#And gets the courage to stand up to his mom and say his truth and she gets him on hrt

[no-psi-nan]

If Kuboyasu was a butch lesbian and Kaido was a trans guy then their characters and friendship would've been 300% more interesting tbh. A beautiful alternate world where Asou was 40% more goated.

[btsficsandsuch]

It Worked, Didn’t It?

Jungkook’s family keeps referring to you as his girlfriend, but as far as you know you’re nothing more than friends.

You and your best friend Jungkook were on your way to Busan. It was his dad’s birthday and his mom was throwing him a small party. You were pretty nervous. This was the first time that you were meeting his family. The truth was you had a teeny tiny not so small crush on Jungkook. The thought of confessing to him crossed your mind multiple times, but every time you thought you had worked up the courage you would back out. You didn’t think he felt the same and you didn’t want to ruin the friendship.

You were shaken out of your thoughts when you felt a hand land on your thigh. “We’re here Y/N.”, Jungkook said with a smile. You nodded and opened the passenger side door and exited the car. Jungkook jogged around and grabbed your hand pulling you inside, your heart skipping a beat.

Once inside he introduced you to everyone as you made your rounds. He took you into the kitchen where his mom was putting the finishing touches on some appetizers. You watched him walk over to his mom and give her a kiss on the cheek. His mom noticed you standing in the doorway. She motioned for you to come over, “Y/N come in dear. Don’t be afraid.” You smiled as you entered the kitchen, “Thank you for allowing me to join in the party.” She smiled at you, “Of course. Jungkook’s girlfriend is always welcome here.” You felt like there was a knot in your stomach. Did she just say girlfriend? What did she mean by that? Trying to calm yourself down you told yourself it was probably just due to the language barrier. She just assumed you were a girl and a friend therefore a girlfriend. Right?

You were so caught up in your own thoughts you didn’t see the blush form on Jungkooks cheeks. The party was going great and you were having a good time. You just couldn’t ignore the fact that everyone kept referring to you as Jungkook’s girlfriend. You had been trying to ask him about it, but every time you tried he would walk away or make himself busy doing something else.

The party was starting to wind down and you were sitting on the couch next to Jungkook’s brother. To break the silence he cleared his throat, “So Y/N, how long have you and Jungkook been dating?” Your eyebrows furrowed, “dating?” He must’ve, noticed the confusion on your face, “Yeah we were all pretty surprised when Jungkook said he was bringing his girlfriend to the party. We’re happy for him though. He seems so happy with you.”

You were trying to take this all in. Why would he tell his family that you’re his girlfriend? He never even said anything to you. Suddenly Jungkook came out of nowhere, his face in a full on blush, “Y/N you ready to go? We have a long drive back home.” You left the couch and made your rounds saying goodbye to everyone before heading out the door.

Once in the car there was an awkward silence. You weren’t really sure how to approach the situation. Eventually you decided to bring it up needing to know what was going on. Clearing your throat, “Kookie did you tell your family that I was your girlfriend?” You could see him biting his bottom lip, something he did when he was nervous.

After a few moments he let out a breath, “Yeah Y/N I did. I’m sorry. I let it slip to my brother that I was going to ask you out and he told our mom and she called me really excited and begged me to bring you to the party so she could meet you and I didn’t want to back out so I just agreed. The truth is I had planned on asking you out a few nights ago when we were hanging out at my place, but I chickened out and couldn’t do it.” You thought back to that night. You remembered him being extra fidgety the whole evening before abruptly leaving to go to the restroom and coming back to announce he was really tired so you’d get the hint and leave. At the time you didn’t think much of it, thinking maybe he just didn’t feel well so you left.

He was beginning to ramble. Another sign he was nervous, “I was really hoping they’d forget about it, but I guess they were just too excited to meet you.”

You look up at him noticing that he looked like he was about to cry. He continued again, “I understand if you don’t want to be friends any more Y/N. I know I made it really awkward for you today because I didn’t have the courage to actually ask you out first like I should’ve.” You let out a small chuckle at how sad he looked. You just wanted to engulf him in a huge hug.

Right then then car pulled up in front of your apartment building. Jungkook sighed, “I can walk you up to your apartment if you’d like. I promise I won’t stay. I just want to make sure you make it in safe.” You nodded and the two of walked up to your door. You entered in the code and pushed it open walking inside.

You turned around expecting Jungkook to follow you, but he just stood at the entrance. “I’ll leave you be Y/N, sorry again that I put you through that.” You stopped him by grabbing his hand and pulling him in with you. “Do you really think I’m going to let my boyfriend leave without a goodbye kiss?”, you said before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to you, giving him a kiss. “I can’t believe you basically let your family ask me out for you”, you said with a laugh. “It worked didn’t it?”, he chuckled before going in for another kiss.

[overtaken-stream]

What's your opinion on Katakuri being a dad ^-^, ik he doesnt pull out

Father!Katakuri headcanons

This is all my brain can come up with. It's a bit short, and I'm not satisfied with this, I feel like I could have added more, thus this has been collecting dust in my drafts. I hope you like it anon.

Warnings: End of Wano spoilers, this is meant for F!Reader.

I imagine he had children after Big Mom passed. Or a few years before she died, and of course, the marriage was arranged once Big Mom realized that she might just be left without any offspring from her third child.

And as much as I'd like to get lost in Father Katakuri, I can not ignore the warning signs this road presents.

The man doesn't see his children often enough. He always wanted to spend time with his family, but in this job, that isn't possible. Big Mom often holds his family over his head, making empty promises about him having a week off to help take care of the children, only to call him back before the sun rises on the fourth day. He had the courage to ask her for more time at the beginning, or to not disturb him during that single week where he spends time in metaphorical paradise with kids whom he loves and his partner whom he tries to shower with affection. He asked that of her once and when Big Mom does not deliver, Katakuri learns to cope with the dissatisfaction, it's a song he has heard of all his life, he knows every word and note that plays, he wants nothing more than to stop listening so that his kids don't step away from him again. It's impossible, and he comes to terms that he won't have that fatherly privilege. He feels like a stranger around the kids. No amount of comfort will be able to hide the truth.

It isn't the first time Big Mom pushed away a father from his biological children.

Although his time with his kids is short, it's always full of adorable moments, Katakuri is trying very hard to be a father even with his mother standing in his way.

I see Katakuri as a father of 3. Two girls and one boy, who is the youngest.

The man loves sweets, donuts, chocolate bars, cinnamon buns, and all, so he will be DEVASTATED if one of his kids isn't a big fan of sweets. He'll try to make them change their mind, maybe persuading them to eat a different kind of dessert, but once it becomes clear that they aren't into it, he accepts the fact with great pain, since he cannot share the simple pleasure of eating sugar with his child.

Katakuri often can't get his emotions across to others, including his siblings, but with his children, he tries, he really tries. This can be seen in spending quick yet platonically intimate moments with them alone and making small talk that he isn't a big fan of.

He also hopes that when the children grow up, there won't be any distance between them, it's basically a death sentence for him.

The moment Big Mom dies, Katakuri is finally able to keep his promise to his family and breathe with no one holding his leash.

I also think of him as a laid-back father who's strict when needed. His behavior is the result of countless years he spent mulling over his future family and what type of parent he would be. So this led to him walking on metaphorical eggshels that he imagined every time he got close to his children. Which they definitely took for granted.

Katakuri is very careful with his children because of it, I'd say that he is so scared that the kids would build a wall and be mad at him for not spending enough time with them that the man unconsciously started constructing the said wall.

[angelicsoka]

THE MOVE, l. hughes

part one <3

word count | 0.8k

pairings | luke hughes x best friend!reader, platonic!jack & quinn hughes x reader

summary | its time for you to leave for college, and time for feelings to be revealed

warnings | not proofread. no use of “y/n”. lowercase intended. this is a work of fiction, i am by no means saying this is how they act in real life.

a/n | and here is the highly requested part two to prom night!

the day you had been dreading for months was approaching, leaving you strung up with anxiety. it was the day you were set to move from michigan to indiana to attend the university of notre dame. you had spent the last week packing everything you had planned on taking with you, going through clothes and pictures. you had spent a lot of that time, crying and reminiscing. you were beginning to regret committing to the university, your nerves taking over. 

when you weren't packing, you were spending time with luke and your mutual friends, hoping to settle the pit in your stomach. luke was not doing any better than you, only he hid it better. he had been plucking up the courage to admit his feelings, only to be brought down by the thoughts of you being so far away from him, surrounded by fraternity brothers and sorority sisters. he feared the rejection that may come and he feared having to see you with somebody who wasn't him. 

it was the night before you were set to leave; luke had brought over take out, the two of you set to have a movie night. you two were no longer paying attention to the movie, too focused on chatting, reminiscing. “lukey, can i tell you something?” luke nodded, his attention entirely on you.  “i’m not sure i want to leave. this last month all i have felt when i think about leaving is anxiety. what if i’m making a mistake?” she tried to ignore the quiver in her voice, willing the tears to not fall. luke, who was the king of being oblivious, noted the quiver and tears, pulling you into a hug.

“it’ll be okay.” the dam broke, tears silently streaming down your cheeks. “you’ll have the time of your life! plus, if you don't like it, you can always transfer to umich!” luke felt you laugh; he had been trying to get you to go to umich since you had gotten the acceptance letter but notre dame was your dream school. “i’m always a call away.”

you smiled, coming to rest against luke’s chest. you didn't even try to fight off the sleep, finding comfort in your best friend’s arms. luke, however, was not able to sleep that night. instead he laid there, trying to hold onto the content he felt with you in his arms. trying to get the courage to tell you the truth, preferably while you were awake. 

luke helped your father carry your boxes to the car as you fought jack who was attempting to steal one of your many funko pops. “jackson rowden hughes! that is my funko pop! put it down!” you gave chase when he took off running, grabbing the water hose, aiming and firing at him. he shrieked, dropping the figurine, a shocked look on his face.

“how dare you!” you could hear ellen and your mom laughing, jack stalking toward you with a cheshire smile on his face. you held the hose up again in defense, but jack still ran at you. you dropped the hose, barely dodging jack as you ran to luke for protection. luke stood in front of you protectively, jack standing with his hands on hips when he realized he wouldn't be able to get past luke. “of course! running to your boyfriend to protect you.” he smirked devilishly, heat spreading to your cheeks. your mouth was agape, shocked at jack’s words. you began to stutter out a response, backing away from luke. 

“well, someone has to protect her from your dumbass.” luke stated simply, turning to put another box in your car. by now, it was just you, luke, and jack outside, leaving you to be openly shocked. he didn't deny it. you didn’t see jack sneak away to grab quinn. 

“lu?” you questioned, luke avoiding your gaze. “luke warren hughes, look at me damnit!” luke sighed, turning to face you. “tell me that was nothing. tell me that you didn’t deny it because it was just a stupid comment.”

“well, then i’d be lying.” you looked at him with confusion. luke stepped toward you, closing the gap between the two of you with a feverish kiss. as quick as it started, it was over. luke went to apologize, but you simply gripped his collar, pulling him back into the kiss.

“goddamnit!” you broke the kiss, turning to see quinn pulling out his wallet and handing jack a hundred dollars. “i’m disappointed in you.” quinn pointed to you.

“you were betting on us?”

“we weren’t the only ones.” jack motioned to you parents who were receiving money from jim and ellen. luke laughed at your shocked look, turning your head to kiss you once more.

“okay, okay, that's enough! get a room!”    

[daechwitatamic]

3. Libration || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 3: Libration

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, drinking, angst, kissing, implied protected s*x/ kind of the immediate aftermath to it, TIME JUMPS, boners lol, nip stim, groping, fingering, explicit protected s*x, multiple orgasms (f. receiving), dom reader but barely, reader on top WC: 14k

Part 3: Libration

Libration: (noun) A slight tilting of the Moon over time that brings parts of the Moon that are normally obscured into view

For his entire life, Seokjin’s fingers had begged to reach for you. If he was practiced at anything, a master of any skill, it was holding them still, tamping them down, busying them with game controls or swiping a screen to stop them on their pilgrimage towards yours.

He’d almost told you so many times. Without fail, every single time, he’d chicken out. 

Like the morning his dad had driven him to campus for the first time, the car loaded up with everything he wanted to bring along. It was one of those late summer days, the whole season setting like the sun. It felt like endings. Seokjin had been really in his feelings about it, to be honest.

He’d leaned against the car, arms crossed, as you stood staring back at him. Waiting. Waiting to say goodbye.

Your whole lives, you’d never asked him for anything, just stayed constant and steady in his life. Not a lot of things felt steady in his life - hadn’t since he’d lost his mom back when Jungkook was a baby. But you did. You were unwavering, just there when he needed calm, consistency, dependability. Seokjin usually leaned into the chaos of his life, of his siblings, of his sometimes noisy and goofy personality. But when he needed it - the quiet retreat - somehow he always pictured you. Like you were his quiet place.

You were standing there, waiting for something before he left this small town for bigger and better things, and he was stalling. 

What could he say to you as a goodbye?

Would don’t forget me make him seem too pathetic? God, yeah, it sounded like he was dying. He was a nineteen year old moving away to college, not the ghost of a murder victim whispering avenge me into the wind. For fuck’s sake.

Come visit? That was less dramatic - more direct. It said what he wanted… for you to stay in his life, stay in his universe. That was good, that would work. 

He was just working up the courage to say it when you seemed to give up on him, shifting your weight and asking, “See you at Christmas?”

Disgusted with himself, he’d nodded mutely. You’re an idiot, Seokjin, he thought, watching you disappear into his father’s house.

Another opportunity wasted. Another trip around the sun - without you - stuttering to a start. 

–

It was hard to be around you. Maybe that was pitiful but it was Seokjin’s truth. 

Still, every time he came home from university and saw you again, it always felt the same. It surprised him every time, caught him off-guard. It felt like getting slammed with damn, I’m happy to see you again, damn, I didn’t realize how much I’d missed you, damn, you look good these days. 

And that’s where it crashed to a halt. It was a dead-end, just like the one you both grew up on. He couldn’t go there. Minji would destroy his life if he got entangled with her best friend, he was sure of it. Plus, you were in different cities for college, living separate lives. Your future paths weren’t meant to intersect. It just didn’t make sense to start something that could just end up ruining things between everyone, including you and Minji’s friendship. 

So, at your parents’ Christmas Eve dinner his senior year, when he was twenty-one and you were nineteen, he stayed holed up in the living room with Jungkook, avoiding you entirely. He stood at the side of the room, bored and wishing he were home with a game instead of avoiding eye contact with all the real adults around him. He sent Jungkook into the kitchen to get him a beer, knowing if he went in there himself he’d stay. Nothing good could come of it.

He still found himself staring at you through the doorway as you sat next to his sister in the kitchen, your laugh bouncing out to him. He wanted so badly to join you, to be the one making you laugh as he had almost his whole life. 

You were a supernova, exploding before his eyes, but he couldn’t look away. When you’d looked up and caught him staring, he felt himself flush from head to toe. 

He had to stay away from you; it was the only way to stay sane. 

The next morning he’d woken early, dehydration toying with him, sending him scavenging to the kitchen in search of water, or something caffeinated. 

The universe laughed at him long and loud, and placed you in his kitchen, in thin, pink and grey pajamas that barely covered your ass, did nothing to hide your tits. You’d crossed your arms self-consciously, and Seokjin hurried to face the sink, filling the kettle as a distraction, so that you wouldn’t spot his semi.

He could feel your eyes on him, the air between you rife with tension, and he dreaded whatever it was you were going to say, or ask him - dreaded the moment he’d have to turn around to answer you to avoid looking rude. 

Instead, you spared him, vanishing back down the hallway as silently as you’d come. He’d heaved a sigh, running a palm down his hardening dick for relief, and headed for the bathroom. It was cold shower o’clock, apparently.

–

He graduated the following May, moved back home. Prepared resumes and cover letters and started sending them out by the dozens. Prayed someone, anyone, would hire him.

His dad threw him a graduation party, even though Seokjin told him over and over again that he didn’t want or need it. The house full of people - all there to see him, to ask him what his plans were when he had none - stressed him out. 

He’d stuck to Jungkook all day, his safety blanket. It shouldn’t be like that - Jungkook was the baby, and an introvert, too. But having Jungkook as a buffer helped Jin feel less looked at, helped keep his neck from flushing deep red all day long. And Jungkook was a good brother - he understood, without them even talking about it. He stayed close, talked to all the relatives cheerfully, bunny nose scrunching as he smiled. Not like Minji, terrible sister, who abandoned him to die with all the aunts and uncles and cousins, disappearing into the house.

Even with the Jungkook buffer, he could only take so much. By nine o’clock, as the sky darkened slowly, the blues leaking away and turning inkier, his social battery was shot. A lot of the attendees had said their goodbyes by then, and he felt like it was safe for him to slip away. 

He retreated to his own room, flopping onto his bed and pulling up a webtoon that had updated the day before. He’d been saving it for a time of need. Like now. 

He wasn’t sure how he got clued into your presence in the hallway - you hadn’t made any noise. But he’d spotted you, called your name. His heart raced with possibility when you tentatively stepped into the dark of his room.

When you asked - voice small, unsure - if you could join him, he’d gone stupid, hadn’t even been able to think of the word “yes”. He’d had to answer by moving over to make room for you, hoping you’d understand.

You laying next to him, even with the space between you, felt amazing. Seokjin scrolled the webtoon every time you said “okay,” but he didn’t read a word of it. All he could focus on was stopping the words from tumbling from his mouth, stopping himself from throwing his phone across the room and rolling to cover your body with his own. 

He kept it in check until he heard your breathing deepen. He glanced down to confirm - you’d fallen asleep. He clicked his phone screen off, his arms aching from holding it aloft for so long. Then he lay there, taking in the silence, watching your face as you dreamed. Ever so softly, he’d reached out a tentative finger and brushed it along your cheek. He had let himself touch you so few times, even in small, innocent ways. This felt like a rich indulgence, like the treat of all treats.

Smiling, chest feeling so full something might crack, he’d closed his eyes, eventually falling asleep by matching his breathing to yours, inhale to inhale, exhale to exhale. 

He woke up sometime before dawn, jumping in his sleep. Something had alarmed him, told his brain there was danger. It was still very dark in his room, the only light coming from under his door from the hallway. You’d turned away from him in your sleep, your feet resting lightly on his shins, your legs curled.

Seokjin smiled, reached to brush your hair away from your face. When you didn’t stir, he got comfortable again, rolling to face your back, gingerly reaching an arm over you and letting his hand rest on the mattress near your stomach. In your sleep, you pressed back against him, shuffling into his embrace, then stilling again. He fell back to sleep breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

When he woke up for real, long after sunrise, you were gone, his bed empty. He checked his phone almost frantically, but you hadn’t texted. 

He spent all day agonizing over it - should he reach out? Did he need to apologize? Were you freaking out, did you need him to tell you to breathe, that it was okay? But in the end, he said nothing, afraid anything he sent would just make things worse.

–

Jin spent the eve of his twenty-third birthday at a bar. You and Minji (and Jungkook, that year) were away at school for a few more weeks before winter break would begin. It was loud and crowded, the walls adorned with street signs and sardonic posters, neon beer signs, a few backlit clocks that all read different times. He threw back shots, paid for none of them as the birthday boy, surrounded by friends from college and home. 

His phone buzzed at midnight on the dot, as the friends around him cheered and pounded him on the back. When he saw your name on his screen, everyone around him fell away, like they didn’t even exist. Ignored everyone around him, sat and blatantly texted you back, unashamed to be neglecting his own celebration.

Getting baja blasted with your sister, you’d sent him, and he had laughed out loud at the bar, pressing fingers to his eyes as if he could erase the mental picture, shoulders still shaking. 

“What’s wrong?” someone asked him, peering over his shoulder.

“Yah,” he’d said, still laughing. “Baja blasted, is that what the kids are calling it these days? Am I that old, already, one minute into my twenty-third year?”

They’d laughed, reading the text, ribbing him about Minji’s delinquent college behavior. One of his friends, a girl with shoulder-length dark red hair, had sent him a sideways look. “This girl is texting you at midnight for your birthday, huh?” she’d asked, lips pursing with amusement. “You know what that means.”

“What does that mean?” Jin echoed, turning to face her, and her smile had grown, a gotcha. 

“The only time I’ve ever done that in my life,” she told him, “is for my best friend, or for my boyfriends.”

They’d teased him about his red ears for the next hour and a half.

–

Back to avoiding, back to trying to bury it deep down. Back to failing miserably.

You and Minji lounged in the backyard, your conversation floating in low murmurs up through the open windows as Seokjin sat at the kitchen table, scrolling on his phone. 

He heard only snippets - I broke up with that guy, I just wasn’t feeling it. 

Immediately interested, he rose, drifting towards the open kitchen window, ears perked.

“No one sticks,” Minji said. “I worry about you.”

“None of them were right,” you told her. “Someone will be.”

“How will you know when it’s right?”

And then the door slammed open, causing Seokjin to jump in his skin.

You’d been pissed, eyes narrowed, voice tight as you accused him of listening in. But Seokjin could only think about what he’d heard, how he’d wondered the same thing over these years. 

Time to stop chickening out. “How come no one sticks?” he asked. 

“What?” 

He spoke slowly, deliberately. “Why haven’t any of the guys you’ve dated lasted?”

He needed to know. He needed to know - what was the reason? Were you both wasting time, revolving idly in place? Could it be possible that you, like him, hadn’t been willing to give someone else a chance if it meant jeopardizing this, even if “this” was practically nothing?

“What am I supposed to say to that? Jin, what do I say to that?” You’d looked absolutely shattered, and he couldn’t help but step closer, reach for your hand. It was cool in his, and he felt like he was holding something fragile - like his touch could cause it to crumble into dust if he wasn’t gentle enough. 

Say you want me, he wanted to say. 

Maybe you would have.

But Minji - terrible sister - had ruined his life, coming through the kitchen door, already talking at the top of her lungs. Jin had made his escape as soon as he could, vanishing down the hallway towards his room.

He moved out - far away, an airplane ride away to a new skyline and a new job - six months later.

–

Twenty-six hadn’t started great for Seokjin. Normally he was a fan of having his birthday in December, during the start of the Christmas season. When he was a kid, it had felt like all the lights and decorations were a bit for him. But since moving to his new city three years prior, working his new job, the holidays were more of a hassle. Amazing how airports can ruin a good thing.

Case in point - his flight got delayed because of a snowstorm. Only by two hours, and he didn’t have to make a connection, so all things considered it wasn’t the end of the world. But he did miss Christmas Eve dinner at your parents’ house.

He’d called Minji from the airport after he landed, as he waited at baggage claim. 

“Come anyway,” she’d begged him. “We never see you. Y/N’s parents have asked about you a hundred and fifty times.”

In retrospect, it might have been nice if Minji had mentioned that you had a boyfriend with you. Just as a little heads up. But Minji was a terrible sister. Or maybe the problem was that she had no idea Seokjin would even care. 

Either way, it had ended like this.

His taxi had pulled up outside his dad’s house. He’d dragged his suitcase up the walk and through the front door, leaving it unceremoniously next to the couch to wait for him. He’d checked his hair in the decorative mirror near the front door and slipped back outside, heading to the brightly lit house across the street.

He’d shaken his hands as he walked, trying to get the nerves to fly from his fingers. It’s like they knew you were close. 

He’d let himself into your parents’ house, instrumental Christmas music and loud conversations hitting him the second the door opened an inch.

Minji had cried, “Jinnie!” and he’d looked up from taking his boots off. His eyes had found you immediately, near the side of the crowded room. You were leaning comfortably against a man. 

A man. A man who took one look at Seokjin, then down at your face, and then reached an arm around your waist. He pulled you in, making you hop a little as you were pulled off-balance.

Seokjin’s stomach had twisted, and he’d felt almost like he would be sick, like he was suddenly hungover without drinking a drop.

He’d had to pull it together. He’d stepped inside, accepting Minji’s enthusiastic hug. Terrible sister, trying to hug him when he was having a meltdown. He’d given you a quick one-arm almost-hug, fingers hovering over your shoulder, not even daring to touch you. He’d smiled wide when you’d introduced “my boyfriend, Daniel”, shook the guy’s hand and tried not to squeeze it too aggressively. 

Boyfriend. He really did want to throw up. When he’d asked you why no one stuck, he hadn’t thought you’d take it as a dare. 

He’d extracted himself from the group and went to find his dad and your parents, to say hello. Then he’d hidden with Jungkook for the rest of the night. History repeats itself, and all that. 

It was a little funny, in hindsight. He’d been nearly sick over the boyfriend. But he’d met Chelsea less than two months later. 

–

He’d met Chelsea at work when he was twenty-six. She was contracted by the company for a job, short-term - not a coworker. She was pretty, competent. Seokjin had felt weird, for a second, when he caught himself watching her walk away from his desk one morning, her ponytail swinging behind her. But then he’d pictured Daniel’s arm around your waist at Christmas. 

What are you doing? he’d asked himself. All the years he’d spent just outside your reach seemed to hover before him like a planetary alignment. Where had it gotten either of you? Maybe you were the smarter one, the braver one. He was thinking of the time he’d asked why none of your boyfriends lasted - but at least you were out there trying. He couldn’t really say the same thing. He’d had his fun through college, certainly. But he’d known every time that his heart wasn’t in it.

Maybe it was time to try.

He’d caught her in the break room on her last day of the project. She’d blushed when he asked her out, her smile more surprised than anything else. Their first date had gone well. Their third date had gone even better. 

He didn’t go home that summer. Things with Chelsea fell into place - pieces clicking together the way they were supposed to in adult relationships. They’d agreed to start being exclusive. She’d called him her boyfriend on the phone with her best friend Lara, lounging on his couch one afternoon, and he’d looked up from the game he was playing, fingers frozen on the controls, eyes wide. 

After she’d hung up, she’d asked, “Was that not okay? We’ve been exclusive for months, it just… felt kind of natural.”

“No,” he’d assured her, reaching out and placing a hand on her knee. She’d covered it with her own, looking at him through her lashes, waiting for his answer. “It was okay. I was just surprised.”

She’d moved in before the leaves started to turn, half of his closet suddenly full of blouses and skirts, oat milk in his fridge where there used to be beer bottles, tampon boxes under his sink where there used to be cleaning supplies. 

Warm smiles when he’d make a stupid pun. Slender fingers in his during evening walks. Breathy whispers when they were tangled together in the dark.

Demands of “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” after long meetings at work. Silence from the other side of the couch over a slight he couldn’t even name. The scratchy material of the couch cushions after a night ejected from his own bed. 

The leaves turned. Fell. Blew away.

Soft murmurs of concern when he’d tell about a bad day. Bursting into laughter after saying the same thing at the same time, following it with, “We’re turning into each other.” Coming home to find his favorite snacks in the cabinets, his laundry folded on the end of the bed. 

A hollow feeling in the pit of Seokjin’s stomach the first time she whispered, “I think I’m in love with you.”

The taste of battery acid on his tongue when he lied to her face and told her he was, too.

They broke up three days before Christmas. It was too late to get a flight.

Seokjin spent the holidays alone.

Twenty-seven sucked worse than twenty-six.

She showed up three weeks into January, peering up at him through red-rimmed eyes. “Do you th-think…” she’d asked, voice wavering, after pouring out apology after apology, “maybe we could try again?”

Maybe I can love her, he’d thought. He’d hoped. 

They broke up again before the end of February. Got back together in April after Seokjin called her, drunk and lonely. Broke up again in July after she smashed one of his favorite coffee mugs on the kitchen floor and screamed at him that he was a liar. Made up in September and somehow managed to hang on through the fall. 

The night of Seokjin’s twenty-eighth birthday, he couldn’t sleep. He had lain there, awake in the dark, listening to her breathing beside him, slow and even. 

He’d reached out and smoothed her hair down, run a hand down her arm. She’d wiggled into his touch, her breathing taking a moment to even out again.

Feel something, he’d begged himself, suddenly on the verge of frustrated, furious tears. Feel something for her. Why couldn’t he? What was wrong with him? Was he broken, doomed? Was this all he’d get out of life - this push and pull of ocean tides, sometimes drowning and other times left to cook in the sun? Her need for his love like a black hole, pulling and pulling, taking and taking?

“I think we should take a break,” he’d told her in the morning, before his alarm even went off. “I think I need some time to figure things out.”

“Figure out what?” she’d asked, tears already rolling down her cheeks. “I thought we were fine, Seokjin. I thought this time we were fine.”

“Let’s talk after the holidays,” he’d suggested. “I’ll go spend some time with my dad and my siblings… let’s see how we feel.”

“See how we feel?” she’d echoed hollowly. “I know how I feel. You’re the giant question mark here.”

It had felt less like a slap and more like a fact. Seokjin couldn’t even fault her for it when it was so true. 

So, at twenty-eight, he’d gone home for Christmas, alone, on a “break”. 

When you showed up on New Year’s Eve, it felt like you were sent specifically to torture him. To test him.

And he had really, spectacularly flunked the test. 

But seeing you again, for the first time in two years, had given him every right answer. You’d stood next to Minji, helping her slice lemons, and Seokjin had sat at the kitchen table nursing a beer and listening to you two rib each other. He’d felt it - peace, calm, his quiet place. That happiness that rose up in him every time you returned to his life, or he returned to yours. That overwhelming something that had always been there, hovering in the background, whenever he was around you. The desire to make you laugh, to find little ways to touch you, the need to feel your eyes on him now. 

It was overwhelming. It was too much. It was too many feelings, all at once.

He’d never felt this for Chelsea. Not even a fraction of it. But he’d felt like this about you his whole life and had never had something to hold up next to it for comparison. 

He loved you. That was the answer. 

He’d tried to keep his distance anyway that night - for all the old reasons. Minji. Different lives in different cities. His uncertainty about how you felt.

And Chelsea, blowing up his phone in real time, asking him when he was flying home and if she could see him right away when he did.

He left her on read. He followed you out on the back deck. He’d called you beautiful and watched the last pane of glass keeping you from him shatter into pieces and fall to the ground, leaving his feet bloody and his heart singing as he finally, finally got to hold you in his arms the right way, as he’d finally, finally gotten to press his mouth to yours, taste you, feel you, have you. 

Everything was beyond his wildest fantasies - and he’d imagined this plenty over the last seven years. Every bit of skin he got to slide his fingers over, every sigh and gasp you made against his mouth, the feel of your slick heat wrapped around his fingers, the feel of your spasming cunt milking every last drop from him. The look in your eyes as he set you down again, made sure your legs were steady - like he’d hung the moon for you.

Guilt and nausea rocked through him. Sure, they were on a break, but Chelsea was waiting for an answer from him, was at that exact moment trying to talk to him about their relationship. His phone burned a hole in his pocket as it buzzed incessantly against his still-quivering thigh. He should have waited - he should have handled his shit first. You deserved better. 

You deserved better than every part of this.

Outside, hurried, in the freezing cold, against the side of his house? That was wrong. You should have had a first time together where he could take his time, worship every part of you, relax and communicate about what you like. 

And in secret? Minji was still inside, a problem unsolved. If this was starting, if Seokjin was getting his chance with you, then he needed to deal with that problem first. Minji needed to be set straight. And, at the same time, she deserved to find out the right way, too. 

And… what did you want? He should have talked to you, he should have told you he liked you before sleeping with you, he should have asked what you wanted this to be before either of you could get their feelings twisted.

He’d fucked this up. He’d done it all wrong. You deserved so much better than whatever childish bullshit this situation was. He needed to deal with Chelsea. He needed to tell Minji that his business was his business. He needed to talk to you about your feelings.

But one problem at a time. Starting right then.

“You probably shouldn’t come in right after me,” he’d told you, and hurried away, already fishing his phone from his pocket. Inside, he’d slipped into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He’d dialed Chelsea’s number before the latch even clicked.

“Jin?” she’d answered, sounding tearful already. He felt that squeeze of guilt again - she’d been home, crying, wanting to work it out with him. And he’d been buried in you. What kind of asshole does that? “Where are you?”

“My dad’s house, like I said I’d be,” he’d said, more coldly than he’d meant. He took a breath, pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t her fault - none of it was. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t love her, it wasn’t her fault she wasn’t you, it wasn’t her fault he’d been too hasty and messed things up with you. “Listen. I know we said we’d talk when I came home but… a few days isn’t going to make the difference. I’m done, Chels. I’m sorry. I’m done for real, this time.”

Her silence stretched so long that Seokjin pulled the phone away from his face to check the screen, to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. 

Finally, after a shuddering breath, she’d managed, “But why?”

Seokjin had pressed his cool knuckles to his burning forehead and closed his eyes. “Because. If I was going to love you, I’d know by now. I know how it should feel and it just… doesn’t. It just doesn’t.”

When he’d returned to the party, he’d scanned the rooms at a clip, eyes roving the crowd for your familiar form. He passed through the kitchen, the living room, even tried Minji’s room and the basement. You were nowhere to be found. 

He typed over a dozen texts to you - where did you go, are you okay, come talk to me, did you leave, i have something i need to tell you. He deleted all of them. His thumb hovered over your picture in his contacts, as he tried to imagine what he’d say if you actually answered. 

In the end, he fell asleep at the kitchen table, his phone in his hand. He woke up late, hungover, unprepared for his flight. He’d barely made it - Mr. Kim had sped the whole way to the airport, and they’d been calling his name over the loudspeaker when Seokjin jogged up to his gate. 

He checked his phone desperately when the plane landed, hoping to see your name on his screen. 

No luck. 

Eventually, enough time passed that Seokjin felt… well, stupid even bringing it up. If you’d wanted to talk about it, you could have, right? It must have been just a hook-up to you, just a bit of fun at a party. 

Seokjin lied to himself, told himself it didn’t matter, told himself he didn’t care. He spent the night of a full moon boxing up Chelsea’s shit and sent it in the mail.

–

It’s something Seokjin tries hard to hide about himself. He laughs loud, makes dumb jokes, wrestles Jungkook in public, tries to control the narrative. Tries to keep anyone from looking too closely. 

He doesn’t want them to know he’s so afraid, that his fear is often the boss of him. 

It’s fear that kept him from calling you after that night, fear that kept him from reaching out when he was twenty-one and you fell asleep in his bed, fear that kept him from telling you the truth when he was eighteen and graduating high school.

He’d sat at the end of his dad’s driveway in the dark, his party carrying on inside without him, wishing he could run - from his future, from his life stretching out ahead of him like a thin path through a sea of fog. He wanted to hit pause, wanted to stay here, wanted everything to stay just the same. He wanted to wake up in his father’s house, bicker with Minji and Jungkook over meals, hear the familiar sound of your voice calling hello from the front door. 

Instead, he was about to walk away from all of that. 

“Are you scared?” you’d asked him, appearing out of the dark like a damn apparition. 

Seokjin had laughed to hide how very dead-on you were. “Me?” he asked, as if it were ridiculous. As if he weren’t always scared, but doing what he was supposed to do in spite of it. “Never.”

And you had smiled at him indulgently, like you knew better. “About what? What’s the biggest thing?”

Losing you.

Losing you.

Losing you.

He doesn’t even know what bullshit answer he gave you. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the truth.

Seokjin stands in the middle of the street watching your tail lights disappear, cast in red and shadows and regret.

All that… it doesn’t matter now…

It didn’t mean anything…

I never got to tell you to your face that you’re an asshole…

You were out of your head… to make a mistake like me…

I can’t do this again… I think it’ll kill me if I do…

He doesn’t even bother to tell his family he’s going somewhere. He gets into his car, the stereo blaring to life as it connects to his phone, then takes off across town. 

Towards the swanky apartments.

–

Your phone rings, and rings, and rings, and rings. 

You know you could just turn it off - a normal person would just turn it off. 

You’re home again, on your couch with a blanket wrapped around you, lights down low, feeling sorry for yourself. Your phone screen lights up on the coffee table before you, then goes dark as the call goes to voicemail. 

Then it lights up again, rattling as it vibrates. Goes dark. Lights up again.

You snap on the ninth call.

“Oh my God, what?” you demand. “I don’t want to talk to you!”

“Which one’s yours?” Jin asks, his voice small against your ear. 

“What?”

“Which apartment’s yours?”

“Fuck off, Seokjin,” you tell him firmly. “I said I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I’ll start ringing doorbells,” he threatens. “I have a lot of time to spare.”

You fall silent, considering this. He would ring every doorbell in the whole damn complex if it helped him win. 

“How’d you even know where to go?” you ask instead. 

“You told me it was the one we used to trick-or-treat at,” he explains. 

This deflates you a little bit. With a sigh, you tell him your apartment number.

“See you in a minute,” he tells you, and hangs up.

“But I don’t want to talk to you,” you whisper, defeated, at no one. It’s only moments later that he pounds on your door. Resigned, you shuffle to the door, the blanket still wrapped around you like armor. 

“What do you want, Seokjin?” you ask flatly. “I told you, I can’t do this.”

“Define this,” he says, and there’s something gentle in the request. 

“Make the same mistakes over and over,” you clarify. “Get nowhere. Gain nothing. Hurt.”

“You keep saying mistake,” he murmurs. He lifts his eyes to meet yours, and you take a step away when they do, knocked physically backwards by how broken he looks. “Can we talk?” he asks. “Can I come in?”

You purse your lips but step aside, letting him inside, letting the door close behind him. “We can talk,” you allow, mostly because he’d looked so devastated, and you feel guilty about it. “But you’d better keep your hands to yourself.”

You settle back down on the couch, and Jin perches at the edge of a wingback chair on the opposite side. 

You look at each other silently for a minute. Then, you grumble, “You can get more comfortable than that.”

He scoots back less than an inch, looking at you expectantly.

“What?” You snap - again. You’re so on edge you think you might shatter. “You wanted to talk, so what are you looking at me for? Talk!”

He looks at his hands, then back at you. “I apologized without explaining,” he says slowly. “But I think you really need both.”

“You explained plenty,” you say, biting the words off before they can hurt you. “You were in a bad place -.”

“I didn’t mean that,” he cuts you off firmly. “What I meant is - I mean - that wasn’t the right way to say it. I didn’t mean… I wasn’t saying my head wasn’t in the right place. I wasn’t trying to imply that I was… fucked up, or upset, or anything like that. I made the choices I made with you that night because I wanted to, and I don’t regret them.”

You look at him, frozen. You feel too frozen to even breathe. “...Then?”

“It’s killing me,” he says, and has to stop and clear his throat as his voice breaks. He heaves a heavy breath and tries again. You wait him out, heart thudding, palms sweating. “It’s killing me to hear you keep calling it a mistake. Because it wasn’t, to me.”

All you can do is stare. You feel like you understand nothing. 

“But,” you try. “What? You never - we didn’t talk, after? After - after - you just left, you disappeared and left me outside in the dark, alone.” 

You didn’t mean the words to come out like an accusation, but they hit Seokjin like a slap. You watch him actually recoil, grimacing like he feels the sting across his cheek. 

You watch as a cloud of shame settles over his features. 

“I know I messed it up,” he admits. “I knew it that night. I should have talked to you first. But I… at the time, I felt like I had… loose ends that I needed to tie up first.”

Your eyes narrow, suspicious. “Loose ends like what?”

His eyes drop to the floor and he whispers, “I had to break up with my ex-girlfriend.”

“Kim Seokjin!” you exclaim in horror, a hand coming to cover your mouth. “Did you cheat on somebody with me?” 

“No, no!” he says quickly, hands coming up defensively. “I promise, it wasn’t like that. My ex and I… we had agreed to take a break before I came home that Christmas. But I still felt like… I felt like I did something really wrong. And then I didn’t want to talk to you about it - about what’s next or anything - until I’d told her that I was out… really out.”

“I don’t understand,” you tell him. Your head is spinning, trying desperately to make sense of what he’s telling you. 

Seokjin sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “I shouldn’t have just walked away from you,” he says, and there’s something almost pleading in his voice - just barely. “I thought I could go deal with her and then talk to you - but you were gone.”

“You could have called. You could have texted. You could have walked the twenty feet across the fucking street, Seokjin -.”

“I know!” he bursts out, leaning forward, his eyes on your face, desperate. “I know I should have! I was just - I wasn’t thinking straight, I was spiraling -.”

“Sure,” you interrupt flatly. “Toeing the line with infidelity will do that to a person -.”

“It wasn’t from that,” he snaps. He stands, walks to your balcony door, seems to stare down his own reflection. His ears are red - frustration, this time. 

When he turns around, he’s calmer again. “It wasn’t because of that,” he repeats more quietly. “It was because you walked into my dad’s house that night and I was suddenly face-to-face with the fact that for the first time in my life, I had a name for what I feel for you.”

Silence crashes between you. You find yourself also standing, the blanket you were wrapped in falling half on the couch and half on the floor. You stare at him wildly, hands shaking at your sides. It takes everything in you to not just utter, “Huh?”

Instead, you whisper, “I think I need you to explain.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation, stalks closer to you, looms over you. “I love you,” he says plainly, and the room swings around you. “I think I always have - but I didn’t know until that night. And I didn’t want to tell you until I’d dealt with her.

“I know I messed everything up that night,” he says, eyebrows furrowed, “and I’m sorry.”

“Seokjin,” you manage, the word coming out like a gasp. “You what?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

You shake your head vehemently. “Before that.”

He steps closer, close enough to step on the blanket you’d dropped, close enough that you can feel his warmth, close enough that you could touch him if you were stupid enough to -

“I love you,” he murmurs, hovering ever closer. The words sound musical dripping from his mouth.

“How did you not know until then?” you whisper, looking up at him. “I knew when I was sixteen.”

He lets out a breath like a laugh. Your hand hesitates somewhere near his stomach. “I’m an idiot,” he explains. Then, voice deepening, he asks, “Do I still have to keep my hands to myself?”

“You’d better not,” you manage to say, and then you can’t say anything because he’s kissing you firmly, one hand on your face and the other pressing you closer by the small of your back. 

It feels different to kiss him now than the first two times. The first time, two years ago, had been desperate, fast and frantic from the onset. Tonight, an hour ago, it had been laced with regret. This time feels somehow freeing. It feels like flying. 

You loop your arms around his neck and try to lift yourself closer, pressing your body against his. He runs a hand down the back of your head, skims it down your spine, grips you by the waist and pulls you in tight with a deep but barely audible grunt. 

You bring your hands to cup his face, pulling away from the heated kiss. “You don’t have a sort-of girlfriend I should know about this time, right?”

He huffs a laugh, nose bumping yours as he tries to get your mouth back. “Shut up,” he laughs, starting to walk you backwards towards your open bedroom door, his clever fingers finding the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head as you walk. You do the same, tugging his t-shirt free and tossing it on your bedroom floor. 

He drinks in the sight of you, eyes burning paths along every newly bared inch of skin. His hands skim up your stomach, glide over your ribs, caress your shoulders, before finding the clasp of your bra. His eyes find yours, silently asking.

You give him a nod, your own hands tracing the lightly defined muscles along his stomach, making him shiver. He pinches the clasp, guides the straps down your goosebump covered arms, looks at you with nothing less than wonder. Then, gently, he covers your tits with both large hands, thumbs stroking the soft skin they find before moving to lightly roll each nipple once. 

You close your eyes and keen a little, just a tiny noise, and let him explore you. You hadn’t taken off your top last time - it had been so quick, desperate. 

But thinking about last time has you needy as you remember just how fucking good Jin’s cock had felt, how perfect the stretch was, how every drag of him made your eyes roll back. You kiss him again, feverish, as he continues to toy with you. A tiny part of you thrills at the forbidden aspect of this - this is Jin with his hand on your tit, Jin tugging you closer by your waistband, Jin pressing himself hot and hard against your leggings, Jin groaning into your mouth when you pop the button on his jeans and slip your hand into his boxers, stroking him to full length. You hadn’t touched him, last time – not like this. He’s hot and heavy and thick, velvet soft against your palm as you work him base to tip again and again, delighting in the low grunts and catches in his breath your fingers elicit.

You finally whine, throbbing and tingling and desperate for more, and he laughs against your neck and hooks his thumbs under your waistband and peels off your leggings, using the opportunity to back you up until you’re sitting on your bed with a bounce. He lets his own jeans drop to the floor and crawls over you; your hands come to his jaw as he kisses you ferociously, like he can’t think of anything else - not food, not water, not air - just your mouth.

Then he moves his mouth to your neck, sucking lightly and then soothing over the spots with gentle kisses. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he whispers. “It feels kind of surreal.”

“What about -,” you breathe.

“Last time doesn’t count,” he growls, and slides his hand over your mound, fingers skimming over your clothed clit and pressing your panties against your opening. You squirm against him, trying to increase the pressure, wanting him inside more than you want anything.

“Please,” you murmur. 

“Please what?” he asks, pushing himself up to look down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Need more,” you gasp, still pushing back against his fingers. Even over your panties, they slide along your slickness. “Need to feel you.”

All his breath leaves him in a rush when you say this, and you lift up a little to help him slide your panties down your legs. You try to reach for him, fingers glancing along the fabric of his boxers, but your brain loses all sense of purpose as Seokjin sinks two fingers into you, pumping them casually a few times before crooking them and rubbing them firmly against your front wall. 

The sound you make comes from deep within you, a low groan echoing around you as your eyes flutter closed. 

He’s lying alongside you and you bury your face in his chest as he works you open. Sounds fall from your mouth, sharp and desperate, as the pressure in your lower belly tightens and tightens, as sparks flash behind your eyelids, as your toes curl and feet press into the mattress frantically. You can feel him pressing insistently against your leg as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, and it’s this fact that sends you spiraling, uttering his name through gritted teeth as every muscle goes impossibly tight. 

He kisses you sweetly as you come down from it, slowly pulling his fingers from you and reaching around to grab a handful of your ass as the kiss naturally deepens, as he falls into it, head first. 

You’re still half floating when he removes himself, and you hear the shuffle of fabric as he digs through his pants, and then a telltale thump as he tosses his wallet back into the clothing pile. He returns, kisses you again, tweaking a nipple and eliciting a whine from you. 

“You good?” he breathes, lips barely centimeters from yours. 

“‘M good,” you manage, gripping his forearms in preparation for the stretch, for the burn, for the deluge of sensation. 

He pushes into you slowly, sheathing himself completely with a deep groan from within his chest. 

“You feel so good,” he tells you, punctuating this with a quick nip on your jaw, before starting to roll his hips. You moan once, loud, head flopping back as his cock drags against your already-sensitive, still-fluttering walls. 

Everything’s different this time. It feels like leisure, it feels like luxury - to get to reach up and kiss him, his lips firm and grounding as the slide of him sends you floating. Luxury, to get to run your hands along the bare skin of his arms, shoulders, and back. Luxury to dig your nails in just a little bit when his angle shifts, to hear his breathing hitch when you do. Luxury to lean back and meet his eyes, burning on yours, fire and love and happiness and passion swimming in them, beneath his furrowed brow, knit in concentration.

You feel so full of him, it’s like he’s touching everywhere, all of you all at once. He brushes a hand down the side of your face, so gently, then slides it under your ass to adjust the angle again. 

“Fuck, oh my god,” you utter, shifting to take him even deeper. “What the fuck.” 

“Good,” he whispers, slowing his pace and pushing into you purposefully, pausing each time he’s buried as far as he can be, feeling you clench around him before dragging out again, steady.

You’re temple to temple, his breath huffs and gasps near your ear. You cling to him tightly, white-knuckled as you try to take everything he gives you. You groan in mingled unison when he speeds up again, pushing himself up onto his knees and grabbing your waist as leverage, pulling you to meet every thrust. 

“Oh -,” you gasp, surprised by the intensity, surprised by how quickly you can feel yourself unraveling a second time, “- god, Jin, fuck, holy shit -.”

“That’s right,” he coaxes, voice deep and honeyed, an entirely new sound to him. “Tell me. What is it, beautiful?”

“I - I can’t,” you gasp, eyes screwing shut, fingers gripping the blanket beneath you so hard that an absent part of your brain worries it’ll tear. “I’m gonna come again - Jin -.”

“Yes you can,” he soothes, and his thumb suddenly on your clit almost has you shooting off the bed, a scream caught in your throat. “Give me another one.”

The pressure is blinding, your muscles so tight that you know you’ll be sore, and though you can’t see anything but bursts of color through your tightly closed eyes, you can hear Seokjin swear fiercely before a low, wordless moan is tugged from him as he tries to hold on through your orgasm. 

As you blink your way back to reality, Jin lowers his forehead to yours and doubles his pace, hips slapping your ass, uttering sounds that are increasingly desperate and broken - half-formed syllables of your name, something that might be please, ragged groans that cut off mid-way as gasps, only to begin again on his exhale. His arms cage you in and you feel yourself floating higher with him surrounding you, keeping everything else at bay.

His arms tighten around you when he comes, breathing out a loud, strangled, “ahhhhh -” as he empties himself inside you, his fingers twitching and pace faltering. He slows, his heart hammering inches from yours, then flops next to you, breathing heavily. He pats your thigh fondly, as if to say, good work, then scans the room. Finding what he was looking for - a small wastebasket under your desk - he staggers over to handle the condom before dropping heavily next to you again, eyes closed as he catches his breath.

“Seokjin,” you murmur, fingers finding his and lacing them together. “Don’t leave again. Okay? Don’t leave me, now.”

He rolls to face you, his hand coming to tug you closer, into his embrace.

“Never,” he promises, lips against your hair, his arms around your back, his heart racing yours towards a finish line neither of you can clearly see. “I swear. Never again.”

–

He does leave, a few hours later, apologizing over and over again. 

“Dad’s doing pretty well during the day now,” he explains as he gets dressed gingerly. “But at night he has trouble - after sleeping he gets stiff and has trouble getting up without some help. Or, his ice bag melts and he can’t get downstairs to change it out. I texted him that I’d be back, but that was hours ago.”

“Go,” you tell him. “I understand.” 

You do - of course you do. But it doesn’t stop you from being a little nervous when he slips out your front door, leaving you alone in the silence of your apartment. You’re too hyped up to sleep. You strip the bed, throwing the sheets in a hamper and putting on new ones, and go to shower. When you emerge, warm and finally sleepy, you get into bed and turn off your lamp, grabbing your phone to scroll until your eyes are heavy. 

[12:14 AM] Jin 😎: home. dad’s fine. let’s talk tmrw?

You smile, typing an answer, illuminated by your phone screen.

[12:36 AM] You: glad to hear it. yeah, sounds good

You’re not sure how to leave it. Would a heart be too much? He’d said he loved you… but what is this now? Where do you go from here? What are the boundaries, what are the rules?

You fall asleep without answers. 

In the morning, your alarm ringing feels like your own personal torture in hell. You’re sore from head to toe, like you knew you would be. You take a longer, hotter shower than normal, hoping the hot water will soothe your aching muscles. It helps, but only a little. 

You’re absent-minded at work all morning, messing up multiple times and yawning so loudly that Dale actually asks you if you want him to go grab you some coffee from the break room. 

“No,” you say sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well.” 

Salvation comes in the form of a text message, about an hour before your lunch break.

[11:27 AM] Jin 😎: good morningggg [11:27 AM] You: i mean, barely [11:27 AM] You: it’s almost noon, sir [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: excuse you [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: some of us need our beauty sleep

You laugh out loud, Dale shooting you another look over his shoulder. 

[11:28 AM] Jin 😎: come over tonight [11:29 AM] Jin 😎: i want to cook you dinner [11:29 AM] Jin 😎: my dad will be up but we can be normal… he’ll go to bed by 9 anyway [11:29 AM] You: my parents will see my car outside [11:30 AM] Jin 😎: i’ll come get you then. be there at 6?

You agree, and manage to actually do a few productive things with your afternoon, now that there’s a solid plan for later, now that you aren’t wondering if Seokjin will manage to vanish from your life for another two years.

You feel guilty for worrying about it, but you can’t help yourself. You’d meant what you’d told him last night, at your car, before he’d come to your place. Having him and losing him the first time had been earth-shattering. You couldn’t do it twice.

–

Jin picks you up right when he said he would, his car idling outside your building right at six o’clock. You slide into the passenger seat and he pulls away, music playing low through the car’s speaker system. 

“How was your day?” he asks, glancing over at you. 

“Couldn’t focus for shit,” you admit. “I think I pissed off my teammate.”

He chuckles. “Tomorrow’s a chance to do better.”

“Don’t distract me so much tomorrow, then.”

He grins at you, obviously not sorry in the slightest. “I distracted you? We barely talked.”

You purse your lips at him playfully. “I had a lot on my mind, and all of it’s your fault.” You say it teasingly, but he goes serious. 

“Let’s talk tonight,” he suggests. “After my dad goes to bed.” He reaches out, smoothes a hand down your leg, leaves it resting on your knee. 

“That’s probably a good idea,” you murmur, your eyes on his hand. You’re wondering how just that - just his hand resting on your knee - can cause goosebumps to rise up and down your arms. 

When Seokjin leads you into the house, Mr. Kim is awake, watching television in the living room. He seems surprised to see you, but greets you warmly.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” he asks, more polite than what are you doing here, which is probably what he wants to ask. 

“Minji’s busy tonight and I needed a hand with dinner and everything,” Seokjin lies easily, slipping his shoes off. “Y/N’s doing me a huge favor. Are you good, Dad? Do you need anything?”

“New ice pack,” you answer for him, eyeing the bag of mostly water that rests on Mr. Kim’s propped-up knee. “Can I help with that?”

You change out the ice pack and rejoin Seokjin in the kitchen, where he has something simmering on the stovetop and is busy chopping something else. You sit at the table, nursing the beer he offered you, watching him work. You chat casually with him - discussing what shows you’ve been watching, gossiping about Minji’s last boyfriend, getting updates on what Jungkook is up to out west. When the meal is ready you both eat in the living room with Mr. Kim, where he peppers you with questions about your job (it’s boring), how your parents are (same ol’, same ol’), if you’re keeping Minji in line (as if anyone could). 

Seokjin turns out to be right - Mr. Kim requests to go upstairs to bed before nine. Seokjin helps him up the stairs, gets him settled, and returns downstairs to find you up to your elbows in suds at the kitchen sink.

“I was going to do that,” he scolds.

You shrug. “No reason I can’t help. Dinner was delicious, by the way. I forgot how well you cook.”

“How could you forget?” he protests, moving to the fridge to get himself a beer. “I take offense to that.”

“Don’t go so long without cooking for me next time, then,” you counter playfully, wiping your hands down with a dish towel and moving to sit across the table from him.

“Live closer to my city, then,” he gives it right back.

“No, no, no,” you shake your head firmly. “You moved far. You don’t get to put that on me.”

He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. You’re tempted to crawl onto his lap and you have to squash the urge down. You’re here to talk, not to kiss.

You settle into quiet as you consider this, consider all the fears and misgivings you’d been plagued with last night and all morning. 

Seokjin reaches under the table with his leg and gently kicks at your knee. “Talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what’s happening up there.” He points with the top of his beer bottle in the general direction of your head. 

It makes you smile, in spite of everything.

You consider, for a second, playing it off. But you and Seokjin have circled each other for damn near a decade. Isn’t it time for some honesty? When will you ever have an open invitation like this again?

“I’m scared this is just going to be like before,” you admit. “Even if you don’t - I mean… even if you do everything right, the truth is you still have to get on a plane in less than two weeks. I just don’t see an ending here that isn’t you leaving me behind again.”

Jin lets out a long breath, his eyes on the table. “I should have asked you this a long time ago,” he says slowly, raising his eyes to meet your gaze again. “But… what do you want?”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. You’ve never in your life, not even in your head, put words to it before. The want, the wish, it’s too much to ask for. It’s the thing you’ve spun around for your whole life, the thing whose gravitational pull keeps you in orbit, and it’s too much to look at directly. 

He nudges you with his foot beneath the table again, gently. You look at your beer, condensation gathering around your fingers on the glass. He says your name softly. 

“If you can’t tell me,” he points out, “then we’re really stalled out. And I don’t think that’s what either of us wants.”

It’s the encouragement you need. 

“I want to be with you,” you whisper, still unable to look at him. “But I know that’s not…” Not possible. “I mean, you live so far, we both have jobs…”

He leans forward, reaching out and peeling your hand away from your glass bottle, holding your fingers tenderly. He says your name, waits until you finally look up at him. 

“I’m willing to try and figure it out,” he says seriously, and you feel something inside your ribs crack and shift. Hope that you’d kept caged for your entire adult life springs to life, starts throwing itself bodily against its confines, the cracks beginning to splinter, an escape imminent. 

He is? He wants that? What would that even look like? Would you be long distance? Would one of you have to move? What about Minji?

He says your name again, and you snap your eyes back up. “Let’s just…” he starts, then sighs. “I’m here for another ten days. Let’s make the most of them and see what we think closer to the end.”

It feels like delaying an execution, you think. But how do you say no? He’s offering you ten days of what you’ve always wanted - even if there’s an expiration date flashing before you, how can you possibly turn it down? 

“What about Minji?” you ask, the one question you have to voice. 

Across the table, his face goes tight. He withdraws his hand, picks absently at the sticker on his beer bottle. “Let’s keep her out of it until we decide what we want,” he says. Each we flies through you like lightning. “Does that seem fair? Let’s let this be about you and me, first.”

That’s fair - and it sounds good, honestly - but part of you is aware and anxious knowing this means you’ll be lying to Minji, having to hide things.

“Okay,” you say uneasily. “I guess you’re right.”

He looks over at you silently for a second. “C’mere,” he finally murmurs, scoots his chair back.

“We’ll break the chair,” you protest, even though you’re already moving, settling on his lap and reveling in the feeling of his strong arms around you, holding you closer.

“Then we break the chair,” he says easily, then kisses you deeply. 

You loop your arms around his neck and turn, lifting a leg over his lap to straddle him. He holds you up by your back at first, but it isn’t long before he’s got one hand tangled in your hair and one on your ass, groaning quietly into your mouth as you grind down on the growing bulge you feel beneath you. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you had him last, but you can’t hold it back. You want him again. 

He settles both hands on your waist, pulling you down harder onto his clothed erection, helping you set a rhythm as you move against him, your mouth traveling down the column of his neck. 

“What if your dad wakes up?” you manage to whisper, your hands slipping under his shirt and brushing along the muscles they find there. 

“He can’t get downstairs without help,” Jin answers, biting off a groan as you lift his shirt up over his head, placing it on the chair next to you. He kisses you feverishly, leaning you back against the edge of the kitchen table, which scoots a little from the force of it. 

“Want you,” you murmur, and Jin tightens his hand on your ass in reply, then wraps his other arm around your back again and stands. You squeal as he lifts you, and he shushes you through a quiet laugh.

“Where are we going?” you hiss, clinging tight to him with both arms and legs as he moves through the kitchen.

“My wallet’s in my room,” he tells you. “And as much as I’d love to bend you over the kitchen table someday, I didn’t want to stop touching you long enough to go deal with that.”

Your pussy throbs at the words and you let out a disbelieving laugh. “Jesus,” you say.

“Seokjin,” he corrects. 

You smack his shoulder, laughing, as he enters his darkened bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you.

“We do have to be a little quiet,” he warns you. “He can’t come down here without my help, but if he wakes up, this house isn’t super sound-proof.”

“I remember,” you say dryly, remembering being scolded dozens of times for laughing and talking too loudly with Minji on sleepovers. “I can be quiet. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“I wasn’t the one screaming last night,” he growls, close to your ear. You smack his shoulder a second time and he laughs, setting you down and turning to dig through his wallet, tossing the foil packet onto his nightstand before turning his attention back to you.

“Ready now?” you ask, arching an eyebrow sassily. 

He laughs again, low and disbelieving, like you’re playing a dangerous game. Another thrill runs through you. You step forward, closing the distance between you, chest to chest with him. You want to run your hands over his stomach, over his pecs, over his shoulders and down his arms. Instead, you press your fingers into his chest and push. He lets you, falling backwards onto his bed and looking up at you, eyes suddenly hooded with desire. 

You pull your shirt over your head and toss it on the floor. Your bra follows, and you stand there, looking him up and down as he runs a hand over the front of his jeans, watching you eagerly. 

“Jeans off,” you tell him. “Actually, scratch that - all of it off.”

He hurries to comply, radiating just happy to be here energy, and by the time you’ve pulled off your own slacks and panties he’s back to laying on his back, legs hanging off the end of the bed, one hand wrapped invitingly around the base of his dick as he pumps it languidly, his eyes on your tits.

“Condom,” you say, and his brow furrows.

“Want to touch you first,” he complains, sitting up a little. 

“Condom,” you repeat firmly.

He reaches for the foil. You wait patiently, thrilling at this game, excited to see what else will unfold. 

He waits, too, one side of his mouth lifted as he watches you. You crawl over him, pressing your mouth to his determinedly. He leans up into the kiss, one hand coming up to roll a nipple between thumb and forefinger before switching to the other. You groan quietly, then reach behind you to line him up. It’ll be a challenge without any stretching first and you know it, but tonight you don’t care. 

You sink down on him slowly, lifting up and dropping back down in intervals to slick him up. He grits his teeth to keep quiet, large hands spanning your hips as he helps guide you. 

For a long time he lets you lead, lifting up and dropping down, leaning forward so he’ll hit that spot each time, rocking back and forth when your legs need a break. He moans so prettily below you, eyes squeezed shut, it eggs you on. You slow your pace, lifting up over him until you’ve almost come off completely, then working your hips back down, clenching over him as you drop again. As you repeat this motion you hear the change in his tone almost instantly - he goes whiney, high-pitched ah - ah - ah-s falling from him until he pulls a pillow around over his face to muffle the sound. 

Finally, he snaps, unable to take your torture any longer. He grips the back of your neck with one hand, holds you tightly in place with his arm across your back with the other, flattens his feet against the floor and begins to piston into you, merciless. 

You cry out once before hiding your face in the crook of his neck as he continues the onslaught, those whiney sounds settling back into deep grunts of effort. 

Your orgasm slams out of nowhere; you were so overcome with the sensation of him fucking in and out of you so roughly that you didn’t even feel the build-up - all the feelings muddled together in a cacophony of sparks and shudders. You wail into his neck, trying hard to keep the sound as low as you can manage, as you feel yourself tighten around him like a vice grip. He cries out, too, his pumps going erratic, and then he stills beneath you, his hands still clutching your hips for dear life.

“Shit,” he breathes finally, giving you a light tap so you’ll lift up and let him handle the mess. You roll to his side and watch him affectionately as he ties up the condom and buries it beneath some papers in his wastebasket. 

“Don’t let me forget to deal with that in the morning,” he requests, flopping next to you.

“I’ll try my best,” you tell him seriously, wrapping an arm around his middle and snuggling in. He rests his arm over your back. 

“Was all of that… okay?” you ask, just to be sure. 

He shakes his head, lips pursing. “Hated it,” he teases. 

You growl in frustration, and he laughs again, reaching to smooth down your hair. “Will you stay tonight?”

You consider this. “I don’t think I can,” you say sadly. “I have work in the morning, I’d have to get up and go back there at like four in order to shower and everything.”

He sighs heavily. “That means I have to get up and drive you back.”

“Poor baby,” you deadpan. 

He nods, agreeing with this. “Do you need to go back now?” he asks, lifting his phone to eye the time. “Can I take you in a little bit?”

“Yeah,” you agree, snuggling in tighter to his side. “We can wait a little. I don’t want to move. Not yet.”

--

Your workday is interrupted the next morning by a flower delivery. The secretary at your office walks the vase back to your cubicle, a look between confusion and irritation on her face. 

“Thanks,” you tell her hollowly, eyeing the bouquet carefully. There’s a tiny card amongst the greenery, but instead of a signature there’s simply a smiley face. The flowers are pretty - you turn the vase carefully so you can look from all sides. Not roses, but a variety of types and colors. You smile, remembering ranting to Minji in his basement as a teenager that roses were boring and overdone.

Behind you, Dale sneezes violently once, twice, three times.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I’ll take them home with me tonight.”

You text Seokjin a picture of the flowers on your desk.

[10:39 AM] You: what are you doing??? [10:39 AM] Jin 😎: trying to make up for past seokjin [10:39 AM] Jin 😎: that guy was an idiot [10:42 AM] Jin 😎: …is it working?

You smile despite yourself. 

[10:42 AM] You: it’s certainly not hurting anything [10:43 AM] You: they’re really pretty [10:43 AM] You: thank you [10:44 AM] You: i’m having dinner with my parents tonight… i’ll text you when we’re done and see what you’re up to? [10:45 AM] Jin 😎: i know what i’ll be up to [10:45 AM] Jin 😎: waiting for my girl

–

You slip across the street after telling your parents goodnight. Seokjin lets you in the front door. Mr. Kim is still up, his leg on a stack of pillows on the couch. He greets you warmly and you sit and talk with them both. It isn’t long before you hear the familiar beep from outside - Minji’s car.

You look at Seokjin in alarm. You knew you’d have to play pretend in front of her eventually… you hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

“Hey!” Minji greets, coming through the front door in a tornado of sounds and bags and shoes. “What are you doing here?”

“I was at my parents’,” you say, hoping it sounds natural. “I just thought I’d come say hello for a minute.”

She narrows her eyes at you, that Minji look. Then she drops her bag on the floor and saunters towards the kitchen.

“Is there food?” she asks.

“I cooked,” Jin tells her. You shoot him a desperate save me look and follow her into the kitchen.

She busies herself in the fridge and you sit, trying to figure out how to get out there without raising her suspicions even further. 

“So,” she says breezily, without even turning to look at you. “You got laid. Want to spill?”

“Minji!” you cry, horrified.

“What?” she laughs. “It must’ve been good, too. You’ve got that glow.”

Out in the living room, you hear Seokjin choke, erupting into a fit of coughing. You try to look like you don’t even notice.

“Minji,” you complain. “Don’t be gross!”

She grins at you. “Please. I’m jealous. And it’s been a long time for you. So, spill! Who’s the guy?”

Seokjin does save you, then, coming into the kitchen and swatting at Minji’s elbow. “If you’re going to be crass, could you lower your voice? Dad doesn’t need to hear all that.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, then goes back to making her plates. “I’m right though,” she grumbles, definitely at a lower volume. “Look at her. The glow doesn’t lie.”

–

The next night you spend the golden evening hours wrapped up with Jin on your couch. 

“Who’s making dinner for your dad?” you ask, rolling lazily on your back and looking up at him.

“I asked Minji to handle dinner tonight,” he tells you. “I told her I was grabbing dinner with some friends.”

“I don’t love the lying,” you admit, “but this is really nice.” You sigh happily and he pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“It is nice,” he echoes, a little sadly. 

You think you must both be thinking about how he’s going home in eight more days. 

“Jin?”

“Hm?”

“How come you never told me?”

He shifts so he can look down at you. “What?”

“If you knew you…” Loved me. “...had feelings for me… why didn’t you say anything?”

He makes a face you can’t read; it’s cousins with a grimace but not quite the same. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he counters.

“I can actually answer that,” you tease, poking him in the ribs. He squirms, whining. “It was because I had zero inkling that you’d be interested. The first time I ever thought you could be was… that night… and then I got the idea that you weren’t into it after all.”

You look at him expectantly, as if saying, okay, your turn. 

His ears are red.  “You’re gonna make me say it, huh?” he asks flatly, avoiding your gaze. 

“I am curious,” you murmur, running a hand up his arm. 

He holds you tighter, rolling on his side to get his arms all the way around you.  With you tucked safely in his embrace, he doesn’t have to look at you when he says, “I guess I was scared. The whole time.”

“Of what?” you ask, your voice muffled by his shirt.

You can feel him shrug. “Of fucking it up. Of pissing off Minji to the point it hurt your friendship. Of it not being as good as I built it up in my head. Of not being… enough to make you happy.”

“Hey,” you say sharply. “That could never be true.” You wiggle a little, sitting up a bit so you can look at him again. “Don’t put so much pressure on it,” you tell him gently. “It doesn’t need to be perfect or nothing, you know? We can just… be.”

He rests his head on yours, fingers tracing patterns on your upper arms. “I like the sound of that,” he admits. 

On the coffee table, your phone rings - several long buzzes, the sound even louder in the quiet room. Jin reaches over your shoulder and picks it up, handing it to you.

“It’s my sister,” he tells you.

“Do you want to come have dinner at my dad’s?” Minji asks when you answer. “Jin went out with some friends so I’m here by myself and I am bored.”

“Oh, sorry Minji… I can’t tonight. I’m actually still at the office,” you lie, and Seokjin’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement. 

She groans. “Fine, leave me here to suffer,” she laments.

“You’re all so dramatic,” you tell her. “Jungkook is the only normal one.” Seokjin kicks your shin gently, pretending to scowl in offense.

“Speaking of Jungkook,” Minji says, clearly perking up, “what about tomorrow night? My dad invited over his golf buddy’s whole family, and he wants all of us there to make him look good. Even Jungkook is coming.”

“I fail to see how I fit into this equation,” you tell her flatly. 

She makes a loud noise of frustration, and you pull the phone away from your ear briefly. Seokjin’s eyebrows inch even higher. “It’s just gonna suck,” she whines. “I have to dress up and act like a real adult, and they’re gonna ask me questions about work and if I’m dating and I would just really appreciate it if you were there to make me feel less pathetic.”

“Because I, too, am a disgrace to adulthood?” you clarify.

She cackles. “Because we can roll our eyes at each other and talk shit about them later? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Not as nice as staying in my own home in my sweatpants,” you say, even though you already know you’ll be going. It’s a chance to spend the night with Jin, one week before he flies home again. “Your dad won’t care that he has an extra child all of a sudden?”

“Nah,” she says easily, happy that you’ve consented. “He won’t care at all. Right, Dad?”

When you hang up, Seokjin is looking at you expectantly, waiting for the explanation. 

“I guess I’m attending your dad’s fancy dinner party tomorrow,” you tell him. Then, frowning, you ask, “How’s he hosting that when he can barely get around?”

Jin rolls his eyes. “You get three guesses who’s doing all the cooking, and the first two don’t count.”

You giggle. “Well,” you say happily, “now I get to see you tomorrow night, too!”

–

You are a fool. You know it the second Mr. Kim’s guests come through the front door. The Parks seem nice enough - a married couple near Mr. Kim’s age, both greying and soft-spoken. The problem is the Trojan Horse they bring with them - their daughter, Sumin. She’s around your age, pretty, and you know instantly that this dinner is a set-up.

The whole evening is unbearable - because it goes well. Seokjin, clueless, is so charming that you think even Mr. Park falls in love with him before dessert. 

Around the dinner table, Mr. Kim introduces each of his children. You notice, even if no one else does, that he gives more details about Jin’s university achievements and current career than he does for Minji or Jungkook. Quite a sales pitch, actually. 

You notice, even if no one else does, how Mr. and Mrs. Park cling to every word, their smiles growing when they hear that Seokjin is smart, has a respectable and stable job with solid income. You notice, even if no one else does, how Sumin toys nervously with the bangles on her wrist, looking sideways at Seokjin and blushing prettily. 

Your stomach turns.

“And my daughter’s best friend,” Mr. Kim introduces you, even though no one cares, certainly not the Parks, “who grew up in this house with them. I consider her a second daughter.”

The Parks don’t let Sumin speak for herself, either - they handle the sales pitch the same way Mr. Kim had for Seokjin. Fact for fact - university background, current job, philanthropic efforts, extracurriculars. You’re tempted to text Minji, “Well, I’d HIRE her if nothing else.” 

You largely tune the rest of the conversation out. You’re too busy watching how Seokjin doesn’t even look at her, keeps his eyes on his plate when they’re not on you. You exist on the edge, peripherally involved at best.

That is, until you hear Mr. Park laugh, “And what are the odds that you two would end up in the same city? Is it really so far? Yah, we ask her to come home more often and you’d think we were asking her to get a medical procedure done!”

“The flights are a bit of a hassle,” Sumin says with an apologetic smile. 

“She’s right,” Jin adds, unable to help himself; he had a personal vendetta against the airline that had brought him home this time. “And there are no train lines that make sense. It is a hassle.”

“It’ll be nice for Sumin to have another good friend in the city,” Mrs. Park says with a gracious smile, nodding to Seokjin. “Many of her university friends ended up abroad for work.”

No one notices that Minji and Jungkook are taking turns making faces across the table from each other. No one notices that you’ve gone silent as the grave.

Except Seokjin, who spends all of dinner shooting you looks that you can’t decipher. 

You sigh in blessed relief when they finish the round of cocktails and say their goodbyes, smiles bright, Sumin’s eyes lingering on Seokjin as she follows her parents towards the front door. You’re unsettled as you station yourself at the kitchen sink, eager for a task to keep you busy. It’s clear to you that the Parks - all three - were sold. How easy would it be for Jin to accept this path? It feels like watching someone step into the place in his life that you’d wanted for as long as you can remember, and fit perfectly. More perfectly than you, who seem to barely fit at all. It feels like watching someone else get everything you ever wanted, without even having to work for it. 

Seokjin passes behind where you’re standing and goes through the kitchen door, out to the wooden porch. A minute later, Mr. Kim limps through the room, following after him. It’s not long before you can hear their voices floating through the open kitchen window.

You shouldn’t listen. Behind you, further in the house, you can hear Minji and Jungkook bickering. You grab a dish towel and start wiping down some of the plates you’ve already cleaned.

“Explain to me what the problem was,” Mr. Kim says sternly. You feel your stomach flip again.

“There wasn’t a problem,” Seokjin answers flatly. 

“You were rude,” Mr. Kim admonishes.

“I wasn’t rude,” Jin counters calmly. “I’m just not interested.”

There’s a thump, like Mr. Kim has slapped the porch railing in frustration. “And why not? She’s beautiful, educated, she’s got a good personality, comes from a good family. How could you not be interested? You’re thirty, for the love of God -.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Jin says, and it makes your chest clench how icy he sounds, “but like I said… I’m not interested.”

The silence goes on so long that you think maybe they moved where you can’t hear them anymore. Then, Mr. Kim’s voice floats through the window, quieter than before.

“Is it because of her?”

“Dad -.”

“For the love of God, Seokjin, how many more years do you plan to lose?” Mr. Kim demands, his voice loud again. “When will you figure out that you’re wasting your time?”

You drop the dish towel, manage to cling to the plate you’re holding. You feel nauseated. Is that what this is? A waste of his time? Are you fools for even pretending you could try? 

Minji comes up behind you, silent as a jungle cat. “What are they fighting about?” she whispers.

You push the plate into her hands blindly. “I have to go,” you say, brushing past her and heading through the house, out the front door, and across the yard. 

You’re halfway to your parents’ house when you hear Seokjin yell your name behind you.

“Hey!” he shouts when you don’t stop. You keep walking, but you can hear his footsteps jog to catch you. He catches your arm, gives it a tug to whirl you around.

“What?” you demand.

“Why are you upset?” he asks, eyes scanning your face, as if he’ll find answers. “What’s wrong?”

You laugh bitterly. “Your dad is right,” you say flatly. “You’re wasting your time. I’ve wasted your time for almost ten fucking years. What are we doing? Where is this going? In six days you’re getting on a plane again and we’ll be right where we were before. You’ve got a great option right in front of you - the least selfish choice for me here is to let you take it. The least selfish thing for me to do is to let you go, let you move on.”

You’re not sure when in this little speech you started crying; you aren’t even aware that it’s happening until Seokjin’s thumbs brush your cheeks and then swipe once more at your waterline, flicking away a fresh wave of tears. 

He looks so confused that you almost feel sorry for him. “What?” he asks. “Y/N, I’m obviously not interested in Sumin.”

“Why not?” you shoot back, anger rising - not at him, you don’t think. “Why not be interested in her? She’s perfect - gorgeous, more educated than me, from a richer family. God, she even lives in your city!” You sniff roughly, steeling yourself, feeling something inside you harden like cooling lava into rock. “You should call her,” you tell him firmly. “She’s the better option for you.”

“Why are you talking like this is ending?” he asks, his voice a whisper. “We’re not ending, we’re just starting.”

“I don’t know,” you cry, feeling stupid and a little like you're overreacting, but now that you’ve started you can’t stop. “Why are you picking the harder option? Why choose this? What happy ending can we possibly have?”

“Pick,” he repeats, putting a bit of a laugh into the word. “Who picked? I fell in love with you. There’s no choice about it. You’re the one I want. You’re the one I love. That’s all there is to it.”

This makes you cry harder, and he pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. You bury your face in his shirt, let yourself be selfish for just one more minute.

It’s there, under the streetlight, hiding in Jin’s solid embrace, that Minji finds you.

She steps into the circle of orange glow that the streetlight creates, appearing out of the darkness without a sound. You and Jin both freeze, caught, no time to leap apart. When she speaks, you expect the sound to echo loudly in the quiet. Instead, her voice comes out hushed and shaking as she asks, “What… is going on here?”

&lt;- Prev || Next ->

oop!!!!!!!!!! >:) we have officially reached the point of the outline that read "Minji becomes the Problem" hehehe

thank you so so so much for reading!!!! Part 4: Perilune will post next Friday, June 23rd.

[aceofshitposts]

Well I've been tagged in a couple different wip games but honestly have just had nothing to show for them lmao but uh I've had this rattling around in my head for a while so I hope this makes up for it a bit lmao

-

Tim hikes his backpack up higher on his shoulders, weaving through the throngs of people in the airport. He got a few odd looks from the security people but even with hands clumsy with youth he was able to forge a convincing enough letter from his parents about him travelling to meet them.

It's before disaster, everything is a little relaxed and therefore it's simple, really, to get through with minimal fuss.

Tim isn't entirely sure how he ended up here, in a body too young and too healthy but he's never been one to waste an opportunity. He's perhaps lucky this was one of the weeks between boarding schools, where his mom pulled him out due to her beverage dissatisfaction with various school curriculums. It meant they were out of the country but he was still in Gotham and not being watched over by any teachers.

Gate 57B. This is where he should be. Tim scans the people sitting in the uncomfortable plastic airport chairs, all waiting to board. It's not a particularly busy flight so it's easy to spot.

Off white hoodie and baggy jeans, clothes designed specifically to not draw attention and disguise body shape. Black hair falling over turquoise eyes that are focused on the rough looking paperback in his lap. There's a duffle bag sitting against his beat up sneakers that Tim just knows the contents of without even trying.

"Jason?" Tim asks coming to stand in front of the other teenager with both hands gripping his backpack straps. He's aiming for curious. Disarming. He can't be too formal or Jason will really know something's wrong and not the way Tim wants.

Jason raises his head lazily. Like a bored teenager being called to answer a question by a teacher. But Tim can see the immediate suspicion, the slight tensing of Jason's jaw and the way his eyes scan Tim to identify threats.

Tim isn't a threat. Not yet, anyway. Not like this. He can sneak around undetected, can forge papers and send anonymous emails to Batman while hiding amongst a throng of other school kids. His mind remembers, knows all the how's, of course, but his body lacks the muscle memory to truly execute anything beyond simple defense moves.

Frustrating, honestly, but probably to his advantage right now. He still has his mind and that's the most important part.

"Do I know you, kid?" Jason asks.

"No" --not yet-- "but I need your help."

Jason raises a single eyebrow and Tim makes a bit of a show of inhaling deeply, gathering courage and whispers, "I need Robin's help."

Jason's eyes widen, all pretenses of calm evaporating with a single startled inhale.

It's a little bit of a gamble, Tim knows. But it's a calculated gamble. Telling Jason the truth was out immediately, as was telling Bruce. Waltzing up to Jason to tell him if he boards that plane he was going to die would probably only embolden him further. Telling Bruce would send him into protective parent overdrive. He was trying, Tim knows, to give Jason some space and independence.

Pleading for Jason's help, for Robin's help, it was at least going to get Jason interested. Tim being a kid was also in his favour. Even as the Red Hood, Jason always had a soft spot for kids in need. And with Jason knowing what he currently knows about his mother, that she was an emergency doctor in the Middle East, he would probably rationalize that his mom won't be upset if he shows up a little later than expected.

"Now boarding Flight AA6237, please form a line with your passport and boarding ticket ready."

That's Jason's flight. If Jason gets on that plane Tim still has backup plans but it would be so much easier if Jason just came with him.

Jason stands suddenly, hefting his duffle bag onto his shoulder with one hand and grabbing Tim's sleeve with the other.

"Alright kid, bathroom's this way," he says with maybe a little more volume than strictly necessary.

Tim beams, genuine and wide. Jason was at least going to hear him out. Jason Todd wasn't going to die, not today and not tomorrow or the next day.

This was only the first item on Tim's list but, it was a start.

And if for a moment, only a second really, Tim forgets about a terrible future, about the pain of a blade against his throat or a batarang in his chest or bruises and missing spleens and deaths and revivals, and simply relishes in the thought that Robin was now urgently leading him somewhere more private to probably interrogate him--

Well. That's just the adrenaline.

It doesn't mean anything.

[nishithedevil]

As promised, part 3!

Capital Prince and District Princess

Lucy Gray x capital gn reader

part 1 part 2 part 4 part 5

The next day, we mentors were escorted to a large circular building, informed that we would be required to convene with our assigned tributes and devise strategies for the impending games. As we stepped into the room one by one, the tributes were already present. The setting featured small metal tables with two chairs each, arranged around the railing on the second floor. In the center was a sizable hole offering a view of the lower floor. The tributes sat on chairs facing away from the railing, handcuffed to the metal tables, while an empty chair was positioned in front of them.

We were instructed to stand a few paces away from these vacant chairs, positioned in front of our designated tributes. Upon entering the spacious room, my attention immediately fixed on Lucy Gray – her vibrant, colorful dress made her unmistakable. All I wanted to do was rush to her and envelop her in an embrace, shielding her from the harsh and cruel realities of this chaotic world. She occupied the table positioned to the right of the entrance.

When I positioned myself as told, I saw Corio a few tables to my right, doing the same in front of Jessup. Professor Highbottom soon walked in alone, took a few steps towards us and began talking.

"In spite of yesterday's tragic events, our president has decided that the show must go on. Show everyone the capital is not afraid of such acts of terror. To which end, doctor Gall wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a special televised presentation of each tribute to our audience to, y'know, get to know them. You have an hour to come up with a strategy."

We were all turned towards him, watching and listening to him as we spoke. He stood there for a few more beats, then turned around and walked back to the entrance. Though he stopped in his tracks and pulled out a tiny vial with, presumably, his favorite alcoholic drink, and downed it in one go. As he pocketed it he spoke out loud again, "You may begin." when he noticed we were still standing.

We all did as we were told and went to sit down in the empty cold chair. I realized something I didn’t before - a very thin small notebook on the table with a pen on top of it. Most definitely put there for us to write down what we agree on and possibly use it for the news later on.

Lucy Gray was the first to speak up, "I'm so sorry about your classmate."

In response, I offered her a small, tight-lipped smile. "Thank you," I replied, and then, after studying her for a moment, I mustered the courage to ask, "...Are you okay?"

She grimaced at my question. "Wearing my mom's dress is the only thing keeping me together. It's like she's..." she sucks her breath in through gritted teeth before continuing, "wrapping her arms around me." then looked down at her handcuffed hands.

I couldn’t think of anything to say in this situation that would sound even mildly comforting, so I decided on speaking a bit of truth. "My mother, she used to smell like roses. She died in childbirth." At that I feel a few tears forming in my eyes. "We were going to have a third twin."

"Are... are both of your parents gone?" Lucy Gray asked, her gaze still directed downward. I could only nod in response, my fingers fidgeting with the pen in my hand. "So you're an orphan, like me," she concluded, her voice lowered. The atmosphere around us suddenly changed, and it felt…uncomfortable. Turns out Lucy Gray’s past was a tough conversation for her. I didn’t press further.

Instead I tilt my head to the side, in silent understanding if not a bit of disbelief. It’s interesting that despite having such different backgrounds we still had some things in common like that.

Not knowing how much time we had left, I knew that we at least had to discuss something about the games. "So, I came up with a few ideas,” I began, “every new one more absurd than the other. But for now before I can fully complete one, I need one favor from you. That's all."

Lucy Gray lifted her gaze, anticipating my request. "I just need you to sing. In these interviews.” Before letting her get a word in, I continued, “It's just, the night before the games is your last chance to win people over. I can't send you gifts in the arena without their money."

She looks to the side, seemingly in thought, and then back at my fidgeting hands, "Maybe a guitar can persuade me.” then she leaned forward a little bit and with a warning tone says, “Maybe.”. She leaned back on the chair and asked, "You really wanna take care of me in that arena, Y/N?"

I lift my head up from looking down at my hands that I unconsciously put in my lap and turned my gaze right at her. She leaned in on the table, I followed suit and said, "Start by believing that I can actually win."

I was struck speechless for a second, "N-no, Lucy Gray you misunderstood me I-'' But I was cut off by the professor calling out, "Snow, let's go." I lift my head up in confusion but then I see my brother walking towards the professor with one of our classmates, to which my confusion subsided and I turned back toward Lucy, gathering my words to clear this.

I grab her hands in mine, giving her a squeeze as she looked down at them with a puzzled expression before lifting her head up to look at me. "Of course I believe you can win Lucy Gray. If you want to so badly, I will do everything in my power to help you from outside. But my plans don't involve you winning the game. My plan just involves you surviving the first 3-ish days."

Now she looked at me even more puzzled, but this time with thoughtfulness and a surge of confidence. "What do you have in mind, my little rebel?" she smirks, leaning ever closer to me.

The only thing I could feel in that moment was my beating heart going faster and faster, and I began being hyper aware of my surroundings. Especially on how soft her hands were, despite how she has been treated these past few days. It felt as though I was holding a very delicate flower and one sudden move can make it collapse and crumble in my hands. They were soft as silk.

The professor suddenly turned towards us, "Alright, time's up, that was enough planning. Now let's see how well you can put that in practice." I didn’t even realize he was near because of how close Lucy Gray was. After his words, the peacekeepers escorted us out before returning their attention to the tributes and harshly beginning to uncuff them and push them out. I let go of Lucy Gray’s hands and with one last glance I mouthed, ‘I’ll see you’ before turning away from her.

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

As they lined the tribute I was to the side with my classmates when I almost lost my balance and awareness before my eyes landed on Lucy Gray, which somehow grounded me and I walked up to her when I realized they were all lined up and waiting. All mentors positioned themselves next to their tributes, behind me Jessup stood alone. I almost started wondering where the hell Corio had gone to, but then I heard footsteps running, and when I turned I saw him adjusting himself standing next to Jessup. Thankfully he arrived before we started moving.

As we walked towards the very dark tunnel entry, all the tributes were looking around, trying not to freak out. I do gotta admit, it did look very eerie. Walking through the bars, a woman's voice echoed around us, speaking "Enjoy the show" in a very monotone way.

When we passed the security bars, without looking anywhere but in front of me, I took a hold of Lucy Gray's hand, not sure if I was seeking comfort for her, or trying to give her some. Lucy Gray looked down at our intertwined hands, but I could not see her reaction due to the darkness. Not long after walking in though, we saw two cameramen close by to our right, so we had to let go of our hands, hoping the camera did not catch our small act of affection.

Nevertheless, that didn’t stop Lucy Gray from moving closer to me, bumping our shoulders gently, seemingly looking for comfort now more than ever.

As we were moving around, a guy with curly hair walked up to the cameramen and grabbed them, asking them to turn their cameras to his tribute. Suddenly we hear a loud noise from behind and realize that the doors have been shut. But then around us big windows started to be revealed, shut behind big metal slides. Light began pouring inside the arena. My body turned towards Lucy Gray, though she probably didn’t notice me in that moment as she was looking at the surroundings..

Then we heard a booming male voice, "Welcome to the arena of the 10th annual Hunger Games. Tributes, mentors, you have 15 minutes to survey the space and discuss strategy."

Everyone around us was doing their own thing. Some mentors were telling their tributes a strategy, some were still looking around. Lucy Gray turned to me slowly, "Please, don't let me die in here tomorrow, Y/N.” her voice was becoming smaller and more worrisome as she spoke, “Please." This was nothing like the Lucy Gray from before. Seeing her in this state brought a chill down my spine at how uncomfortable I was for having her put in this situation, even if I had no choice in her being here. But I had to ground myself, no time for regret. Now it’s time to find a way to get her out of here alive.

Just as she said those words, on the far end of us an explosion occurred. The impact of the explosion blew us away and we all fell. Suddenly the arena was exploding from every side possible, and instinctively I tried to crawl towards Lucy Gray, to cover her with my body, thinking that that would do something to protect her from the flying debris everywhere around.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to do that since the impact from every new explosion blew us away in a different direction, so me and Lucy Gray just stuck together on our hands and knees trying to find a way to escape. As we stood up an explosion from above came and all I could think about in that moment was Lucy Gray. So I pushed her away as everything fell from above.

I tried to run in her direction, but I got knocked down, a big pillar landing on my lower half, trapping me underneath it. I tried crawling out from under it, but it was to no avail. I managed to wheeze out, "Help me" to anyone who could hear me, thinking this was going to be my end. I could barely breathe from all the smoke and dust everywhere.

As I slowly lift my head towards the light, the entry tunnel, I heard voices yelling for everyone to get a move on and get out of there. All of a sudden, through the dust all around, I could slowly make out a figure coming towards me. As it got closer and closer I soon realized it was none other than Lucy Gray, running to my aid. She stopped for a second above me, looking at the situation, before she went to the side and with all her might tried to lift up the pillar.

At that moment Jessup came rushing from behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder and sliding down in front of her, "C'mon, the gate is open." He gets on his hands and knees and grabs her by the hand, "Cmon! They wouldn't have saved you!" He exclaimed frantically before giving up and standing up. Without one quick glance back at her, he starts sprinting towards the exit.

Two other tributes follow him but then they are suddenly shot at by peacekeepers behind us. Lucy Gray instinctively leans down on the ground so they don't see her.

As they run towards the two tributes, Lucy Gray starts lifting the pillar with all her might, managing to lift just enough for me to slide out from.

Just as I turn on my back and exhale, we smile at each other through the dust. Out of nowhere a peacekeeper comes and grabs Lucy Gray by the arm, lifting her up and taking her away. We extend our hands to grab a hold of each other, Lucy Gray struggling against the peacekeeper, but it’s to no avail, and she is taken away from me as I gradually slip into unconsciousness.

[devastator1775]

Nix comes out with the truth (Murder Drones Nix Doorman AU)

Summary: Nix had it all planned. She'd go to her parents, sit them down and tell them. Plain and simple. Just …come out with the thing that had been in the back of her head for so long now. Simple, right? …. Unless, of course, her nerves get the better of her.

Nix paced from one end of her room to the other, muttering to herself. She had been this for at least half an hour, since she had come back home from school. She had decided to finally come clean to her parents and reveal something that she had been struggling with for a few weeks now. On her way home she was filled with confidence and determination. She would stand in front of her parents and proudly make her announcement.

And then she came home.

And nerves overtook her.

Hence why she was pacing around her room, almost chewing off one her fingers.

“I mean, there no way they’d be mad, right? I mean, nah. Not my parents. I mean, they love Aunties V and Lizzy. No, it’ll be fine.” Nix said to herself, bringing herself to smile confidently …before it faded to a worried grimace. “But what if they don’t? What if they hate me for it? What if-“

“Dude, you’re going to blow a fuse like that!” a voice called out, making Nix jump in surprise.

Nix took a deep breath and turned to her desk, where her phone still connected to Avery – her honorary cousin and the one person she trusted who had gone through something similar. Which is why she had called them, yet somehow that little event had completely evaded her mind while she was nervously talking to herself. She walked over to her desk and picked up her phone. “Sorry, Avery, forgot you were here …so to speak.”

“Uh-huh, I had that feeling, miss talks-to-herself-a-lot.” Nix could practically hear the shit-eating grin that Avery had on their face right now. The thought made her feel a little better. “Honestly, Nixie, just get it out. Better to throw it all in the open, than to let it bottle up inside where it can build up and burst. Trust me on that.”

“Uh, the way I remember, Ave, is that your moms were walking in on us while you were trying out some of Aunt Liz’s old school uniforms.” Anne chuckled. “And you were making so many panicking excuses that you suddenly just blurted out the truth. There was no ‘build up and burst’ with you.”

“My point exactly!” Avery shouted. “And after a good cry and a long talk, everything worked out between us. Just like -*snap* - that!.”

“Still totally different than what I’m gonna do.” Nix flopped down on her bed, staring at her ceiling. “You got caught – you did, don’t deny it – and it worked out. What if-?”

“It will work out!” Avery repeated themselves. “Nix, your parents are, like, totally the nicest people I know – and I’m counting my mom V with that.”

Nix chuckled. “Yeah …can you still believe people saying that she was so much worse back when?”

“I still don’t believe she was a Disassembly Drone at all. My mellow, librarian mom …like that? Right, no way. It’s like- yatatata, don’t change the subject!.” Avery scolded – they sounded so much like V right now.

“It was worth a try …” Nix grinned. Her audio receptors picked up the sounds of doors closing outside her room. She took a deep breath. “Mom and dad are here. Wish me luck, Avery.”

“Luck!”

Nix ended the call. She closed her eyes for a few moments as she gathered her courage.

“Nix, you here, Sparkplug?” She heard her father call out to her from their living room.

“Y-yeah, in my room!” Nix answered, hoping she really didn’t sound as nervous as she thought how nervous she sounded. She took a deep, final – hopefully not that final – breath and walked out her room. “Hey, I’ve got something to tell y-“

The rest of her words got caught in her throat as she immediately felt her confidence fade when she saw her mother laying down on the couch with her head resting on N’s lap and the latter pressing an icepack against his wife’s forehead. “E-everything alright, mom?”

Uzi let out a soft groan. “Yeah, just …a [parental advisory] day at work.”

“Uzi.” N scolded, despite the grin tugging on his lips.

“What, her censor routines are still powered on.” she paused for a moment before she threw a glance at her teenage daughter. “Are they?”

“Y-yes, sure …” Now they were, at least. Nix had figured out a long time ago where those hidden settings were in her programming. Little trick that Avery had taught her, so they could watch R-rated action movies with unfiltered audio when their parents were out.

“Good girl.” Uzi closed her eyes again, smiling contently as N caressed her hair. “You said you wanted to tell us something, Nix?”

Panic welled up in Nix’s core. “I-it can wait.” She winced when she heard her voice crack in such an obvious way and of course her parents had heard it too. She tried to back away as she saw her mother sit up straight, giving her that motherly ‘something-is-wrong’ look. “I’ll just go back to my room and-“

“Nicole…” N spoke up, his voice soft and calm but it made Nix nevertheless freeze in her tracks, her entire body going rigid as she let out a surprised squeak.

“Nix, what’s the matter?” Uzi asked, clearly concerned about her daughter’s current state.

“N-nothing.” Nix fiddled with her fingers.

“Did something happen at school?” N asked.

“No, honestly.” Why did she sound so desperate to avoid this? Okay, maybe she was kinda trying to avoid it, but … She squeaked again when she suddenly saw her mother right in front of her. Her mother could be so fast when she wanted to be. A pair of hands gently held her arms.

“Nix?”

It was like a heavy weight had nestled inside her forehead, as Nix couldn’t bare herself to lift up her head to watch her mother in the eye.

“Honey, did something happen?” Uzi asked softly. “Did someone hurt you?”

Nix shook her head. “It’s …” Her voice sounded so weak, she hated it.

N ushered Uzi and Nix to come back to the couch, where Uzi gently sat her daughter down while she and N knelt in front of her.

N placed a hand under Nix’s chin and gently lifted it up, making her look at them. Nix didn’t know why but his gently smile always had such a soothing effect on her. She couldn’t help but to smile …but just a bit.

“Oh, I do think I see a little smile under all that gloom.” N joked, chuckling as his wife shoved him in the ribs.

“Nix, your dad’s horrible jokes aside,“ she threw her husband a teasing sideways glance. “We just want to know what is bothering you.”

“W-why would anything bothering me?” Nix asked, playing nervously with her hair.

“You’re playing with your hair.” N pointed out. “You do that when you’re nervous.”

“Like when you were lying when you got an F on your homework because your forgot it.” Uzi added. She crossed her arms, giving her daughter a stern look. “Is this something like that?”

“No …it’s …completely different.” Nix admitted. “It’s just …difficult to find the words?”

“Just that?” N asked, placing a hand on Nix’s knee. “It looks like a bit more than ‘not finding words’, though….”

Nix knew they were gonna grill her until they got answers. She knew they did it because they loved her and they wanted her to be okay, but …no, no ‘but’. Because of that, she needed to tell them the truth. They did everything for her and for that, Nix needed to be honest with them.

“Okay, okay …” Nix took a deep breath, slowly releasing it as she tried to steady her core, so it wouldn’t feel like it was going to burst out of her chassis at any moment. “There is something I need to tell you, but …”

“Yes?” Uzi pressed softly, trying her utmost best not to push beyond Nix’s comfort level. She knew – out of personal experience – how a teenager could lash out when pressed beyond their limit of comfort. Robo-God knows that her dad had faced the brunt of her anger so often …completely justified, of course

“I …I’m scared.” Nix confessed.

“Scared?” Uzi asked, surprised. “Of what?”

“Of us?” N asked.

“Of how you’ll react …”

Uzi and N looked at each other, before turning back to Nix. Uzi held her child’s hands between her own. “React to what, Nix?”

No turning back now. Time to come clean. The curtain falls. The code cracked. The teenager running out of expressions to use to stall for time. One final, deep breath.

“For the last …couple of months, I’ve been …noticing things. Noticing certain …people. Certain …g-genders?” Nix began. Something in her core jumped when she saw her parents’ expression change, even though she couldn’t decipher what emotion it was. “I noticed that I’ve been looking at the girls in my class a little more, a little longer. And when I realized that was happening, I decided to look some things up, got a few digi-books recommended I should read. And, you know, once I remembered that I never really looked at boys that same way, I ….”

She gulped, trying to find out her voice again while she was figuring out what her parents were thinking. Maybe they wanted to say something about what she’d been telling them so far?

…

No? Okay, back to speaking, then.

Nix took a deep breath. Her entire body was tingling, and she felt like her system was going to shut down. “I …I like girls. Really like them. Like …I’m attracted to them. Romantically. I’m often fantasizing about holding hands with girls, kissing girls, dating girls.  I-I-I…I’m gay. I’m a lesbian.”

Nix figured that that knot inside her stomach should have loosened up by now, but it felt tighter than ever. She couldn’t feel her legs. She was sure that she was mere moments away from passing out due to stress related energy loss.

Why weren’t her parents saying something?

They were just staring at her?

Processing the information? Judging? Trying to figure out if they really heard what they just heard?

“W-well?” Nix voice was barely audible.

She felt her core jump when N suddenly stood up and walked away from the couch, hand pressed against his mouth. Was he in shock? Getting angry? Was he disappointed in his only daughter?

A pair of hands fell on Nix’s shoulders, making her jump. Oh yeah, her mom was still her too. Uzi was gazing down at the floor, her expression hidden from the anxiety-riddled teenager. She wanted to call out to her mom, but it seemed that Nix’s voice abandoned her at the moment, only coming out as a barely audible squeak.

“Nicole Doorman …I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”

Nix’s core sank and ice filled her entire being.

“I can’t believe you made me lose the bet.”

Wait, what?

A small, slightly apologetic grin, appeared on Uzi’s lips. “I mean, I thought that, at least, you’d be bi, like me.” She sighed. “But it seems your father had it at the right end and now he’s never going let me live it down.”

“Uzi, when did our daughter ever show any sort of interest in boys?” N asked, as he turned towards his wife and daughter with a massive grin on his face.

“There was …” Uzi paused. “Well, I guess that doesn’t really count, since that person is going by ‘she’ and ‘Sally May’ now, but –“

“Excuse me!” Nix called out, announcing that she was still in the room. “Very surprised and very emotional adolescent Drone sitting here!”

“Oh honey …” Uzi caressed her daughter’s cheek. “I’m sorry. We should be handling this a little better, shouldn’t we?”

“Yeah, you got that right!” Nix’s emotion were all over the place. Confusion. Anger. Relief. Many others. She took a deep breath before stating her question. Which was, very simply: “You knew?”

“We didn’t ‘know it’ know it, but we had our suspicions.” N confessed.

“HOW?” Nix suddenly realized the bombshell her mother had dropped earlier. “Wait, you’re bi, mom?”

“Not really the topic at hand, isn’t it?” Uzi quickly stated, blushing softly and ignoring the teasing chuckle of her husband. Uzi took her daughter’s hands in her own, giving them a soft squeeze. “Nix, our little Sparkplug, we …are your parents. You are your daughter. We know you. We notice things, even if you don’t realize we’re looking.”

“But that book titled ‘Your robo-sexuality and you. A quest for LGBTQIA+ understanding’ you forgot to put away and was laying in the middle of your bed, gave us some clues as well. You really should clean up your room more often.” N confessed with a soft chuckle. “But even without it, we had a feeling.”

Nix’s eyes hollowed. They found that book? She was sure that she had …hang on, not the pressing issue. “So, why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, still blushing.

Uzi cackled for a moment, before she composed herself. “Sorry about laughing like that, but …we thought that ’Honey, can we have a really awkward talk around the diner table about your unlocking sexuality?’ wasn’t really something you were waiting for.”

“So we waited for you.” N smiled reassuringly at Nix. “Until you were ready to come to us.”

“Honey, we are so proud of you, for coming out to us, despite being so anxious and so scared.”

“Yeah, we kinda pressed on the issue there, but-“ he grinned sheepishly when Uzi shot him a scolding look. “Shutting up. But, like Uzi said, we are so proud of you.”

“And we love you.” Uzi held her daughter’s head between her hands. “No matter who you decide you love.”

Flabbergasted. Stumped. Surprised. Baffled. Dazed. Perplexed. Puzzled. Dumbfounded. Flustered. Stupefied. Awestruck. Floored. There were so many words for what Nix was experiencing right now. All of that fear and anxiety she had been feeling. All the buildup leading to her coming-out moment. For days, she had been working up the courage to confess to her parents. Out of all the reactions that her parents could give her …’we had a feeling’ was one she didn’t count for.

It was …laughable.

A snort escaped her. She tried to apologize, but then a giggle got out, followed by another. She tried to keep it in, but she suddenly bursted out in laughter …for a few moments, before it slowly changed into a sob …then another sob. She started crying, wailing as digital tears started to flow down her visor when the emotions that she had been experiencing these last few moments finally found release.

Two pair of arms wrapped around her, each pulling her close. Her dad was stroking her back, holding her head against his chest. Her mom was her hair while whispering words of comfort to her.

“’m s’rry.” Nix tried to choke out, gasping for air – despite not really needing it – and trying to calm herself down.

“Shhh, let it out, Nix.” Uzi whispered warmly, as she gently pulled her daughter against her chest. She couldn’t help but smile as Nix clung to her clothes, sobbing out her apologies. A tear was forming in her eyes as well.

“Our strong girl.” N stated softly but with pride in his voice. The grin on his face made Uzi think back on their wedding day. It was the same goofy, happy smile back then too.

Nix didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like she had been crying for hours, even though she figured there hadn’t even half an hour passed.. Her sobbing had died down to small hiccups, her head still resting comfortably on her mother’s lap while the latter was stroking her daughter’s hair.

“Are you feeling better, Nix?” Uzi asked when Nix finally found the energy to sit up again.

“Mm-hmmm.” Nix rubbed her visor. Her eyes felt dry, even though it's not really possible. She took a deep breath and smiled at her mom. “sorry for breaking down like that.”

“Honey, never apologize for things like that. Never to us.” Uzi stated, caressing her daughter’s cheek. It didn't show, but Uzi had been crying as well, as did N. “It was an emotional rollercoaster, after all.”

“Besides, you should’ve seen Uzi’s outburst when we-“

“Bite me, husband!” Uzi spat out but the grin on her face betrayed that she didn’t mind. She turned to Nix with a grin. “So …is there someone special?”

Nix instantly blushed, playing with a strand of her hair. “N-no …not really.”

“Oh?” N almost seemed disappointed. “No-one I can give a ‘what are your intentions with my daughter?’ speech to yet?”

“I thought there was, but …turns out she doesn’t – how did Avery put it? – play for the same team.”

“Wait, you told Avery before us?” Uzi asked, a hint of a teasing grin playing on her lips. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“Avery is kinda an expert – or the closest thing to it – on the subject of ‘life-changing realizations and how to present them to your parents’, y’know.”

“Some expert.” Uzi snorted. “Did V and Lizzy walk in on them?”

“Yeah, while you two were trying on dresses?”

“That’s what I told them, too.” Nix giggled. Her expression turned bittersweet. “But …I don’t know, it felt like they were the only ones I could go with this, quote-unquote, “problem” of mine. We’ve always been each other’s confidants, y’know?”

“Did V and Lizzy know before us?” Uzi asked sharply.

“Avery swore she wouldn’t tell before I told you guys, but, eh …you know how Auntie V can get when she sniffs a secret.”

“Well, if V knows, she’d keep it a secret, too.” N stated as he ruffled Nix’s hair, much to her chagrin. He scratched the side of his chin before adding. “Robo-Lord knows she knows how to keep ‘em.”

“Huh? What does that mean?” Nix cocked her head in confusion, while Uzi threw N a warning glare.

“Uh, nothing.” N quickly answered, as digital beads of sweat ran down his visor. “Something between the three of us.”

Nix rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“Well, someone is back to being a moody teenager.” Uzi grinned. “Feeling better?”

“Feeling great!” Nix stated cheerfully, and it couldn’t be more true.it was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She felt like she could fly – if only she had inherited wings like her dad, but at least she could dream.

Nix grinned as she thought about the advice that Avery had given her. Who knew they were right, although in a different order: A good talk, a long cry and everything worked out great.

*SNAP*

Just like that.

[bylertruther]

do you ever think about how will probably wishes he was braver?

that he could tell mike the truth about himself without having to speak in code. that he could stick to his guns when he's been wronged and stand up for himself rather than tucking tail and turning the other cheek. that he could be less shy, less sensitive, less cowardly, and maybe then his loved ones wouldn't forget about him as often as they do.

maybe then they would pick him first, rather than leaving him for last. maybe then they would want to hang out with him and hear what he has to say. maybe then they would treat him like they used to, like he can still take care of himself just like they can, instead of like a fragile little thing that they pick up only when they need him. maybe then they would care about him as much as he cares about them. maybe then he wouldn't doubt that it could all come crashing down once they know who he really is, and always has been, because the rest of him would've been enough.

like, maybe he wishes he didn't freeze or run away so much. maybe he wishes he wasn't so afraid all the time, of every little thing. that he could be brave like mike, el, or his mom. i mean, el's been through so much, too. why can't he be more like her? why does he have to hide behind her? he hides behind her when the monsters come crawling back, and he hides behind her when he can't bring himself to say what he really means—even after getting on her case about it.

he spent so much time on that painting. he didn't let anyone see it—it was that special to him. why couldn't he own up to that? there's no monster in the van with him; it's just him and mike and this painting of the party, nothing inherently incriminating or romantic, and still—he can't help himself. he retreats back into the shadow, shrinks into himself, and tells lie after lie to the person that he never lies to, that he knows doesn't fucking deserve that, just because he's too scared.

of course he'd feel like a mistake sometimes. of course he'd hate who he is (if That script is to be believed), when he can't even talk to the one person that would understand without lying straight to his face, over and over again, like a fucking hypocrite. of course he'd feel so lost without the person that tells him it's okay to be this way and shows him that there is indeed strength in it. of course he'd hate who he is when he's encouraging someone to be true and speaking about their courage, all while being incapable of taking his own advice, and giving the credit for all of his love and efforts and emotions to someone else.

so many people died to bring him back, so many people died just because he didn't stay dead when maybe he should have, and for what? so that he can continue to hide rather than live his life? so that he can turn into a "worse" version of himself? so that he can live in fear? so that he can continue to ache for a past that he can never return to, while everyone else moves forward and berates him for not doing the same? time stopped in the upside down when will went missing, and he's been stuck there ever since, too. too much has happened for him to move on from. too much has changed—he's changed. he's too different now, in every way, and the older he gets the more clear it becomes.

of course he'd feel like a mistake. of course he'd hate who he is. he's the common denominator here: in his loneliness and in this war. the boy who came back to life when others didn't. the boy that got possessed and couldn't fight it. the boy that turned into a liar and a coward and must learn to live with it, even if it's at his own expense. the boy that can't let go of the past and whom the past won't let go of either, because even after everything, he's still connected to this great evil that won't let him go. they got it out of him, and yet the tether remains, because of-fucking-course it would.

just—why? why him? why can't anything ever go right with him? why is he always the outlier? i think that overwhelming amount of fear, shame, grief, guilt, exhaustion, and loneliness would wear anyone down, let alone a teenager that never asked for any of it and has experiences so unfathomably unique that the only other people that could have possibly understood are literally dead.

[partiallypearl]

you wouldn't be the first renegade (to need somebody)

The lie eats at Ariana for days. She knows she’s wrong, that she should be honest with Jett and the rest of the team but she can’t bring herself to do it. Not with Grace breathing down her back, watching her every move. - Ariana struggles with ending her friendship with Grace, and her feelings for Jett.

taglist: @happinessismagicc @aliferousdreamer @zackmartin @catboykacchan @andi-mec

The lie eats at Ariana for days. She knows she’s wrong, that she should be honest with Jett and the rest of the team but she can’t bring herself to do it.

Not with Grace breathing down her back, watching her every move.

I just want to be part of the team, she thinks to herself before remembering that she’s the reason she isn’t.

It hurts, knowing this. She wants to be able to get frings with Jett, and to hang out with Adele and Olive and to watch movies with A-Troupe, but Grace won’t let her.

And the harder she tries to pull away, the tighter Grace’s grip gets.

“You can’t leave me,” Grace tells her, “or you’ll be like everyone else.”

Logically, Ariana knows it’s not true, that their friendship isn’t healthy, that it isn’t real anymore.

But she sees Grace’s pale blue eyes tear up and all the courage she’s built to stand up for herself disappears - like Presley.

It’s after her fifth and failed attempt at giving up her friendship with Grace that Ariana finds herself in Studio A, dancing through her feelings.

The pop song playing in her airpods keeps out any thoughts as she twirls and flips around the room, pulling random improv from her head. Her anxiety is alight, like a live-wire flowing through her.

She ends in a calypso leap, her chest heaving when she hears footsteps. She looks up, the blood rushing to her head as her eyes meet Jett’s. She takes out her headphones as Jett speaks.

“Hi.” Jett says, and Ariana gulps for air as she starts to calm down. Jett doesn’t look like herself with her hair down.

Her hair frames her face in loose curls rather than her usual tight french braids. She’s in a green satiny dress with halter straps, and wow Ariana knew she was muscular but holy shit.

Jett looks different almost, prettier. Not that she wasn’t already pretty.

“Hi.” Ariana says breathlessly, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Your uh, your hair is down?” She asks and Jett reaches for a loose lock, as if she had forgotten it wasn’t up.

“Oh yeah. I have my cousin’s debut - her 18th birthday party tonight. My mom’s getting off from work early to pick me up so I can go to Chesa’s to get ready.”

Ariana nods shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “You look nice. All fancy.”

Jett laughs, “Better hope my titas agree.”

Ariana laughs as well. They don’t speak for a moment before Jett walks over to her. “You okay?”

For a moment Ariana forgets that she had been frustrated before, just soaking in Jett’s energy.

“Yeah. I mean no,” Ariana says, her cheeks heating up under Jett’s scrutinizing gaze, “it’s hard to leave friendships. When they aren’t healthy y’know?”

Jett hums, wiping her hands on her skirt. “Yeah. I do. But I think you’re making the right choice. You deserve people who care about you.”

The like me, is unsaid, but Ari hears it all the same. Jett steps closer, and Ariana freezes, her heart pounding. The shorter girl takes her hand, squeezing it three times.

“You’re a good person Ari, and you’re my best friend. I love you y’know that right?”

Ariana nods. “I love you too.” Their eyes meet for a second before Jett’s phone dings, and she looks down at it. “My mom’s outside. I’ll see you on Monday!”

She squeezes Ariana’s hand one last time before running off, and Ari watches as her hair flows behind her as she leaves studio A.

She knows she has to do it. She has to tell Jett the truth, and soon.

Or she’ll be royally screwed.

[misscherry-26]

Johnny Lawrence is dating a single mother, reader who has eleven years old shy daughter, morgan. one day, there was an father-daughter dance event in her school and since her dad is out of the picture, morgan is just shy to ask johnny

Father- Daughter Dance - Johnny Lawrence

Summary:  Morgan, your daughter, finally works up the courage to ask Johnny, your boyfriend, a big question.

Pairing: BfJohnny Lawrence x Gf,Singlemother!Reader (Ft. Morgan, reader's daughter)

Warnings: None, fluff?

Author's note:  Hi! I hope you like it, Enjoy it and thank you for requesting! ❤️ Mistakes will be corrected later!

“Sure you want to tell him?”

“Sure, it’s just, Don’t you  mind me asking him, right?”

When your eleven- year old- daughter came over after school and told you about the father-daughter dance dance school is gonna throw next friday, you almost cried when she mentioned you Johnny. 

It actually surprised you. You and Johnny have been dating for months, and on the first date, you weren’t afraid to tell him that you were a single mom.  Although it did make you nervous  having to tell your daughter, three months later, that you and he were dating. And although she didn’t show any discomfort, she always acted very shy about the topic, and near him. 

That’s why when she asked you, it left you speechless but made you happy, not only because she chose Johnny, but also because you realized that she considers him an important figure in her life. 

“Of course not hun! Just- Nevermind, it doesn’t matter, okay? “

She nods and nervously gets up from her bed, you just stay there looking at her. 

“Can you wait here?”. You just nod.

Morgan leaves her room, but not before letting out a long breath. 

The reality is that she is afraid that when she asks Johnny, and he says no, she doesn’t want you to observe the situation,

Honestly, she wishes that Johnny would say yes. 

She never met her father, and you told Morgan the truth about why her biological father was not there when she was born.

But for Morgan, Johnny has been the best father figure for her. 

Morgan finally makes it to the kitchen where Johnny is preparing dinner. Pizza…Frozen pizza bought at the supermarket. “Hey Morgan,” Johnny says as soon as she enters the kitchen.”Everything okay?”

“Yes! Yes” she answers quickly. 

Johnny just nods and turns to put the pizza in the oven. “Well, it should be ready in twenty minutes-”

“Johnny, Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he begins to take out the plates and cutlery to set the table. “Spill it”

Well, it’s that at school they´re organizing a dance and I… Well, it’s a father-daughter dance and I-I was wondering if you want to go with me?” She said, lowering her voice in the last part. 

Johnny freezes. Any question except that was expected. Not that he doesn’t want to go. He loves Morgan very much. He already fixed his situation with Robbie, he doesn’t want to make the same mistake again. 

Johnny clears his throat and stands to attention. 

Morgan, who had her eyes closed, fearing for Johnny’s answer, opens them. 

“Yes Morgan, i would love to go with you”.

[aguamarinee]

【 𝑨 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 &𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑴 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕.】

➪ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst if you squint, female reader

➪ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: "Still waiting for my first dance."

➪ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Instead of one partner for the occasion, reader meets nine. She has the opportunity to spend prom with each of them a little bit, but towards the end, the final choice is a much harder decision than it should be.

【 A mini drabble series! I've been anticipating this for so long, so I'm happy I can finally release this! 】

; 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 #1

➪ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: K × reader

➪ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1,1k (let's pretend it's a drabble)

This was the big day!

Prom was finally happening in your life, and you were so ready for it!

Choosing a partner went so well, when he asked you he was an absolute gentleman... And even the dress choice was smooth sailing!

After trying on a couple, in the corner of the store you saw one in particular that really seemed to match your taste, and luckily the only one that was left, it was in your size.

...So, what could go wrong this evening, now that it's finally here?

You arrived at the venue in your parents' car on time, before the big crowd, but they didn't drop you off yet, saying they want to see your prom partner for themselves.

True, it was part of the agreement that you two will arrive separately and will meet in front of the venue, but what did 'in front of' mean exactly?

In the doorway, or the entrance, or the street just before the building, or at the small garden connected to the place?

It should have been obvious, but you never know.

At first, you waited around a bit in the car, secretly seeking out the people who were on their way to the party.

Then you exited to smell the fresh, early evening air and make yourself noticeable.

But no matter how you sharpened your eyesight, truth be told, your partner wasn't here yet.

Your parents started to get impatient and skeptical, so to tone down the situation you faked that you got a message from him on your phone, saying that he was inside the venue.

You knew your parents were just worried, but it was your day and you wanted to avoid all arguments or though scenarios, so you confidently convinced them to leave you alone with the best care in the world since they can trust your partner completely that he'll take care of you and your night.

You watched them slowly leave with a big smile on your face, your mom looked back one last time from the passenger seat but they kept their word and left, they didn't do any bonus circles around the area or park somewhere away to keep an eye on you.

As you saw the familiar car getting lost on the highway, mixing with the last rays of sunlight your smile faltered a little bit, because you just lied about your partner being here but at the same time, you were finally alone!

You had time for yourself a little bit before he makes his appearance, if for no other reason than to look around the beautifully decorated spacious venue standing in front of you.

So you made your move and walked into the open, petite garden-like lobby of the building at last.

Continuously admiring the elegant decorations around you, even if the majority of the flowers were fake and the fairy lights provided little to no lighting, or the big satin bows hung a bit too low even for your height, the overall picture was really precious.

You comfortably treaded around the garden, mustering up a bit more courage before going into the venue.

"Excuse me." A gentle voice slightly startled you from behind, so you turned around but didn't expect such a colossal presence.

You almost voiced your thoughts, but you refrained yourself in the end.

The guy standing in front of you was tall and proportionate, he had a handsome chiseled face and his dark locks were nicely swept back so his forehead was exposed.

He looked dashing and very charming with that welcoming, polite smile of his.

And his black velvet tuxedo that was cut out just for him made him even more appealing for sore eyes.

"Are you with someone, perhaps?" He asked and genuine interest seemed to sparkle in his irises.

"Ah, no, not at the moment." You answered in a quiet voice, a bit intimidated by his confident persona.

"Care to enter with me, then?" He questioned with a deep smile, his handsome features seemed to shine even more.

'What, do I even know him?' Were your first thoughts and you didn't respond immediately, just gazed at him.

He seemed to be a bit lost in the moment for a second but then he realized what took you so long and started to introduce himself.

"Sorry, that was a bit rude of me." He slightly bowed his head. "My name's Koga Yudai, but I don't think we have met before... You must have been startled by my directness, I apologize if I offended you." His aura immediately changed, he seemed genuinely worried and apologetic.

It took nothing in you to reassure him about his behavior, you could tell he didn't mean any harm, he just caught you off-guard.

"Don't worry, I didn't consider you rude for a second. It's a pleasure to meet you, Yudai." You gave him a warm smile.

"The pleasure is mine." He nodded and got back into his cool, polite sense of talking.

But then he seemed hesitant for a moment.

"The truth is... Well, it's still a bit hard on my pride but my prom partner dumped me at the last minute, but I still came in the hope of finding someone for my first dance." He averted his eyes for a second then they traveled back to you, gliding over your outfit and your form, as you were without a partner at the moment, just like him. "And when I saw you walking here alone, I just thought you were perfect." His smile was somewhat sheepish, you felt bad for him, comforting words on the tip of your tongue were about to slip out and reassure him once again...

...But it didn't feel right.

You had a promised partner, maybe somewhere inside waiting for you the same, dying to ask you for that first dance and this poor guy here only had the chance to speak to you sooner because he was walking around the garden like you did a couple of minutes ago.

He was tall, handsome, and polite, surely he will have no trouble finding someone who was truly suitable for him tonight.

And that's all that mattered.

"I'm genuinely sorry to hear that, your partner didn't deserve you, but neither do I." You gazed up at him with seriousness. "I have someone waiting for me inside for that ominous first dance, just like you asked. And I think you deserve someone who has eyes for you only, so... I think I will take my leave. And good luck with your first dance, I'm sure it will be worth the wait!" With a shy squeeze to his right shoulder, you walked past him, proud that you mustered up the courage to turn him down.

You didn't wait for any sort of answer or reaction, you said what you thought was right and left.

Really, it was better this way for both of you.

As unfortunate as he was, he deserves a true, romantic first dance this evening.

【𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝.】

➪ 𝐀/𝐍.: In an alternative universe let's pretend every &TEAM member is having their prom right now lol.

➪ 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 【𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓】 !

Tagging: @nichoswag

[love-and-greta]

Surprise Surprise

Just a little Daddy Josh fic that has been sitting in my drafts for way too long!

Hope y’all enjoy!

No warnings, just pure fluff :)

____________________________________________

You sat on the edge of the cold toilet seat staring down at the pregnancy test in your hands; your eyes wide and your heart feeling like it was going to beat straight out of your chest.

Two lines. There was no denying it.

You and Josh weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but you also weren’t exactly trying to avoid it either. The two of you had made it known that one day you wanted to have children with one another; long nights turned into earlier mornings, wrapped up in each other’s arms, whispering plans for your future together.

You were just shocked that that future was now. Was Josh going to be excited? Would this get in the way of his career? Were you even ready to be a mom?

Nervousness started to creep into your stomach the longer you stared at the test. You knew you had to tell Josh today. You hadn’t let him know you had missed your period two weeks ago, hoping it was just late this month. But the truth was sitting right in your hands, clammy from the nerves, or maybe nausea? Either way, it was time to give him the news.

You stood up, placed the test in your back pocket and turned towards the bathroom mirror. Hesitantly, you looked at your reflection, trying to avoid the lower half of your body. You weren’t ready just yet to acknowledge the small amount of bloating your stomach had taken on this past week. However, you couldn’t help it when your hand popped up to hover over your abdomen as you thought about the possibility of carrying Josh’s child. You also couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at the corner of your lips.

After giving yourself a short pep talk, you exited the bathroom and slowly made your way down the hall to Josh’s studio, pausing at the open door. He was sitting at his desk, facing away from you, writing in his journal. Sunlight streamed into the room from the large bay window in front of the desk, illuminating the stray curls that crowned Josh’s head. No matter what he was doing, Josh somehow always managed to look like a literal angel.

He placed his pen down and turned towards you, a smile already stretched across his face. He must have felt your presence, you thought.

“Well hello there beautiful.”

“Hi baby,” you replied shyly.

“Well don’t just stand there, come here Birdie,” Josh chuckled, motioning to you to come sit on his lap.

You crossed the room and straddled Josh’s thighs, immediately lacing your fingers into the curls you had just been admiring. Josh sighed and softly kissed your lips.

“I definitely think I’ve done enough work today now that you’re here,” he said quietly into your lips.

You were tempted to get lost in Josh’s embrace, but knew you had to share the news before you lost the small amount of courage you had gathered in the bathroom.

“Actually, there is something I need to tell you…”, you replied quietly, slowly pulling back to look into Josh’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…”, you responded nervously.

“Okay, well lay it on me sweet cheeks,” Josh teased, slightly tickling your waist.

Before thinking on it too much, you grabbed Josh’s hand and placed it over the bulge in your back pocket. He felt around for a few seconds and paused before beginning to pull the stick out.

“A present?”, he asked, slight confusion showing on his face.

“You could say that…” you replied cautiously. You could feel your heart start to pound as Josh brought the test into his view.

Quickly realizing what it was, Josh’s body stilled. He stared at it with wide eyes for a what felt like a lifetime before he turned his attention back to you.

“Birdie…”, he finally said, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Are you…” Josh’s voice trailed off, looking at you expectantly.

You slowly nodded your head, not being able to find any words at the moment. You could see tears beginning to form in Josh’s eyes and a small smile spread across his lips.

“There’s a baby in there?”, Josh asked quietly, looking down at your stomach. “We…we made a baby?”

He put the test down onto the desk, and placed his hands on your waist, slowly rubbing circles on your stomach with his thumbs. “You’re pregnant?”, he asked quietly.

“It appears so,” you answered, feeling your voice wobble as tears threatened to fall from your own eyes.

Josh looked back up at you with a huge grin, a rogue tear sliding down his cheek.

“Birdie, we’re having a baby!”

You nodded your head again, a small giggle escaping your lips.

“Holy shit babe. We’re going to be parents!” Josh exclaimed, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulling you tightly against his chest. You felt a surge of joy course through your body seeing Josh’s very obvious excitement about the news.

“I honestly couldn’t love you more in this moment than I do right now,” Josh said breathlessly. He brought his hands up to cup your face. “Thank you mama,” he whispered, kissing your lips softly.

“I love you so much Josh,” you sighed, deepening the kiss.

Josh chuckled softly against your lips.

“What?”, you asked, pulling back.

“It’s nothing. I’m just so happy right now,” he answered, kissing his hand and placing it onto your belly. “And I am so happy to be your dad, little one…”, he spoke softly towards your stomach.

You placed your hands over his, feeling like your heart was going to burst with joy. In that moment, you knew that everything was going to be okay.

[kimi-twstheadcanons]

Wish List

-You decided to spend some time in the Queendom of Roses for the Holidays. Today you visit Riddle to see what he wants on his wish list. But there’s a problem...

Pronouns: They/them

Riddle’s dad seems nice enough, but it’s his mom you have to really worry about.

•

•

•

“Riddle! Do you have a wish list this year?” You ask excitedly to the red-haired boy sitting next to you at a table in his family study room. You had gone with him for a Holidays visit, leaving Grim with Deuce. You thought Deuce would be a better fit compared to Ace, and you didn’t want to disturb Trey and his family since they own a bakery. Cater doesn’t even live in the Queendom of Roses so he is completely out of the picture.

Riddle put the book he had been reading down and thought about your question for a moment before responding. “Well, usually my wish lists are-“

“Riddle! Oh, my darling boy, it's wonderful to see you again!” A woman exclaims in excitement as he strides in. Riddle immediately stands up to embrace her gently. You stare at the woman as you realize that the heart shape of her hair matches Riddles perfectly. That’s when it occurs to you that this elegantly dressed lady is Riddle's mother. A silent alarm goes off in your head as you begin to internally panic. You know what this lady did to Riddle. The trauma she caused him, her being overprotective, etc. You knew that as long as you were in her house you didn’t want to get her upset.

“How is school? Are you following the rules there? How are you doing as a dorm leader? You remain one of the top students, correct?” Mrs. Rosehearts questioned enthusiastically.

“Yes, mama. My grades remain top tier and my status as dorm leader of Heartslabyul continues to be unwavering.” Riddle beamed with pride.

“Excellent! That’s what I expect from my little Riddle!” Mrs. Rosehearts gushed. Her attention turned from her son to you. A questioning dark look in her eyes began to form as her excited expression fell to a more serious and observant one.

“Ah, and who might you be? I don’t remember ever hiring any help recently.” She spoke to you. Your eyes widen with shock. She had only been in the room for less than 5 minutes and was already insulting you. You hadn’t even mumbled a word yet!

“M-mother, this is (y/n). They are the prefect of Ramshackle, an older dorm at Night Raven College. They are a dear friend of mine.” Riddle explained gently. His mother continued to observe you like a hawk. No one she didn’t know has ever come into her house without her knowledge. Much less a person who claims to be Riddle’s “friend” without her ever meeting them.

“I see, and who approved of this visit?” She asked both you and Riddle.

“Father did,” Riddle replied, a drop of sweat falling down the side of his face. At this moment you decided to be polite and walk up to Mrs, Rosehearts with all the courage you could muster.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs, Rosehearts. Riddle has told me so much about you.” You smiled at her as you held your hand up for her to shake. However, she did not give you the pleasure of doing so and continued to stare at you.

“I’m sure he has. So tell me, how was your education growing up? Were you top of your classes as well?” She asked as she used her index finger to move your hand down. You pulled your hand away with a nervous smile. Trey had warned you about her cold attitude and you knew she wasn’t the nicest person when you saw Riddle's memories after his overblot fight, but you thought she’d at least grow nicer over the years.

“Well, I wouldn’t say top of my class. I’m pretty average but I make sure my grades always stay high and passing.” You explain in full truth. You aren’t willing to lie just to get on her good side. Mrs. Rosehearts scowls at your answer.

“You don’t wish to excel? Why would you hold yourself to such a low bar? Your parents must not have raised you correctly.” She spoke casually. You stand there, irritated with a smile, Riddle behind you in shock and embarrassment.

“I believe my parents raised me just fine, thank you, ma’am. They’ve always taught me to follow my dreams and do what I think is best to get there.” Mrs. Rosehearts laughs at your words. You look back at Riddle who had lowered his head in embarrassment, his bangs covering his eyes.

“If you want to live on the streets you do that! You can only get places through hard work and studying. I do hope you are not exposing my Riddle to that poor mindset.” You stand there trying to keep your composure and not pounce on this lady. It’s Riddle’s mom so of course, you’re trying to be respectful but clearly, this woman does not think you should deserve the same treatment. Mrs. Rosehearts shifts her attention from you to her son and reaches into her bag.

“Now Riddle, I have gathered a list of things you should have on your holiday wish list this year. Of course, I trust your list should already have most, if not, all of these.” She says as she hands Riddle a folded piece of paper. You walk over to look at the list as Riddle unfolds it. The list had names of things you don’t recognize.

“But mother, I already have three of the textbooks on here,” Riddle said without looking up at his mother.

“Those are outdated. The ones on this list are new and improved with more information and new education-based questions to check your knowledge. I expect you to be able to answer every single one of them without any help, understand?”

“Yes, mother,” Riddle replies to her begrudgingly. At that moment it hits you. Everything listed on the paper was textbooks and educational materials. Only things to study.

“Are there only textbooks on here? What about novels and storybooks? Creative literature can be very relaxing.” You recommend to Mrs. Rosehearts, to which she responded with another fit of laughter.

“Riddle, is this person serious? Goodness, you must really be a fool. Fairy tales are no good for a boy like Riddle. His wish list should only include what he needs, not what he wants.” She laughs. She looks you in the eyes, looking for anything that assures her that you were joking. The confusion and concerned look on your face told her you were not. The anger you felt, when she expressed that Riddle’s wish list shouldn’t have things he wanted, was too strong for words. Mrs, Rosehearts realized at that moment that you weren’t like her, you were more like those “hoodlum children” that made Riddle sneak out during his independent time when he was eight. That cat boy and baker boy that “tricked” Riddle into breaking her rules.

“And what he needs are good friends who make sure he succeeds and excels in all aspects. You, I can see now, are not that for him,” she started as her face dropped to something more serious. Riddle looked up as he realized what she was about to say. He knew he had to defend you if he wanted you to stay longer. He thought he could. He knew you were better than what she thought.

“Wait, mama please,”

“No, Riddle. I see now who this person is. You’re that mischievous child I heard mysteriously started to attend Night Raven College. You stay away from my son! Your terrible thought process and obvious lack of knowledge of your future will affect him and taint his mind! You don’t know what’s best for him!” She aggressively accused you with venom in her tone. You stand there in silent rage. But you had to keep it on the down low to keep anything bad from happening to Riddle.

“With all due respect, ma’am. I just believe that Riddle’s wish list should contain things that he, as a young boy, would want for himself to enjoy. He is mature enough to make his own wish list and make sure that whatever he asks for is not over the top or too distracting. He’s too intelligent for things like toys and such now,” You turn to Riddle who’s looking at you apologetically. You smile at him as you think up some things he likes to suggest to his mother.

“Maybe some crossword puzzles would be nice,” You suggest politely while still looking back at Riddle. This first suggestion makes his eyes light up, knowing you remember how much he enjoys crossword puzzles. You turn back to his mother to continue. “ or maybe-” You’re suggestions are cut short by his mother yelling at you.

“Enough! I will not stand here listening to you speak as if you know my son better than I do. I want you out of my house immediately!” She shouts at you before leaving the room. You blink for a moment, stunned that this rude woman was Riddle’s mother. You stand in place, livid at her behavior. You turn back to Riddle and quickly embrace him in a hug. He holds you tightly as he speaks.

“I’m so sorry. I was so sure she would approve of you. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Do not be sorry for actions that were not caused by you. But I think I should leave before her temper grows hotter than a volcano.” You suggest as the hug continues. Riddle nods and you both release each other from the embrace. Riddle gently leads you out of the study room and to the front door, careful to not catch his mother's attention. You hug each other one last time before you leave, but right before you could get too far from the door Riddle calls out to you. You turn around confused.

“If I were able to have one thing on my wish list, it would be to continue being your friend.” Hearing those words made you smile as brightly as the sun. You nod and wave to him as he waves back. He closes the front door and you continue your way to Trey’s parent's bakery. It was the closest place and you thought it would be good to grab a treat. You push the door open to the bakery and find Trey talking with Che’nya. They pause their conversation and look in your direction with welcoming smiles.

“Well, how did it go? Considering your back so soon, it wasn’t good, huh?” Trey asked. You sighed and grabbed a chair next to Che’nya to take a seat.

“You two were right. That woman has a twisted way of thinking. Like, I understand trying to look out for her son, but she’s just driving him away. I wouldn’t be surprised if Riddle cut off contact with her once he turns 25 and his mind finally processes the torment she put him through.” You blabbered on angrily as Trey and Che’nya just shook their heads.

“How can someone be so arrogant? “A wish list should be what he needs, not what he wants.” Pfft, why should it matter if he already has everything he needs?”

[asherlockstudy]

LMAOO!! ok I'm not gonna spoil the R&L video but plspls if you watch it tell us what you think!!

OKAY I have watched it twice now. It is obviously another symbolic work but the first time I was so dumbfounded by all the weirdness that I got like only a couple of symbolisms. The second watch was more fruitful. So let's get to it!

The Brown Diamond

First of all, the moment we got the title and the teaser I knew this would have potty humour and that, also, it would be about anal again.

The standing doggystyle in the beginning is fun but does not have a significance in the story. However, since the title is "The Quest for the Brown Diamond" it might be an attempt to create a subconscious connection between the two.

It is interesting that the very next scene sort of subverts the expectations formed from the previous one: Rhett is a very awkward and reserved, shy, gentle, intelligent man with many phobias, Horst, whereas Link is Sandy, a loud, crude, angry but good hearted man, with an established interest in women. They seem like total opposites of the characters they play, however there is truth hidden in them i.e Rhett is an introvert and he can be gentle and intelligent and Link can be angry and loud despite being a good person. I don't understand what was exactly the concept behind making the characters diverge so much from Rhett and Link in other aspects. Perhaps it was a red herring.

Whatever they said in the end, there is no more genuine statement of affection than "You look weird as hell...... but you always do".

Horst says he has this hair to have a form of natural shield and this might give as a hint as to why Rhett's character has so many phobias and puts up so many defenses; maybe it's about all the things he considered sinful and unacceptable when he was still in the faith.

The whole quest to essentially steal the diamond is Sandy's initiative and passion, while Horst simply follows because that's what he does, he follows Sandy. This might explain Sandy's assertiveness; by every allegorical work of theirs we have seen before it is implied again and again that Link (perhaps counterintuitively) was actually the pursuer of their relationship. Don't forget Carney in Friday's GMMore freaking saying that Link was Romeo between the two, whom Stevie had just described as an extrovert who pursued his relationship with Juliet! And that was the last episode before this video! Isn't all this...WILD? This also suggests that at this point a lot of the crew members know.

Horst opens tentantively the door and Sandy sarcastically says: "Look, Horst contributing already to the project!". They get in the mansion, where Sandy decides to rub himself on every single surface while Horst watches scandalized. The one time poor Horst tries to mimic Sandy, he realises he was trying to rub on a cherub which obviously kills his mood again. So this is likely about how much Link had to "throw himself out there" to make this work and how hesitant and scared Rhett was in the beginning.

By the way

Of course.

This gives me Rhett mixing his words flashback and saying "Link McLaughlin". Except this here is intentional. Then again someone could say best friends and branded business partners could do that too. However, with all the other stuff here, we can suspect this is not that simple of a case.

Horst pumps them both up with energizing food for the quest and it might be associated with the whole theme of the puzzle video, where it was implied they needed some... assistance in their first times. Sandy has to eat some seaweed, an experience he describes as "cunnilungus with the ocean" and Horst eats a sausage wrapped in bologna, which is the point where he breaks character a little, as Rhett apparently finds this too amusing! This all means that the energizing food scene though is heavily sex-coded.

After a straightTM moment, when Sandy builds up the courage to ask his ex-stepson (Tanner? Tunner?) if his mom still thinks about him, he starts looking for the diamond. He mentions he was looking at his Nana's drawers when he was young but then he asks this to be cut from the film as he doesn't want people to think that about him, which means this too is suspicious and in this case it probably implies he was exploring his feminine side. Ironically, this was also mentioned in the last GMMore, when Link asked for a few more years before he starts dressing like Miss Pingy...!

Meanwhile, Horst doesn't look for the diamond but gives as an empathetic, admiring, caring and loving description of Sandy. Yes, Sandy is frantic, angry, a brute but Horst sees through him and understands why he is the way he is. Sandy's childhood is similar to Link's to some extent.

Sandy follows and gives a shorter but emotional description of Horst: he stands out, he is a little weird but he is good and smart. Sandy also establishes he is protective of him and warns the stepson to not hurt Horst.

AND THEN OF COURSE THEY BROUGHT UP THE PUZZLE ARRYFFUJBIOGD Sandy even has a tattoo of the notorious puzzle piece, while Horst keeps it in his bracelet of things he fears and loves. (If you don't know what the deal with the puzzle is please read this).

Horst finds a guitar and starts playing a sweet song... so sweet that it is literally called

Sandy, much like real Link every time Rhett sings and plays music, stops his frantic search and listens hypnotized to Horst's playing. He joins him by the fireplace and they sing together. It is very sweet, very domestic. When the song ends, the silence between them is heavy and uncomfortable but full of warmth. Sandy asks Horst how he is feeling and Horst admits he is still scared. Sandy, pensive but respectful, decides that they should go, as apparently this whole thing isn't working out for them. He expresses regret for dragging Horst into this.

But, lo and behold! At the last moment, Horst finds a secret door and is suddenly the more excited one who reminds Sandy of their quest. In this secret room, they find a video recorded by the deceased owner of the mansion and the diamond, who gives instructions on how to get the diamond. The quest is bound to a riddle and this riddle IS THIS ONE:

To be shared between three, the heart must not be free but the damage is done if the heart is given to one.

Get it? If you have to give your heart to other two, your heart is not free, but then again when the heart is given to THE one only, that's when shit hits the fan (well literally in this video).

Can you believe it? Can you believe this is the story of these apparently extremely romantic middle-aged Southern youtubers?

The heart, the diamond, is of course inside Bahau moon, a three-ass artifact. Reminds of "the way to a woman's heart is through a worm's / woman's anus".

Sandy and Horst hear noises from upstairs and it appears Brandy, Horst's best friend at work, was trying to steal the diamond before them. And that is because Horst told her their secret as “he tells her everything”. What does Brandy symbolizes? Horst loves her a lot as a friend and keeps no secrets from her, Sandy is antagonistic to her. Sandy gets his hand in this ass first and competes with her for the diamond. Horst follows hesitantly again. They realise neither can win over the heart and all be happy. So Horst implores them to all lay off the heart diamond. In fact, Sandy has grabbed the heart and agrees to let it go only if Brandy promises to also not stick her hand to the ass again. Sorry for suggesting this...but can Brandy be a wife, like Jessie? Once they are all out of the Bahau moon and safe, Horst realises that his "phobias and loves" bracelet is dropped inside the artifact. He begs the other two to get inside the Bahau moon once more so he can retreive his bracelet. This might be associated to Rhett always having this pattern that he wants this to stop, to prevent it but then he is the one falling back to it (check Hazel where he tries to save Link but then Hazel takes him first and in the dig-a-hole video where he pulls Link out of his enjoyment only to later suggest a larger hole than Link did and drive the excavator himself). Horst really begs Brandy, tells her to do it for the sake of their “old good memories” together. This whole thing reminds me of that time Rhett was bringing up a lot that his marriage had gone through a milestone, that he and Jessie had had a very big and serious talk that changed but also supposedly “strengthened” their marriage. And then once Link let it slip that he was present during that serious talk of the couple, which one would expect would have happened privately.

Brandy betrays them, takes the brown diamond and leaves them. The Bahau moon starts releasing toxic gas. Sandy tells the camera man to save himself. The camera man still records Sandy and Horst's last moments from outside the window. As they are dying, they hold hands with their still free hand. Sandy asks forgiveness for everything but Horst does not hold anything against him. Before he takes his last breath, Sandy tells Horst he loves him. They die there, trapped forever. This ending resembles Hazel a lot, where they disappear forever in Hazel's forest. In Hazel, Link was also trying to tell Rhett he loves him before what he thought would be their last moments.

This gives the riddle another dimension, because in the end Sandy and Horst remain with their One, meaning each other, also stressed by the love confession, and this kills them. It is perhaps suggested that Brandy (a wife?) got her heart back and went on with her life, while they can't do the same. They stay trapped with the love that kills them.

And here's another ANON I got, I hope they read it cause I am answering here:

Thanks a lot for telling me!!! Yes it doesn't surprise me one bit. The ending is supposed to have that despair and melancholy of always staying trapped, hidden. Just like Hazel. Very interesting that it was braver before the cuts. Perhaps they thought it would make it too obvious? But, too little is obvious for A LOT of their fans, right? I also don't understand, do they actually want people to pick up on it after all, or not? They confuse me so much.

Unless the few of us still imagine all that stuff lol never in my life before have I seen friends act like that but the funniest thing is that I haven't seen people in love act like that either! Will we get an autobiography from them in the distant future, I wonder? Because we should.

[tempo-tales]

In the next scenary, Elicia sees in a dark corridor that is appearing for every step she takes and hears noises. And in the background she sees a child, a boy of 6 or 7 years old, with curly hair and round eyes. The woman tries to recognize the little boy's face and sees that he is her little brother, Nicolás, who was sneaking a peek at someone. Elicia sees who is in that room and recognizes that person...herself, at 17 years old.

Elicia was on her bed checking her cell phone with the music on full blast. The boy felt uncomfortable and shy at first, he took a breath from his nose and exhaled to get up the courage to at least talk to his older sister. The little boy approaches her, with small, slow steps and shyly squeezing his hands trying to look at Eli's face.

-

"Sis, mom says turn the music down. The customers are uncomfortable, she says."

"Not my problem. Now go away." Eli didn't even take her eyes off the phone to look at the little child.

"No." Spontaneously the child stares at Eli without moving even a finger.

"Are you deaf?"

"You're not my mom."

"No, but I'm your sister and you're in my room, so get out." Eli was losing patience at the sight of the little boy looking at her and expecting her to comply with their mother's command.

"I won't if you don't do what mommy said."

Elicia gets up from her bed and grabs the boy from his jacket. The boy begins to cry in pain and their mother listens to her children as she tended the store.

"Not again... my girl, mind the store please."

"Yes ma'am."

The mother runs to the second floor and sees the children. The mother stops her daughter angrily taking the child from her arms.

"Eli! Stop it!"

"You stop it!"

"That's no way to treat your brother like that."

"Not to me it isn't!" Eli discriminates her point of view towards little Nicolás, who hurts every time he hears that point of view from his sister.

"Whether you like it or not, it is. I had them both inside me, and not even you are going to deny that truth." The mother exclaims as she puts down the child that was in her arms.

"Oh yes? I understand that Ali and I are daughters of different fathers and now this child? And now what? Do I have to bear another man's child and so on...?"

Her mother, Rosario, slaps her tall 1.71mt daughter with an open palm. Rosario loves her children and this would be her first time raising her hand to one of them, which hurt like a knife in her chest. The hit left Eli perplexed, realizing the hurtful words that came out of her mouth towards her mother, a woman who has never stopped loving Eli, Nicolás and the missing Ali.

"Eli...I don't..." The mother was trembling all over her body, especially her hands, noticing her regret for that action.

Eli without looking at her mother's eyes runs to her room, leaving the door closed and the volume at maximum. Rosario could not stand it any longer and stood next to the closed door, crying, and her little son consoling her without understanding the situation.

Elicia, spectator of that memory, opens a hidden wound in her heart and confesses her guilt.

"I'm the worst...I hurt mom's feelings...she's never raised her hand to me like that for as long as I can remember." The woman squeezes her chest, still latent that hurt.

"Those words are not the way to use, especially to judge a mother..Mothers like she, don't deserve to be treated that way. After all you did, you broke both of our hearts and it takes time to heal...such is the love connection between mother and child." Balan appears at Elicia's side and she is no longer even surprised by his appearances.

"I know. That's why I locked myself in my room and my heart...so I wouldn't hurt her again."

"Eli..."

Elicia goes to her mother and brother and pulls out of the little boy's jacket pocket a watch piece.