'm not wearing uniform now" She turns to look at his outfit, a black suit with no tie. She nodded and turn back to look at the grave. "So, who are you visiting.?" Bradley nodded his head to the grave in front of them.

"My grandmother, it was her birthday today," She told him.

"Oh. Can I give her flowers?" Bradley lifts the sunflower in his hand and waves it in front of her.

"Sure" She nodded at him. She looked when he kneeled on the ground, Bradley the man that saved her from some creep at the party three days ago, the first time she saw him, he captivated her heart. But she can't let her heart fall again for a man, not after the last time. The guilt still crawls into her chest from now on.

Bradley then kneel to place the flower on top of the grave "I hope you like it" he then looked over to the grave beside Lorraine, he saw they have the same last name. "And beside her it was.." he turn to her.

"Her husband" Diana shrugs. Her heart was warm with his actions.

"Oh shoot, I just have one flower" Bradley shot her an apologetic look.

Diana smiled and wave him off "It's okay Bradley, I think he would understand. It was his wife's birthday today" she shrug.

"Sorry pop, but next time I'll give ya flower too" He pats the grave next to Lorraine. Bradley then rose to his feet."So, you still want to stay or are you done here?" He looked at her.

"I'm done in here" Diana then turn around and walked away from the grave, Bradley doing the same and walking beside her. "Okay, let me walk with you"

They walked side by side towards the gate "So, who are you visiting?" Diana asked, breaking the silence between them.

"My mom, it was her anniversary with my dad today. After I visit my dad, I drove here to visit my mom" he glance at her slightly while he talking.

"Oh, they are not in the same cemetery?" She glances at him. She know how it feels to lose the last family you have.

"No, my dad's buried in Fort Rosecrans" Bradley pursed his lip. Diana nodded, she then stopped and place a hand on his bicep. "I'm sorry for your loss". Bradley looked at her hand. When she's aware of what she's doing, she retreats her hand back and begins to walk again. It was a common gesture for her, but she didn't want to give him the wrong signal, no, she will move out of this town. She can't involves with a normal human again.

Dust of pink colour paints his cheeks, a bit embarrassed. He clears his throat. "It's okay, they've been gone for years now. My dad died when I was four, and my mom when I'm still in high school. And since then I live with my uncle" he shrugs casually. "Enough about me, what about you?" He glances at Diana, they step into the stairs that make from stone.

"Well I live with my uncle, my parents are long gone, and after I graduated from college, I move out and ended up here" she shrugged, they stopped at the curb and Diana called out for a cab. She's not lying, it's true, except who they truly are.

"You know last time we met I asked for your number right" Bradley stood in front of her.

Diana furrowed her eyebrows and nodded. "Yes.." That night is still fresh in her mind, never in her life, saw someone jump into a moving car just to get her number.

"Umm... Can I get that know" He hesitates a bit, he rocks his feet back and forth on the pavement and glances at her. Nervous, waiting for her answer.

"The answer is still no, Lieutenant" she glanced at him and shake her head.

Bradley let out a groan, he shoved his hands in his suit pocket "No, It's Bradley, not the Lieutenant again." He groans. "C'mon, it feels right when you call me Bradley"

Diana smile and shake her head "The answer is still no, Bradley"

"Why, though? It's like fate, you know, we met again in the middle of nowhere, where you can bump with any other guy but instead, you met with me. Like when we met in that party where you can meet with another guy or that creepy guy, instead you met with me" He articulate. He didn't mean to bring up that incident, he actually want to talk to her that night. But that creepy guy forces her like that making him want to punch him. Besides, she requested to be alone that night, so he take his shot at the elevator.

"And I'm glad I met you because you save me from him" she nodded to him.

"See, I save you, so this is fate right" he jutted his hand toward her. Diana looked around and saw a cab approach her. She turns to him while the cab begins to drive toward her.

Diana cock an eyebrow at him "Why do you so believe in fate?" Because if it was fate that make her like this, she hate them. They are like a curse to her. They hey make her go through so much pain. This fate that she hates so much.

"Because fate brought me to you," he said softly and stared into her eyes. Diana looked at his eyes and it was like she was back in the 80s, she stared at his eyes until the cab honked and snapped her from staring. She then opens the back seat and climbs into it. Before she can close the window, Bradley places his hands on the cab door.

He bends down to her eye level."Hey, how about this, if we meet again in a random place or bump into each other, you have to agree to go on date with me? And of course, give me your number" He suggested.

"Why I should agree with that?" She cocked her eyebrows to him. This man never gives up.

"Because you don't believe in fate, and I do believe in them" he shrugged. Diana think for a second and let out a sigh and nodded "Okay"

Bradley looked at her wide eyes "Wait you agree!?" He then stands up properly, "Okay, shoot. Until we meet again, Diana" he waves at her.

Diana smiled "Goodbye Lieutenant" she close the window and told the cab driver to drive away. She wishes they didn't meet again because if they meet again, she would fall for his charm.

"It's Bradley! Bradshaw!" Bradley called out, but the cab had already driven away, leaving him alone standing on the pavement.

***

Diana walked beside the shelf to find the book she wanted. When she walked to the fiction section, she saw a familiar figure resting his shoulder on the shelf and casually opening one of the books, he looked straight at her. "So, about that date, what about Friday?" Bradley gives him a side smile. Diana shakes her head and lets out a chuckle.

#top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster x f!reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster x y/n #rooster x female reader

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oddinary4bts · 7 months

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When the End Comes | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: moving, curses, alochol, explicit content: female and male masturbation, pain kink (Jungkook), mentions of blowjob and penetrative sex

☆word count: 8.7k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: I don't even know what to say about this chapter, just that I FEEL their pain so much :'( justice for my babies

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, July 6th

Days and weeks have passed. Apparently, even months have. Jungkook hasn’t really noticed – he’s been stuck in a daze, stuck replaying your breakup over and over again. Wishing he’d begged you to stay, though he could tell that nothing would have been fruitful.

You had made your decision already.

He hasn’t done anything since you left. Hasn’t left your apartment except for looking for a new one, when Yoongi forced him to go. Because alone, he can’t afford the one you had together. And it’s too filled with memories anyway.

All the pictures on the shelves by the window, turned towards the wall the night you left. The echo of your laugh, in every room he steps in. The ghost of you, just a silhouette he can’t ever reach when it’s dark and his mind is playing tricks on him.

The night you left, he thought it was a joke. A sick, twisted prank, and he believed you’d come back. When hours passed and dawn approached, he got up from the spot where he was sitting in, near the door, and turned the pictures towards the wall before heading to bed.

He hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed, and he’d slept with Bam directly on the floor.

A few nights later he’d made an actual bed with blankets on the floor, and he’s been sleeping there since then. But not tonight – tonight he’ll try sleeping in bed, in his new apartment.

A space that shouldn’t remind him of you too much.

He’s packed almost everything before today. He had nothing else to do, and it served to keep his mind busy during the long hours of the day. At night he usually has nothing to keep his mind from going to you, and he thinks he’s stuck in the moment when you left.

It’s a looped film in his mind, a horror movie that will forever haunt him.

The boys are helping. They brought most of the boxes he’s packed to his new place already, a small studio in the same building as Yoongi and Kiko. It’s on the other side of town, far from where he built a life with you, and he really hopes your ghost won’t follow.

Though he doubts he’ll ever escape it.

Everyone is currently doing a trip to the other apartment, except Jungkook and Yoongi. Mostly because Jungkook has been standing in the empty living room, save for the pictures on the shelves.

You left with the couch and the dinner table, telling him to keep the TV even though you were the one to buy it years ago. And that day you came to pick up your stuff…

Another haunting moment to add to the long list that’s been tormenting him since you broke up.

He shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching as the familiar ache takes over his heart. He doesn’t want to cry today – at least not before he’s alone in his new place. Because he hates how his friends are concerned, hates that he can’t just stay home alone.

None of them understand the sorrow that’s been plaguing him – hell, all of them except Jimin are happily dating. A dirty, ugly part of him hates them for it, and he’s been trying to distance himself.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, startling him.

Jungkook’s hand falls to his side, and he forces his eyes open. Yoongi is next to him, an eyebrow cocked in question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to put these in a box?” Yoongi enquires, and Jungkook clenches his fist as Yoongi’s pointing to the pictures.

“I can take care of it.”

It takes him a few seconds before he does get in motion, and he heads to the shelves. There’s already a box waiting for the frames, one Taehyung put there earlier before Jungkook told him not to touch anything.

“Do you want help?” Yoongi asks carefully.

Jungkook steels himself as he grabs the first picture. He already knows which it is, from its placement on the shelf. It’s one of his exhibit’s pictures. The one he titled ‘Where I found hope again’. It’s the sunset from the living room of the apartment he’d found for you.

Seeing it hurts, but he barely pays attention to it, carefully putting it in the box before grabbing the next one. There you are, cheeks red and smile bright in the snow of December, and he feels like dying as he remembers the name of that one.

‘Where I learned to love again’. It feels like it’s laughing at him right now, like life is having a good laugh at his expense. He wants to throw it away, to burn and watch your beautiful form crumbling into ashes.

Instead, he puts it away, before moving to the next one. He thinks he goes blind – he doesn’t see the next pictures. Doesn’t focus on any of them, and lets the ache take over his action, over his heart. When he’s done, he realizes that the apartment is once again filled with voices – none of them being the right one, and he wishes to be alone.

Wishes to be allowed to crumble, to let himself be carried by the wind.

The rest of the day is a blur. He barely remembers getting to his new place, riding shotgun next to Jimin while Taehyung and Namjoon talked about something on the backseat. Jimin was silent, respecting Jungkook’s need to not speak, and maybe it’s for that reason that Jungkook says yes when Jimin asks if he wants some company when the others finally start filing out at the end of the day.

They all hug him tight, tell him that they love him and hope he’ll like his new place. With everything placed, Jungkook knows that he’ll always hate it, because it lacks the only thing that he truly wants – you.

And he’ll never have that again.

“Want to order something?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook is sitting on a kitchen chair, watching the condensation on his glass of water when Jimin speaks. He raises his head – his friend is scrolling on his phone, and he shoots Jungkook a look as he remains silent.

“Sure,” Jungkook finally answers. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Jimin nods. “There’s this great dumpling place nearby, and they deliver.”

“Oh.”

If Jimin notices Jungkook’s lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t mention. Because Jimin is a good friend – he’s been one of Jungkook’s closest friends for years for a reason after all.

“Pork and green onion works for you?” Jimin asks.

“Sure.”

“I’ll get the marinated cucumbers too.” Jimin pouts at his phone as he focuses, and then his gaze darts once to Jungkook. “Anything else you want? They got bobas too.”

Just thinking about drinking boba makes Jungkook feel nauseated, so he shakes his head no. Jimin purses his lips, nods curtly and then says the food is on its way.

His statement is followed by silence, until the front door opens as Yoongi returns with Bam, as promised. Kiko was taking care of him all day, since she and Yoongi live in the same building. Yoongi promises that Bam was a good boy, and then he leaves again, nodding his head at Jimin.

As if to say ‘thank you for being here’. Jungkook hates the gesture, hates that he let Jimin stay, but he figures he can always just ask him to leave when they’re done with the food.

He had to eat anyway, right?

Needless to say, his appetite has been off, since the day you left. He’s been working out more though, something to keep his mind busy, but he’s been unable to eat like before. Jimin forces him to eat half the dumplings though, and Jungkook reckons that even after everything, dumplings still slap.

Not a lot of things in life still slap without you around.

One thing that does suck is, Jimin tries to make conversation through dinner. He asks Jungkook if he has any project coming up, if he ever plans on returning to Europe. The answer is easy, and Jungkook gives it without an ounce of hesitation.

“No.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, as if surprised by his answer. “Why?”

Jungkook grits his teeth, but offers no answers. He thinks it’s obvious – he’s been hating the European continent ever since the night you left because he can’t bring himself to hate you instead. So he directed it to the place that took you from him, and so far it’s been keeping him going.

“You know…” Jimin carefully says. “We’ve all been avoiding talking about it. But how are you even doing, bro? Every time I see you it’s just…”

Worse. He’s convinced that’s what Jimin was going to say, and he doesn’t blame him. It’s worse every time because he has been getting worse. As if adding another mark on the calendar equals to adding another on his heart, and the wounds haven’t had time to heal.

He doesn’t think there’s enough time in a lifetime to heal from losing you.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook lies easily.

Bam offers him salvation, barking by the door. As he rarely does, Jungkook gets up, a frown moving on his features. Jimin lets him go, even as Jungkook mumbles he’ll take the dog outside. His friend remains silent, and Jungkook is able to slip into the evening without Jimin pressing him about the lie.

As Jungkook had assumed, Bam just needed to pee, and probably barked because of the unfamiliar environment. Jungkook debates taking him on a walk, hoping Jimin would be gone by the time he comes back, but it feels too cowardly, even for him.

So he takes Bam in right away – the walk would have been hell anyway.

Jimin hasn’t moved while he was gone, and Jungkook tries to avoid the conversation by cleaning the table, putting away the empty dumpling container in the recycling bin after he’s rinsed it thoroughly. He feels Jimin’s gaze boring into the back of his head, but he does his best to ignore it.

“You shouldn’t drop your job in Europe,” Jimin suddenly says.

Jungkook whips around from his spot by the counter under which the recycling bin is. “What?”

“Isn’t it…” Jimin winces, shaking his head slightly. “Listen, this will be tough love, but isn’t it losing everything if you just… drop it too?”

Jungkook sees red. “Get the fuck out.”

“Bro.”

“Get the fuck out,” he repeats, putting emphasis on each word.

“We’re just worried about you,” Jimin says carefully, still not moving from where he’s sitting.

Jungkook has half a thought that he could carry his friend out if he wanted to, but surprisingly enough his heart breaks in his chest, tears blinding his vision.

“I just can’t go, okay?” he chokes out, and his nails dig in the palm of his hands as he clenches his fists hard. “I just can’t.”

Jimin watches him carefully, before sighing deeply. “Okay. It’s okay. There’s plenty of stuff you can do here too.”

Jungkook gulps, blinking the tears away until Jimin is clear in front of him again. “Can I…”

He stops, because he knows he shouldn’t ask. Knows he shouldn’t care, yet he can’t help himself. Jimin doesn’t press, waits for him to be able to speak. It takes longer than Jungkook thought possible, and he has to shut his eyes and lean against the counter before he finds words again.

“Can I ask how she has been doing?” he voices, words falling softly, almost soundlessly, in the space between them.

“Jungkook…”

“Just,” Jungkook lets out, eyes shooting open. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

Jimin’s silence is telling enough – you must be going through it too. It fills Jungkook with bitterness, with something vile and disgusting that tastes like bile on his tongue. Because you don’t get to be suffering, you don’t get to have made this decision and suffer from it.

Why the fuck did you make that decision then?

“You know,” Jimin starts carefully. “You guys were together for a long time.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks. “Why did she do this?”

And then the tears are moving freely, and Jimin quickly gets up to hug him. Jungkook rests his forehead against his friend’s shoulder as he breaks in the embrace, like he’s been doing for weeks now.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jimin promises when the tears recede and Jungkook stops trembling, as if his body, too, is too tired to keep on breaking.

Strangely, he gets the feeling there’s nothing left to break anyway.

“How?”

Jimin remains silent for a while, as if searching for the exact right words to say. Jungkook doubts they exist – how can someone repair a broken heart such as his?

“Life finds a way,” Jimin eventually chooses to say. He pulls away from the hug, though he still holds onto Jungkook’s shoulders. “Life always finds a way.”

Saturday, July 15th

You’re tired. Have been tired. Think you’ll forever be tired. A relentless exhaustion has settled over you like a mantle of snow settles on the land during the months of winter. With it comes an unshakable cold, and even though it’s summer you’ve been cradling your hoodie to your frame, draping yourself with it as if it’ll chase the cold away.

The cold is never going to leave. You think your heart turned to ice in your chest, and it pumps freezing blood into your veins. You’ve been trying to warm up, but heat is a mirage to you, an illusion you can’t reach.

Heather and Bridget are hosting a dinner at their apartment today. You’d wanted to avoid it, but considering they offered you a room for a few weeks before you found a new apartment, you couldn’t say no. Yet you dread the moment you’ll be faced with the other girls, some of them your friends because they are dating… his friends.

You’ve been trying not to think about him too much. It’s hard – he’s lurking at the back of your mind, a reminder of your failures. Of the places where you went wrong, the mistakes you committed. Not that the breakup was a mistake – you think you made the right decision, or at least you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you have.

But you didn’t lie to him – you love him. Still do, though now it’s more like grief. Though, what is grief if not the next step in the eternal timeline of love?

You worry at your lips, bury your hands in the pocket of the hoodie. You fumble with your keys as you wait in front of the door, as you try to knock but find you’re unable to. Because it means talking to them, it means pretending that you have been able to eat or sleep for weeks.

You reckon Heather and Bridget know, to a certain extent. Saw you wither like a flower when autumn comes, though you think now you’re settled in deep winter.

You think it’ll pass. You doubt a pain like this can last – no soul can withstand it forever. But that would be admitting that he was your soulmate, and you aren’t stupid.

Soulmates don’t exist. Because if he was, why then was the distance enough to break you up?

You sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of your feet. You take a steadying breath – it does nothing to help.

You’re a coward. You’ve become a coward, and you think it might be because you put all of your courage in that night weeks ago. It broke you, broke the steel you used to be able to drape yourself with.

Now you’re stuck in the never-ending winter, withered and lifeless.

“Y/n!” Jo says, and you startle.

You turn your head to the side to see Jo as she’s walking around the corner, and she smiles at you as she makes her way towards you.

“Hey,” you reply as your throat goes dry.

If he has a best friend, or at least a female one, you think it’d be her. They’ve been friends since before you reconnected with him, since before you even knew her. Seeing her feels like it’s wrong, but then again everything has been feeling wrong lately.

“Did you already ring?” Jo asks as she stops next to you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head no. “Huh,” you let out. “I was about to.”

Jo nods, and you think she immediately senses your unease. She’s a good person though, and an even better friend. She doesn’t say anything, and she rings the door for you.

You don’t know what to tell her. All that you can think of is, if someone has news about him, it would be her. She’s the only one you believe there’s a chance he’s been honest to.

Before you can say anything, the door opens and Bridget ushers you inside. You realize that you’re the last ones to get there – you usually never are. Usually always make sure to be the first, only so that you can help the hosts.

It seems losing him changed that.

You greet everyone half-heartedly, quickly moving towards Jiho. Jiho hugs you, tells you she’s happy you came. You can’t return the sentiment, so you offer her a tight-lipped smile as Heather announces that dinner is ready.

Their chatter is lively. You feel like you’re watching the scene through a frosted window. Like you’re stuck in a blizzard, watching people reveling in the warmth of the other side, wishing somehow that they’d share it with you. And it’s not that they don’t try; multiple times throughout dinner the other girls try to talk to you.

You reply, you always do, but there is just so little to say, so little words your brain can conjure up. It’s like your thoughts are slower – you’ve been that way at work too. You’re lucky, you haven’t been working on anything big in the last few weeks. But next week you will be, and you don’t even know if you’ll be able to do it.

At least Harrison is on the case with you. As one of the most talented junior partners of the firm, you think he’ll be able to manage the case even with you at his side.

You eat what you can, though you’ve run out of appetite before you even broke up. You force yourself, mostly because you don’t like how Kiko’s looking at you. How you notice her leaning to speak in Jo’s ear more than once during the meal.

You’re aware that they’re speaking of you – do they hate you as much as you hate yourself?

You doubt they can.

When dinner is over, you offer to clean the dishes. Jo ends up on washing duty with you, and you work in silence, water sloshing around as you rub the plates clean while she dries.

You’re cleaning a wine glass when she says, “How have you been?”

The question is a simple one. The truth isn’t so, and you wonder if you should lie. You think it’d be a mistake. Jo’s perceptive, she’d see right through the lie.

“I’ve been better,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders as if it doesn’t matter.

That much is a lie, because everything about him mattered.

“I can understand.”

Heavy silence follows, and you pass the glass to her. You hope she won’t speak more, hope she’ll offer you kindness and let you dwell on your mistakes, but you know it’s unlike her.

Indeed, she speaks up after a minute. “You know…” She pauses, and you glance once at her to find her features troubled. “I was wondering… what brought you to this decision?”

You freeze, hands in the water. It’s hot enough that your skin is turning scarlet, yet you barely even feel it. “What?”

“If you don’t want to speak about it it’s fine,” she gently says. “But I’m just concerned about you.”

“Did he ask you to ask me this?” you enquire, accusingly. You frown at the tone of your voice, and apologize as you resume washing the glass you’re holding.

“No,” she answers. “He hasn’t really been talking to anyone.”

You shudder, with horror and compulsion at the person that you were weeks ago, the one that caused him to isolate himself.

“Oh.”

Jo waits a moment, but when it’s clear that you aren’t going to speak again, she says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t prod.”

You wet your lips, swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s okay.”

Perhaps that’s also a lie. Perhaps you believe nothing is okay, nothing will be okay again. But you don’t voice it – it’s all your fault anyway.

“It’s okay if it isn’t okay, you know,” Jo gently says as you hand her a glass.

Your vision blurs, but no tears fall. No tears are left – you cry them to sleep every night already.

“Long distance is a bitch,” is what you eventually say. “You think you can make it through everything, and then long distance happens.”

You want to clench your hand around the third glass, want to feel the shards of it cutting through your palm like the shards of him have been stabbing through your heart. You force your grip to remain loose, lest you stain the sink with blood.

“Like for real, without it we would have been fine.”

You’ve told Jiho the same thing. You think you’ve told him the same thing, but you barely even remember the breakup. Just remember holding onto him at the end, and then winter seeping in through the crevices in your soul.

“I’m sorry.” Jo looks at you kindly when you glance her way. She offers you a sad smile that you want to hate, yet it just makes you want to break. “I’m really sorry it came between the two of you.”

You take a deep breath to tame the aching in your chest, nodding once. “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not.”

She’s right, so you remain silent. Choose to seek solace in a wordless moment, one you spend finishing the dishes. And when you’re done, and she’s wiping the last one, you find yourself asking, “How has he been doing?”

She stops moving, meets your gaze before letting her gaze drop to her hands. “As I said, he doesn’t really speak to anyone.”

“Which means he hasn’t been great.”

You know him enough to know that. She does too – she nods, before shrugging her shoulders. “Jimin and Tae have been making sure he’s okay though. Surviving.”

Because sometimes all there is to do is survive.

You’re relieved that his friends are there for him. It lessens the pain somehow, to know he’s not alone. You aren’t either – Jimin is your friend too and, even though she’s a mom of two, Jiho has been there for you ever since the breakup.

The first time Lisa asked you where Jungkook was though… felt like heartbreak uttered in an innocent sentence. Like the universe had gone wrong, like left and right were interchanged. You were lost then, and you still are today.

All at your expense.

“Good,” you answer.

She looks conflicted, pained – you understand why when she asks, “What about you?”

You clench your jaw out of reflex, as if it’s an accusation. As if admitting that you’re going through frozen hell is wrong of you, somehow. You think it is. After all, this is supposed to be better than the distance.

“I’ve got Jimin too, and Jiho,” you reply, voice strained. “Bridget and Heather too. They’ve been helping.”

Jo nods. “Good. Don’t isolate yourself.” There’s a pause, and her features turn pensive. “And you know, you got me too. You have all of us.”

Tears blur your vision, but like your soul they turn to ice before rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

Smile apologetic, she nods again, as if her job here is done. And it must be – Kiko and Bridget walk into the kitchen, and they clearly don’t sense the atmosphere that’s clinging to you. They strike conversation with Jo, happily, and her stance switches to one that’s more relaxed.

You decide to leave them alone, because these three have always been a little closer to each other than you to them, and you return to the other room, where Chaeyeon, Valeria, Jiho and Heather are lounging on the couches. You debate leaving, debate claiming that you have to work early in the morning, but somehow you choose not to.

Is it a sign that you’re moving on? You don’t know.

When you do leave, later that night, at the same time as Jo and Chaeyeon do, you find yourself walking next to Jo as you head to your respective cars. Lance is picking Chaeyeon up, and she waves you two goodbye as you walk away.

You stuff your hands in the long sleeves of your hoodie, as if the air outside is remotely cold. It is not – there’s been a heatwave around for a few days. Luckily enough for you, a freezing heart seems to be a good remedy for the heat, and you still seek the comfort of your hoodie.

“I was wondering,” Jo says as you near where your car is parked. “Are you still planning on coming to the wedding?”

The forsaken wedding. The thing that set everything in motion – the spark that caught fire on years of your relationship.

You purse your lips, shrug your shoulders. “I think so,” you voice. “Yeah. You two are my friends, even if…”

If you’re closer to him. You don’t say as much, but it’s needless. Jo nods, understanding as ever, and she tells you that you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.

You think she’s a fool for believing that you wouldn’t want to go. Because… what’s wrong with wanting to make sure he’s okay with your own two eyes? What’s wrong with needing to see him in another context than this never-ending winter?

That night, you lie awake for hours. Picturing him behind your closed eyelids, only to find emptiness where he should be. The blankets are cold, the fan overhead not needed, yet you can’t bring yourself to turn it off.

Can’t chase the feeling of his absence from your heart.

You seek solace in memories of him, in the thought of his lips on yours. Of the featherlight kisses you used to exchange in the dead of night, when sleep was evading you or him. You must be half asleep – because suddenly you can almost see him here. Can almost hear his voice as he’d call you baby, mouthing the word against your neck before he’d suck on it.

Your heartrate picks up with the memory – they’re flooding in. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the inebriating sweetness of his kisses. You remember the weight of him on you, the press of his knee between your legs.

And then you seek solace with a hand between your thighs, trying to remember how he touched you. How his long fingers always dragged you to a land of pleasure, how he’d managed to keep you there until you were insane with his taste.

You breathe out his name, a soft moan, though it’s almost a plea. A plea for him to appear, for him to never have been gone.

For you to never have pushed him away.

When you come down from the high that finds you in your memories, you lie on your side, holding one of your plushies to your chest. They don’t replace him; they never have.

You end up crying yourself to sleep over the memories, over the July night sky and the dance crew and every night you took for granted, believing that he’d be yours forever.

You cry for your decision, no matter how right it was. Because you know it’ll always feel wrong.

Friday, July 28th

There’s something about work that’s been setting you on edge. That’s been making you want to pull your hair out of your head – if only that was possible. It’s strange; you’ve been thinking about the breakup less now that you’re neck deep in work.

Now that you spend hours upon hours at work, after the usual closing time.

Luckily enough, you’re almost never alone. Harrison accompanies all of those late evenings as you work through the case, as he tells you what to do and you tell him you don’t need his help. He laughs at that – Harrison has an easy laugh. It makes its way to his lips whenever you speak, and it’s been like a ray of light in the otherwise dark land of your heart.

He’s a good coworker. Someone that’s noticed just how bad you are, but that’s decided to not treat you differently. To let you nurse your heart in peace, while he offers you the normalcy of what work should be.

Today, at lunch break, he suggested going out for dinner and drinks, along with the rest of the team that’s been working on the case. Mostly because you’re finally closing in on something that is clearly going to be good, and he believes it’s important to celebrate. You don’t have it in you to say no, and that’s how you find yourself squeezed between him and Anna, the paralegal that you’ve worked with the most, in the booth of a nice pub near the firm.

You’ve been sharing a nacho plate with Harrison and Ian, another one of the junior partners of the firm, and you’re sipping on a glass of the pitcher of sangria that Anna ordered for you and her. The buzzing of chatter and laughter makes the pub into a lively place, and you reckon you like the atmosphere.

You like the plants that cascade from their pots on shelves in the walls, like the hanging lights that shine brightly onto the tables, like the brick wall that gives the pub a nice industrial vibe. It just feels right, different than your usual.

Or maybe it’s the fact that the crew is different. That you aren’t with people that inevitably remind you of Jungkook, even though they shouldn’t.

Harrison’s English accent catches your attention as he says something to Ian – something about leaving work related conversation to the firm. As you turn your head towards the man at your side, he offers you a glance.

Harrison has clear blue eyes. Pale, like they hold the Caribbean sea in them. His eyes are beautiful, sparkling, and you offer him a smile.

He’s quick to smile back, and then he continues his conversation with Ian, who’s decided to speak about sports instead. You decide to join in, even though you know practically nothing about sports, and the two men tease you for it.

There’s no bite to it, yet it feels familiar. Reminds you of someone that used to tease you all the time, and with the sangria coursing through your veins, you decide to jump on the occasion. To let the past be the past, and live in this moment, for once.

Perhaps it holds some sort of salvation for you.

“It’s not my fault if football is boring!” you insist. “It’s just dudes throwing a ball. Who cares about that?”

Harrison nudges you with his elbow. “Hey come on,” he says. “They don’t only throw a ball, sometimes they kick it too.”

He’s got a teasing smile on his lips, and to your surprise you find yourself rolling your eyes. “And the point system? Stupid.”

“It isn’t!” Harrison says, faking offense. “You wound me.”

You cock an eyebrow as Ian laughs, before turning to speak to Sam next to him as the guy asks him a question.

“Aren’t you British anyway?” you ask him. “Why do you watch football?”

“Because I like dudes that throw balls,” he jokes, before realizing that his sentence sounded wrong as you burst out laughing. “Well, not like that.”

“No, of course not,” you tease back.

“It’s just a fun sport,” he insists. “Used to watch it with my step-dad when I was younger.”

Now, the revelation eases the teasing mood that you’ve been diving into, and you offer him a small smile. “Sounds like fun.”

Because you can get that. You can understand the need to love something because someone you loved introduced you to it – dance was that for you, once upon a time. When your mother had introduced you to it, when you were too young to realize that to her, you dancing was just going to be an accomplishment.

Until it became a curse, as you chose to not pursue ballet the way she wanted you to. But that’s old history – even though you still don’t talk to your mother all that much, the hatred you’ve held for her for years after she’s kicked you out is lesser now. Practically non-existent, and you have your therapist to thank for that.

Years of therapy really did help, eventually.

You realize, tonight, how you haven’t really been living since you broke up. You’ve been a mere ghost, a mere winter wind, but tonight you think the air warms up. It warms up into a tentative spring breeze, and you cling to it.

You say yes when Harrison suggests heading to a club after, a VIP one where he’s a member along with Ian. Say yes to the shots offered to you, and you ignore the texts in the group chat with the girls saying that they want to meet up for lunch tomorrow. You focus on the now, focus on the fact that he’s not all you’re thinking of.

No, his big, doe eyes barely exist in your mind right now, replaced by ocean blue and an English accent. At least that’s what you tell yourself as Harrison says he’s a shit dancer, and you admit you were on a dance crew for years.

He cocks an eyebrow, says you’re full of shit, and that’s how you find yourself pulling him to the dance floor, not caring that his hair is paler than your usual, that his smile rings different.

Harrison is not a good dancer. He’s awkward, clumsy, and he steps on your feet more than once as you dance face to face, swaying to the beat of the club music. The flashing lights feel like a haven, like you don’t have to hide in the darkness left by Jungkook’s disappearance from your life.

You let Harrison put his hands on your waist, let him pull you closer, until he’s resting his forehead on yours. Your eyes shut from the proximity, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Somehow, that’s what makes you remember – not the dancing, but the intimacy of the position. It makes you crave another, makes you need to forget, and you’re the one that closes the gap.

You’re the one who kisses him first, and he kisses you back all wrong. There’s something missing – the piercing, perhaps – but you don’t let it deter you. Focus on the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, and you sigh as you let him in.

But Jungkook is there, in your mind. When Harrison’s hands tighten on your waist, it’s in Jungkook’s hair that you want to thread your fingers through. When he groans softly in the kiss, as you bite his lower lip, it’s Jungkook’s lips that you want to be sucking on.

And you think it’ll always be Jungkook. He’ll haunt you forever – a reminder of your weakness, when it came to the distance. A reminder that, after everything, you’re the one that ruined it.

You’re the one that put an end to what was supposed to be forever.

It aches, coldly. You think your heart barely knows how to beat anymore. It’s erratic, painful, and when Harrison pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes finding yours, you think his irises are made of ice.

“Hey,” he says gently.

“Hey,” is all you can think to reply.

If he sees the torment in your eyes, he ignores it. Guides you back to the table, where he leaves you with Ian and the rest claiming that he’ll get a water for you. And he does – he comes back with two bottles of water, and he hands you one as he sits next to you.

You think that’s what undoes you. That’s what breaks you, spills the content of your aching soul right there on the club’s floor. You don’t know who’ll pick up the mess – the one it belongs to is far away from these flashing lights. Far, yet closer than he was when the ending came. Somewhere in the city, you believe, because you don’t think he’s gone back to Europe yet.

Would he answer, if you were to call him? Would he pick up right where you left off, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if you haven’t destroyed his beating organ?

You hate it. Hate how, weeks later, the torture hasn’t diminished. Hate how you believed it’d be just a few rough days, when it’s been weeks and months and winter hasn’t changed.

So you do what you do best. You escape. Tell the table that you have to go, and make it outside before Harrison catches up to you. He asks if he can walk you home, which makes sense because you live in the same complex anyway. Not the same building, but Harrison lives in the one across the small square-like courtyard between the three condo towers where you’ve found a place to rent after Jungkook.

Up above, stars twinkle in the sky. They seem unaware that, after that cataclysm of a July night, the story came to an end. Like the universe never meant it, when it put you and him together. Or maybe it’s you – maybe you created a new cataclysm. Wrote your own fate, and all that crap.

You’re getting dizzy. Both with alcohol and spinning thoughts, but luckily enough the walk is short. Harrison grants you silence, sensing that you need it, probably. Because he’s gentlemanly. Not that Jungkook wasn’t – it’s just different.

And you shouldn’t be comparing him to Jungkook, but it’s far too easy. Especially as your treacherous little mouth asks him if he wants to share a drink in your apartment, as you tell him that you feel better now that you’ve breathed some air.

He says yes, though he seems unsure. He seems unsure all the way up to your floor, and even more so as you pull him in a kiss when the door closes behind you and him. Especially as you breathe against his lips, “Do you think you can make me forget?”

After everything is done, and you lie awake next to his naked form, both of you staring up at the ceiling in silence, you know the answer to that question.

And it’s quite simple – no. Because no one will ever be able to make you forget the one you were supposed to be with until you turned to stardust. Until all that would have been left of the two of you was etchings on a stone, and memories in the space between this life and the next.

Harrison is kind – he tells you that he senses you shouldn’t have done it, gently. Tells you that the only person that can make you forget is yourself, and time. And when he leaves, he tells you not to worry about anything. That he can be a friend, if you need it, but that he doubts you want anything more.

He’s right, and you cry yourself to sleep holding onto Totoro and Appa, hoping weeks ago you would have listened to Jungkook when he’d said not to break up. Hoping to turn back time, cursing the linearity of it. Remembering the punctuate events of you and him, wondering how the distance was enough to undo your timeline.

The sun winks at you when it rises, mocking you as night ends, with no answer for you. The what-ifs shine as brightly as the rays of the morning, all of them piercing through your darkened heart.

You shiver and hide your face in Totoro, hoping one day you’ll be able to evade winter.

Friday, August 18th

Jungkook’s first thought when he steps into the restaurant is that it’s too loud. Too bright, with happy couples and smiling families sharing a meal as if life’s never ended, three months and ten days ago. He feels like an imposter – he hasn’t smiled since you left, and hasn’t laughed since before that.

He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, when Taehyung suggested it. Maybe because Taehyung and Jimin can be firmly persuasive, when they decide they’ll do something. Though, this time around, they’re not doing anything.

Anything other than having set this blind date with one of Taehyung’s coworkers.

Jungkook decides to find solace in his thoughts. Away from the bustling crowd of the restaurant, into the cool darkness where he’s been evading since he moved to his new apartment. Somewhere where the pain is lesser, where he doesn’t cry all the time.

That’s where she finds him. A shy smile, rosy cheeks as she voices, “Jungkook?”

He meets her gaze, finds her long lashes as she looks up at him innocently. He’s struck – she’s way out of his league. But so were you, and he’s got a whole story to tell about you now. He looks around as if to make sure the girl was speaking to him, as if she didn’t say his name, before he answers, “I assume you’re Emma.”

Another shy smile, and Emma nods her head. “The one and only.”

Jungkook wets his lips, and when the server comes to bring them to a table, he lets his gaze drop to the ground as he follows behind Emma.

He sits in front of her, feeling odd as she blushes and looks through the menu. Her shyness makes him feel awkward, and he doesn’t know what to say.

With you, he always knew what to say.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath and then lets his eyelids flutter open so that he can look through the menu too. He thinks, he just has to make it through the evening. Doesn’t have to see the girl again, even though her shy smiles are cute.

She is cute, but she’s not you. No one will ever compare to you.

He takes a deep breath once more, tries to push you out of his thoughts. For the first time in weeks, it’s not as hard. Maybe because his awkwardness is winning over, making him all too aware of every glance the girl throws his way.

They order, barely exchanging a word, until the girl throws him a lifeline. She asks about his photography, admits Taehyung told her about it, and Jungkook settles in his comfort space as he tells her about it, as he answers her question.

It’s impersonal, almost professional, but at least it keeps the pain at bay for a while. He even thinks he’s enjoying himself – by the time they’re eating and he’s drank half of his beer, he does feel lighter. Like he can finally breathe, like the hand clutching his heart in his chest has loosened.

Or maybe he’s just been getting too good at burrowing his feelings deep inside of him. Still, he barely smiles, barely laughs. And he knows none of his smiles quite reach his eyes, and he knows the girl must have noticed. She doesn’t say anything though, focuses on telling him what she does for work, and then goes on to tell him about what it was like for her growing up.

He zones out, nods when he figures he has to, tries to smile when there’s a lull in the conversation. He’s clearly not good at that – he’s never really gone on dates before. Except with Laura, before you, but even that barely counted as a date. Perhaps because he already knew Laura, and he’s struck thinking that the girl in front of him is a stranger. A stranger, yes, but she’s kind. So when she suggests sharing a bottle of wine, claiming that it’s her favourite and that she’s wanted to drink it in a long time, Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to say no.

Even though they’re already done with eating. She does order dessert, and he watches her eat as he nurses his glass of wine, taking sips from it once in a while.

He hasn’t drunk in a long time, and the effects start to be felt faster than usual. Or maybe the beer he drank before the wine was strong. Either way, his head starts swimming with alcohol before they’re out of the restaurant, and he relishes in the feeling.

Revels in Emma’s suggestion to take a walk to clear their head, along the small river near the restaurant. The evening air is fresh, though clouds hide the stars from view. It smells of rain – there are leftover puddles from earlier today – but it doesn’t seem like the sky will cry again tonight.

A soft breeze plays in Jungkook’s hair. He hasn’t cut it in a while. It used to be a lot longer, but he’s not used to it anymore, so it feels weird whenever strands of his hair pass in front of his eyes. He tries to push them back but to no avail: the strands stubbornly always fall in front of his eyes again, and he ends up giving up after a moment.

Turns out Emma is a gamer. She suggests playing some games together the next time they hang out, and Jungkook doesn’t have it in himself to tell her that they, as a matter of fact, won’t see each other ever again. Not because she isn’t sweet – she’s just not what he wants. And he doesn’t even want the distraction.

He did that once, and it didn’t serve him good. Even if he managed to have you in the end.

“What’s your favourite game?” Emma asks as she stops next to some railing overlooking the water. She leans against it, forearms resting on it as she looks at the water, eyes following the ripples in the river.

“I don’t game as much anymore,” he admits. He shrugs, tries to ignore the way his lungs burn.

Because he used to game with you next to him, and he doesn’t need reminders of you.

“Mine is Valorant,” she says, and she smiles at him as if she expected that to make him happy.

“Oh,” he lets out. He offers her a tight-lipped smile, and feels bad when her face falls a little. So he quickly adds, “I took you more for a Sims girl.”

She fakes offense. “What? Why?”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and he’s struck silent as he watches it. She seems to take that as a cue for something else, because she takes a step closer to him, eyes dropping to his mouth.

He thinks he’s frozen on his spot when she tilts her head back, tiptoes, and presses a featherlike kiss on his lips. Eyes wide opened, he watches her, until he figures he should be kissing her back.

So he does, hesitantly, as lead forms in his stomach, making him think that he’s going to be sick. Because she kisses him all wrong. Tastes all wrong too, and suddenly you’re burning in his mind, bright magma that moves in his veins until pain suffocates his lungs.

He takes a step back, and Emma’s eyes shoot open, as if startled. They stare at each other for a time, and then she gulps.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t care for her apology. Doesn’t care about anything other than the fact that he feels disgusted with himself. And for what? It’s not like he owes you anything anymore. As a matter of fact, he should be enjoying this. Should be enjoying that even though he was his most awkward self, he still was able to get the girl to kiss him.

Instead, he burns and he chokes on his saliva as he tries to swallow. He wonders why his vision is blurry, and he furiously blinks his eyes trying to keep Emma in focus.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “Gosh, I read this all wrong. I…” she pauses, shaking her head slightly, and it seems she’s been wearing a mask all evening, because it crumples into nothingness. “I just got out of a long relationship, Tae said you too and I just… Fuck I just assumed we could comfort each other?” When he remains silent, she continues, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She’s rambling, and Jungkook just hears his blood pumping in his ears. When he still doesn’t speak, she apologizes once more, and then tells him that she should go.

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t even look as she walks away, head hung low in what he assumes is shame. All he feels is the deep burning sensation, as it settles under his skin. Like a sunburn – he wants to scratch at it, wants to rip it from his skin, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re gone, and this ache is all that’s left of you. It’s all that’s left, so he clings to it. Tries to keep it close to his heart, where you belong. Picks at the scab, at the wound, until he’s bleeding all over again, breaking out in the city, where anyone can see that he’s lost you.

He doesn’t know how he makes it home. All that he knows is that he’s in the shower, later, head pressed against the tiles as cold water runs on his back. It mingles with the tears streaking down his cheeks, mixes with the saltiness of heartbreak.

It doesn’t cool the sunburn ache, doesn’t ease the pain in his chest. And you’re everywhere then – in the cracks on the wall, he believes he can see you. Believes he can reach out for you, though what he ends up doing is cranking the temperature of the shower up, until it’s not cold anymore.

Though he reckons he barely can feel it anymore.

So he forces his eyes shut, chases memories of you like a dog chases its tail – round in round, in a circle, because he thinks he’ll always circle back to you anyway. He imagines you, in all your glory. Imagines you’ve never left, imagines you’d still run your hands on his back, still dig your nails in his skin.

He doesn’t even know how his hand finds its way to the base of his dick. Doesn’t even know why he’s horny, why the pain makes him crave you more. Why it makes him touch himself, imagining it’s your touch. And with his eyes squeezed shut, you’re everywhere. The goddess of the land of his mind, and he can almost believe you’re still here.

He grunts, perhaps in pain, and picks up the pace on his dick. He remembers words whispered on your skin, your spit on his dick as you’d swallow around the tip. He remembers your tight walls, clutching him, holding him in as you’d ride him like there was no tomorrow.

He remembers a hot tub and the night that followed, remembers breaking and healing with you. Remembers the darkness of the accident, and the light you’d shine on him. The light is gone now, and only darkness remains. It’s not the same – it’s lonelier, somehow. Because he had everything, and now remains nothing. Just the ghost of what once was, and he wishes he could be taken back to the night on the hotel rooftop, wishes you’d never left.

And when he comes, it’s your name that he moans. Like a blessing, though now you’re a curse. A curse to him, and he wishes the pain would go away, wishes it would stay. Wishes it would bring you back, yet knowing he’d push you away. Because he doesn’t think there is pain as great as what you caused him, and then he curses himself for the thought.

That night, he lies awake in sheets cold as winter, weakened by his broken heart as he chases sleep that never comes.

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