#I mean this is all purely judging by the languages the signs are in

[yurislotusgarden]

Relationship hc's

ʚїɞ Nakahara Chuuya x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ Dazai's version

ʚїɞ word count: 1425

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, pet names are used, reader’s gender is not specified in any way

ཐིཋྀ I love this man

ཐིཋྀ Anyway

ཐིཋྀ We all know he would be a gentleman to you <3

ཐིཋྀ Whether you live together or not, there's always a bouquet of your favorite flowers in a vase somewhere. Once they show even a small sign of dying he replaces them

ཐིཋྀ You still aren't sure how he knows about the flowers starting to wilt even when he's in another part of Japan or even another fucking country

ཐིཋྀ This man does both fancy and casual types of dates. Prefers fancy ones tho

ཐིཋྀ "Why have so much money and not use it to spoil the shit out of the love of my life?" <--- Chuuya wanting to spoil the fuck out of you all the time

ཐིཋྀ You probably live together after quite a short amount of time, like less than 8 months kind of short

ཐིཋྀ He's just so worried about your safety :(

ཐིཋྀ Both generally and because of his position as an executive

ཐིཋྀ You don't mind tho, don't lie to yourself

ཐིཋྀ Protective. Not overprotective but it's definitely up there on the scale. Kinda justified though

ཐིཋྀ Possessive mf

ཐིཋྀ Again, you don't mind as it's not to the point of being controlling and shit

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM, he still worries, just a little less since he knows you can take care of yourself

ཐིཋྀ If you're not an executive, you work under him for sure. Chuuya requested a change (if you weren't under him from the start) as soon as he realized this funny feeling he gets around you is love <3

ཐིཋྀ You know Dazai. No questions asked or doubt

ཐིཋྀ I saw around some time ago that someone wrote that Dazai breaks into wherever Chuuya lives. I’m sure it ain’t canon so just saying I very much hc him doing that

ཐིཋྀ You can see what I’m getting at, you probably met because of Dazai breaking into your guys' place😭

ཐིཋྀ Imagine you're cooking or something and hear someone in the house (Dazai doesn't try to hide he's there since he thinks Chuuya's home because of the light in the kitchen), thinking it's Chuuya you go to greet him before realizing  it's not him but someone else-

ཐིཋྀ "Who are you and why are you here?"

ཐིཋྀ "Those should be my questions asshole!"

ཐིཋྀ "The fuck you mean?"

ཐིཋྀ "I live here? You literally broke into my house!"

ཐིཋྀ "You live here? But it's the slugs house isn't it? Did I break into the wrong place???" He knows he didn't

ཐིཋྀ "Wait 'slugs'-"

ཐིཋྀ You totally didn't realize who Dazai is because of that nickname, nope. Chuuya didn't complain about a mackerel at all no-

ཐིཋྀ That was literally yall's first convo

ཐིཋྀ Dazai standing like he should be there, and you standing there with a gun pointed at him (that you have from Chuuya because he has weapons all over the house just in case anyway. That one was in the kitchen)

ཐིཋྀ You guys proceeded to talk like you guys knew each other for years until the ginger came home and flipped the fuck out at the sight

ཐིཋྀ He thought you would have a peaceful life by not knowing the stack of bandages

ཐིཋྀ And to the gingers' chagrin, you and the brunette ended up being good friends

ཐིཋྀAs to who knows about yall depends on who you are

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM, most if not all will know at some point

ཐིཋྀ Mori would probably not do anything about it as long as it doesn't affect your guys' performance on missions

ཐིཋྀ If you're a civilian, the people who know about you are the people he's the closest to and Mori somehow finds out

ཐིཋྀ Kouyou adores you if you share at least some interests and you don't mind being friends with mafiosos (basically not judging them just because of their work)

ཐིཋྀ You guys drink tea together. Even if you don't like tea, she managed to find one that you like

ཐིཋྀ Even if you don't share interests, she will have nothing against you as long as you ain't hurting Chuuya

ཐིཋྀ Akutagawa siblings know for sure, you basically adopted them LMAO

ཐིཋྀ You and Gin go shopping together, sometimes tugging Ryu around against his will with yall

ཐིཋྀ I mentioned Mori, he at first didn't care if the relationship didn't change anything and Chuuya was as efficient as normally

ཐིཋྀ But Elise met you in the city by accident and decided she likes you and deemed you her friend, so Moto “asked” you to play with her from time to time

ཐིཋྀ Goodluck if you're a low-energy person

ཐིཋྀ If you're in the PM and Elise wants to Play with you, you are for sure a little bit safer around Mori

ཐིཋྀ He doesn't want to deal with her whining and throwing a tantrum if he doesn't have to, so if you not being killed will make Elise happy, he won't do it

ཐིཋྀ Going back to the topic

ཐིཋྀ Rides on his motorcycle with you holding him tightly from behind right?

ཐིཋྀ Mf rides faster than necessary just because he likes it when you squeeze his waist because you think you will fall off

ཐིཋྀ He won't let you but oh well

ཐིཋྀ Similar to Dazai, man has got a grip of steel, so good luck getting up from his lap, cuddling, or in the morning if he won't want you to. We all know he ain’t weak, not in the slightest

ཐིཋྀ Would teach you self-defense if you don't already know it. He for sure doesn’t complain at having to do that, the view he gets is quite pretty y’know? You can say the same about your view :)

ཐིཋྀ This is purely a hc of mine but he would teach you French if you will ask him!!!

ཐིཋྀ Yes I'm one of those who hc that Chuuya either generally knows French due to Kouyou teaching him and Dazai, or he has some French genetics and wanted to just learn it either way taught by Kouyou LMAO

ཐིཋྀ Hope you aren’t weak to French because he can and will flirt with you in it <3

ཐིཋྀ If you are tho, knees? Weak. Nonexistent. Goodbye.

ཐིཋྀ Mister here will use it to his advantage. He knows what he’s doing and he ain’t stopping

ཐིཋྀ If you know a language he doesn't, he will gladly learn it just to speak in it with you. Especially if you're a foreigner, he certainly will learn your native tongue at one point. But, if you know a language he doesn't just because you wanted to know it, he learns it anyway

ཐིཋྀ Another way to shit-talk people without their knowledge <33

“I'm so lucky to be dating your pretty ass”

“I don't understand, doll. Say it in a language I can understand.”

“No, I don't think so, pretty boy”

“Are you cussing me out or something?”

ཐིཋྀ ^You talking to Chuuya in your language before he knew it to confuse him

ཐིཋྀ He was indeed confused

ཐིཋྀ Speaking of hc’s, heterochromia Chuuya <3

ཐིཋྀ You love his eyes, one blue and one brown. You fluster him because of just staring at his eyes and at him generally

ཐིཋྀ He lets you play with his hair, style, and all

ཐིཋྀ It's so soft you considered stealing his hair stuff when you first run your hands through it

ཐིཋྀ He wouldn't mind, wouldn't even try to stop you. Would probably encourage it actually

ཐིཋྀ It's playing into his possessiveness 

ཐིཋྀ This man has style, we know that. He also happens to have a big closet with his clothes :)

ཐིཋྀ Want a Chuuya-looking puddle on the floor? Wear. His. Clothes.

ཐིཋྀ The ginger will literally die if he comes home to you wearing his clothes. Anything. Wear anything and you will spot a wild Chuuya puddle in its natural habitat the floor

ཐིཋྀ AND IF YOU ASK HIM IF YOU CAN WEAR HIS STUFF WHILE EMBARRASSED???

ཐིཋྀ You make him want to sob :(

ཐིཋྀ Happily of course

ཐིཋྀ Use his shower stuff like shampoo and walk around in his clothes

ཐིཋྀ It does things to him

ཐིཋྀ Both fluffy and unholy thoughts are in this man's head if you’re just wearing his stuff

“Doll, you can’t do this to me.”

“Huh?”

ཐིཋྀ You’re either genuinely confused by his words or playing with him

ཐིཋྀ It ends the same anyways :) 

ཐིཋྀ “Take my card and go crazy, love.”

ཐིཋྀ ^Chuuya on any occasion

ཐིཋྀ If he could he would spend his money on you, he would but you always stop him

ཐིཋྀ Therefore that’s Chuuya on any occasion because he has an excuse for it

ཐིཋྀ Price tag? What’s that?

ཐིཋྀ It doesn’t exist in his eyes, you are worth every single penny in his wallet <3

ཐིཋྀ You guys have spa days at home

ཐིཋྀ Share skin care routines if you can

Notes, comments, reblogs and anything else is greatly appreciated

[seungwooningforyou]

P1Harmony Soul as your boyfriend tarot

Note: This is not only purely for entertainment, I'm very very new to tarot! (But not new to spiritualism!) My readings are in a sense open ended and aren't meant to be taken as anything other than me speculating and having fun! :) Requests open btw!

This one is a mix of both cute and sad ): (i'll go through all the members, youngest to older unless requested to do others first!)

Knight of Cups • Three of Swords • Three of pentacles

Knight of cups tells me Soul is very creative when it comes to dates, and they have meaning too! Mentioned you like painting? Finger-painting date. Told him you like his rings? Welding class together. Mentioned you liked cooking? Already dragging you to the store with him to buy food so you can cook. This is his love language, letting you know he listens.

Three of pentacles is telling me that he sometimes puts his career over you.. but then I look at the knight of cups and completely disregard that. I think he takes you to where he works. Letting you in the dance studio, showing you around FNC ent, showing his favorite weird little hiding spot to get away from Intak, he likes this. He likes you to see both sides of him. Shota and Soul.

This one hurts bro. Three of swords is telling me deep down Soul is so scared. Scared of being judged and left alone. He possibly has a past (either romantic or platonic) of someone in his life leaving him because they deemed him 'too much' and it eats at him. He needs reassurance, letting him know you like him just the way he is. Sometimes he might become insecure of clingy due to this fear and the best thing to do is comfort him.

Overall, Soul wants you to accept him as he is. He wants you see all sides of him because to him that's the ultimate sign of trust. Once he's comfortable and trusts you enough and you start dating, he does his upmost best to show you he loves you :)

Deck used: The Wooden Tarot Deck

Time and date done: 12/30/2022 1:51AM

[cee-grice]

it is blorbo thursday once again and y'all know what that means

continuing on from last post (found here), introducing you to the rest of the project's team ✨

The Research Team (part 2)

Rey Aukatesh

a geneticist from Edkava (same country as Endra), him and his wife Onna are the only specialists invited to participate in the project from overseas

a very adept charm magic user

probably the most relaxed out of everyone, there not for the prestige but for the novelty

is only on his wife's side <3 follows her commands unconditionally <3

perpetually either amused or perplexed. just there to have a good time really

WILL throw anyone (besides his wife<3) under the bus if it'll get him (or his wife<3) what he wants

unbothered king

33ish, fair-skinned, slicked back dirty blond hair, wears simple, practical clothing, loves rings

"<...> No offense, Quilin—can I call you Quilin? You all here can be so strange with these titles—but you like to focus too much on the, ah…” He swayed his head from side to side. “Flashy stuff. Not very practical. You know?” He caught Mistress Aukateshka’s eye who twisted her face this way and that. He giggled. “Onnashka says you have too much money. That’s why.”

Onna Aukateshka

also a geneticist from Edkava but specializing more in venemagik genetics

also a very adept charm magic user

there to get shit done, can get very intense in her pursuits

would absolutely do highly unethical human experimentation if laws allowed it

(not that that can stop her, really)

with that said. she's definitely eyeing Quil and his patchwork of a body

almost entirely deaf, communicates with Rey either via sign language or telepathy (worth noting that prolonged telepathic links are infamously difficult to pull off. they're just that skilled at it)

has 0 patience for bullshit (mostly Rey's lol)

34ish, the tallest in the room, has long strawberry blonde curls, pretty conventionally attractive in general, also wears quite simple and practical clothing

“See, you do need me,” Master Aukatesh cooed in Edkavan. Mistress Aukateshka glared at him. With aggressive vigor, she signed, “He needs you” followed by a word Quil didn’t understand but, judging by the indecent symbols, probably meant something along the lines of ‘fucker’.

Erion Varkoir

a professor at the Academy, teaches theory on magia's physicality

was Quil's professor for a few years as well, and has Beef with him because Quil had uh. a tendency to question authority in inventive ways which some of the faculty members didn't appreciate lol

for the first few weeks of them working together on the project managed to entirely avoid acknowledging Quil's presence. kinda impressive honestly

(see when Quil has a problem with someone he talks shit to them instead of ignoring them. this guy though has way more self-control lmfao)

mostly just trying to do his work in peace (it's unsuccessful)

68ish (ha old), long grey hair that's usually pulled back too tightly, frown lines instead of smile lines lol, wears unusually colorless for the region robes

“You object, Erion?” “More so that I am… concerned,” he said, slow. “Bar your apprentice, d'Alisso is the youngest amongst us here, and his experience speaks to it. Would it not be more fitting for him to observe and assist instead of lead?” Behind all that politeness, Quil could almost hear the unspoken 'with all due respect, but fuck him'. It was far from unexpected, and so Quil managed to control himself from glowering.

taglist (lemme know if you wanna be added/removed): @writerfae, @tate-lin, @iriswords, @sternenmeerkind, @thecrookedwriterspath, @pure-solomon, @moonshinemagpie, @arowanaprincess, @scribe-of-stories, @thesorcerersapprentice, @stuffaboutwriting, @doriians, @sam-glade

[ukulelegodparent]

I really want to go on a train ride with a person who is super into trains some time I'd learn so much and I'd be so happy to learn it. They should have like info pamphlets about the trains in them that would be so fun

[notchesandbullets]

Pure Affections Wrapped Up in a Dark Green Bow (Husband!Pro-Hero!Bakugou x Wife!Reader)

Art credit: @/gaysony on Instagram

Warnings: suggestive themes (there’s one steamy kiss and innuendoes sprinkled throughout), nudity (not sexual), fluff, cursing, injuries, hurt/comfort, soft!domestic!Bakugou and heartwarming present. 

Synopsis: You had been married to Bakugou for a couple years now and you had a special present for him. But when he gets home, it’s clear that he hasn’t had the best day. You’re there, steady and strong for him to lean on for support and he does until he’s capable of standing on his own again. This is what love looks like.

Words: 6k

The door to your flat slammed closed, signaling that your husband was home, and you wiped your grimy hands on your dirt-streaked cargo pants. You grabbed something and jumped on the counter, shoving it in a cabinet before closing it. Double checking to make sure you couldn’t see it, you leaped down, quelling your excitement as you sped out of the kitchen.

But your rapid footsteps faltered when Bakugou came into sight, looking absolutely drained. 

He dropped his duffle bag on the floor without a care and kicked off his shoes, never looking up once. 

“Katsuki?” 

Your soft voice brought him back down to reality and he sighed heavily, gripping the roots of his ash-blond hair in frustration. When he finally glanced up, his garnet eyes were laced with exhaustion. 

But everything melted away the instant he saw you.

Engine oil smudged on your cheeks, Bakugou refrained from snorting at the sight of your muddied cargo pants and stained, white tank top. You sure were a sight for sore eyes even when tinkering with your support items commissioned for big-time heroes like him.

“Hi.” You giggled as he dumped the rest of his stuff to the ground, closing the distance in between you two in three large strides.

You frowned as you noticed a slight limp in his gait but you didn’t get a chance to question it. Bakugou didn’t waste any time, trapping you in his arms and crushing your form to his chest.

He grunted his hello, but his eyes were soft and his smile was fond as he drew back slightly. He might’ve grown since his hot-headed days in high school as you helped him express his emotions but that didn’t mean all his ticks went away.

You just held him as his head plopped on your shoulder, sensing where his distress and aggravation was stemming from.

“Bad day?” You asked sympathetically, looping your arms around his neck so that you could card your fingers through his spiky hair.

He snorted but his fingers tightened from where they were gripping your waist. “Like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”

It was awful. He had gotten called away on a mission only to find out that his people mixed up who he was going up against and had given him skewed intelligence. He would’ve fucked them up for a mistake like that if it wasn’t for that column that landed on his leg and trapped it. He was fortunate that Recovery Girl had made a special trip to see him or else he would still be in the hospital. 

You smiled sympathetically at the bite in his tone and pressed a kiss to his temple in an effort to calm him. “You want to talk about it?”

Bakugou shook his head no. All that could come later, right now, he just wanted to to hold you in his arms. Because when he did, it was like all was right with the world.

You didn’t press the issue. Instead, after coaxing him to stand on his own two feet so that you weren’t dragging his weight around the complex, you led him to your shared bedroom.

“C’mon, bathtime.” You encouraged softly.

Bakugou didn’t fight you as you guided him into the simplistic yet modern bathroom and he lifted his arms up as you tapped his wrists to indicate what you wanted him to do so that you could take his shirt off. 

You turned around so he could strip the rest of the way and started to run the bath. You left the lights off on purpose so that the harshness of it wouldn’t hurt his eyes. Instead, the window provided natural light. 

Adding a couple bath salts and essential oils (even though he claimed he hated the way it smelled) to aid in his relaxation, you adjusted the temperature of the water to chanced a glance back at the man draped over you. Your brow furrowed and a frown pinched the edge of your mouth as he leaned against you more than usual. He was more hurt than he was letting on.

Slinging his heavy arm around your shoulder, you supported him and helped him into the tub. He had already undressed the rest of the way but your brow furrowed as he struggled to lift his left leg. Eventually, you were able to lower him without a problem and you grinned triumphantly at the feat accomplished but it went unnoticed by your husband.

Bakugou frowned tiredly when you didn’t follow him in. 

“Come here.” He rasped, his voice heavy and laced with a burden he didn’t want to voice.

Your expression softened but you shook your head. You were so dirty from working in your workshop. If anything, you needed a shower. He could soak by himself and then come eat dinner when he was ready and up for it.

But Bakugou tugged on your hand, insisting. 

“I don’t give a shit.” He growled lowly. “Get in here, dumbass.”

Shaking your head at his crude language, you squeaked when he yanked you towards him. Your breath caught in your throat as he was now an inch away from your face, his hot exhales mingling with your gasp of surprise. 

“You’re not asking, are you?” You sighed dramatically but smiled to let him know that you were just kidding. “Alright, give me a second.”

As soon as you took your clothes off, you clambered in the bath with him, facing him because you didn’t trust him not to try anything in this state where you were both nude. 

He wrinkled his nose, giving away his displeasure as you stayed an arm’s length away from him but you didn’t care and urged him to scoot forward so that you could start to clean him. 

Bakugou hissed as your nails dragged against his scalp. “Taking a damn bath is fucking dirty.”

“The water gets so fucking disgusting.” He scowled, huffing scornfully when he saw how brown the water was turning already.

You shrugged, focusing on a patch of particularly rough sediment clinging to his chest. 

Bakugou took this moment of peace in time to observe the way your brow furrowed in concentration, how your nose flared and your lips pursed. 

You hardly ever let him watch you at work in the shop, giving him a shitty excuse that he distracted you or some shit.

Fucking lame. 

You were a vision when you were working on things that you were passionate on. He could watch you for hours and never get tired. He actually had, on several occasions, had gotten in trouble with his PR team more than once because he skipped or forgotten about a press conference meant to boost his publicity.

Not that he really needed more. If anything, as a top ten hero, he needed less.

All he wanted was to lay in bed and fall asleep with you in his arms. Was it too much to ask for that of the world? To give him an uneventful night of peace where he wasn’t called away to work, to be able to wake up with you in the morning when the sun rose above the skyline and greet you with breakfast in bed instead of a scrawled note that told you how much he loved and missed you since he couldn’t stick around. 

You never minded. You never complained about the hardships once.

You knew that when you agreed to marry him you knew exactly what you were signing up for. And you never regretted it.

Sure, the days were hard. You had work and friends to keep you more than occupied but at the end of the day, it boiled down to commitment and how much you loved him. That wasn’t to say that waiting was easy, not at all.

Because everyday you had to worry about whether or not he would make it home that night. Whether he was eating properly and getting enough rest. How every time you turned on the news you held your breath as you flicked through the channels, hoping and praying that your husband wouldn’t be on the front of those stories that broadcasted the death of a hero for the whole nation to see. 

But he was worth it. He was worth your unconditional love for him and every single moment of waiting. You would always wait for him because there was no one else you’d rather be with.

Bakugou almost fell asleep in the tub as you bathed him without being prompted. Normally, he's have some kind of irritation flashing through him as he was forced to endure your loving touch that he absolutely did not need. Or treasure.

Or was the only thing he was able to think of when you tended to him with the utmost care.

Fuck.

He had learned fairly early on in your marriage that being vulnerable didn't not constitute the same as being weak in his definition. But it got easier as time passed and he saw that you would be the last person on earth to judge him or think less of him because of his limitations. 

It had taken a while but eventually you broke down those high walls of his, embracing him in the midst of the maze he had built up around his heart to protect himself and kissed the top of his head as he leaned down. 

You got him. All of him. 

There was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than by your side. 

Bakugou’s head lolled back against the backsplash as your nails scratched against his scalp.

He exhaled deeply. “Fuck, that feels good.” 

You fought back a cheeky smile. You knew him well and all of his weak spots.

Bakugou’s eyes fluttered closed as you continued to clean him. Usually, he would insist you turn around and relax so that he could take care of you but all the energy was sapped out of him. He was lucky he had someone like you to sit here with him after a shitty day, not ask any questions, but just simply be with him. 

You squeaked in surprise when he suddenly brought you in for a hug and you blushed a rosy red when he nuzzled unabashedly into the valley of your breasts.

“Katsuki!!” You exclaimed in shock, your fingers winding in his hair when he didn’t let you go. Your eyes shot open when he tugged you into his lap. He was never this forward and he usually waited a good couple hours to initiate any kind of physical contact after a rough day at work.

Today must have been particularly bad. 

“Thank you.” Bakugou grunted, the voiced appreciation coming out muffled from where he was attached to your chest.

Gaze softening, understanding filled your eyes and you gently kissed the top of his head. “You’re welcome.”

Discreetly, you grabbed the soap to finish his bath, sudsing yourself in the process. Bakugou didn’t complain once as the water turned dark with dirt, even though he was barking about it earlier, simply basking in your presence and breathing you in while you took care of him.

He toweled off first, per your insistence since you still needed to wash your hair.

As soon as you dried off, you gestured for him to hand you the antibiotic so that you could get to work on those cuts of his. He protested the entire time.

“This doesn’t even hurt, why do you have to put a fucking—”

Bakugou broke off with a hiss of pain as you pressed down slightly harder than you needed to in order to emphsize your point.

“Katsuki…” You warned, your eyes blatantly telling him not to fight you on this or else he’d regret it. He got it rather quickly.

“Yeah, yeah,” He mumbled, averting his eyes. “Fine. Do your fucking shit or whatever.”

You weren't thrown off by the indifferent tone in his voice. He needed to know that you weren’t going anywhere. 

He always got agitated anytime he got hurt. It was only natural for someone who grew up thinking they had to be strong all the time.

Gently pressing down on his thigh, you paid special attention to when he winced.

“It’s just bruised.” You threw him a pointed glance, knowing what he was going to deny. “Recovery Girl came by?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou hissed under his breath. “Shitty nerd called her before I could say a damn word.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well thank goodness for that because everybody knows you would screw that up.”

“Oi.” He growled at your snark. “Not fucking funny.”

You grinned. “Wayyyy funny.”

Your smile faded as you continued to patch him up, inspecting him thoroughly to make sure you hadn’t missed anything. He had a tendency to hide how bad his injuries were and although you could understand why, you didn’t appreciate the times he was literally knocking on death’s door and would die if he didn’t receive medical attention.

Those times, you weren’t all that forgiving.

Gesturing to his leg that he had been favoring since he came home, you arched an eyebrow in silent questioning. 

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.”

You crossed your arms over your chest but didn’t push it. He could still walk on it so it was probably fine. His pride was probably what was hurt more. Either that or the mission had gone bad and he had been too late.

Swallowing harshly, you knew not to cross that line. 

As the two of you exited the bathroom, you left behind the tense atmosphere and relaxed as you stepped back into the living area, making your way to the kitchen with great difficulty as Bakugou peppered kisses to your neck in a wordless thanks for helping him.

And the instant you arrived in the kitchen, you sprang away from him.

“Surprise!!” You shouted excitedly, waving your hands at the simple meal set up at the table. 

There was a single cinnamon and spice candle that sat in the center of the white tablecloth. He never was one for extravagance but you put in a little extra effort today.

At his silence, your arms dropped and you played with your fingers nervously, thinking that he didn’t like it. Or maybe that he found it annoying and just wanted to be left alone and now he would have to eat dinner with you.

You started to ramble as you began to panic. “I-I thought we could do something nice, since it’s your birthday, and I know since the pandemic, things have been really hard on you guys so I thought it would be nice to relax and—”

You cut off with a squeak as he swept you up into his arms and off your feet, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Cheeks flushing bright red, your stammering came to a halt as he let out a shaky exhale against your heated skin.

“Thanks.” 

It came out quieter than his usual volume, taking you by surprise, but you still heard it nonetheless.

You didn’t tease him. Maybe later when he could handle it, but not now. 

Stroking his hair comfortingly, you grounded him in reality before guiding him to sit at the table. He had tried to hide how happy he was from you but he couldn’t. Not one bit.

You knew him too well.

Letting him rest his feet, knowing he must’ve been standing and running around all day to correct mistakes, defeat villains and save people.

You moved to go sit down on the opposite side of the table like you normally everyday at dinnertime but the arm locked around your waist stopped you.

Glancing back quizzically, you yelped as Bakugou pulled you down into his lap, pressing your back flush against his broad chest.

He didn’t say anything, and if you had to guess, you figured that his brow was probably furrowed in annoyance and his mouth was pressed in a thin line at indulging in something as simple as your company and affection, but you could let him have this.

He deserved it after all. 

Twisting around, you planted a gentle kiss to his jaw, raising a hand up to tilt his face down towards you.

“Happy birthday, Katsuki.” You breathed, eyes shining with emotion. 

Two years. It had been two years since he demanded that you marry him. You couldn’t believe it when he asked you. 

Unlike most couples, you two hadn’t dated much at all. Your first date was a home-cooked meal at his apartment that he shared with Kirishima at the time, a day before the wedding. 

Your friends were shocked, to say the least. 

But you two were close. You might not have dated like how many people would classify it, but the two of you knew each other better inside out for most of your lives and was often the first one called whenever there was a villain incident that the other had gotten hurt in. 

Bakugou hadn’t cared that the public knew about you. He had originally wanted to keep it a secret so that you were better off in terms of safety-wise, but you had nothing to hide, telling him to let them try. 

They wouldn’t break you.

Your relationship might’ve seemed rushed to some, frantic and panicked, but it couldn’t be more off from the truth. 

The thing was, you just knew. You knew that if it was going to be anyone, if you could see yourself with one person for the rest of your life, it would be with him. 

No one else even came close. 

But you were still surprised when Bakugou admitted the same, just in fewer words. 

After going through everything, the USJ incident where you had gotten hurt taking a hit from the Nomu for him, the kidnapping where he was ripped away right in front of your eyes, to where he was the one to finally be able to rescue you during a break-in at Heights Alliance, he just knew.

Like you, after risking your lives for each other countless times and finding solace in each other after it was all said and done meant a lot. Meant more than he could put into words. 

You squeaked as the arms around you tightened out of the blue, concern filling your gaze as you leaned back into his chest. 

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, your small hands covering his on your waist as you sank into his embrace, tilting your head up so that you could see him clearly.

Bakugou’s vermilion eyes snapped towards you as he was broken out of his reminiscing. He grunted in your direction, internally wincing at how short he was being with you even if you didn’t even seem to mind. 

His wistful smile transformed into a full-blown smirk as you grabbed a piece of korean barbeque off of his plate and popped it in your mouth. 

Bakugou’s breath tickled your ear as he leaned forward and his low voice, though rough with exhaustion, held a touch of amusement. “I saw that, dumbass.” 

You blinked up innocently at him, kicking your feet childishly and he shook his head, pinching your side in retaliation. You jumped and smacked his chest, blushing deeply as a chuckle reverbated against your back. 

“Katsuki!!”

“Fucking dumbass.” He muttered into your hair, unconsciously catching a whiff of the coconut and pineapple shampoo you used. You smelled even sweeter than usual, it was dulling his senses. But he was not complaining. 

You smiled to yourself, snuggling into his warmth. It was quiet moments like this when there was nothing else but the company of him surrounding you and the ambiance of a safe place that you loved the most.

Heart at ease, you were surprised to hear that his heartbeat matched yours. 

Your teeth worried into your bottom lip cheekily and before he could tease you any further, you redirected his attention to his mostly untouched plate, insisting that he eat.

Bakugou was generally pretty good about staying on top of meals and eating healthy to balance out all the exercise he got working as a hero, but lately things had hit him hard and he had been slacking off more than usual.

You were quick to catch it before it got too bad though. 

Bakugou’s eyes shimmered with a hint of unspoken emotion. He was so lucky to have you.

Moving to get up so that you could get your food from across the table, you gasped as his arms squeezed around your midsection, preventing you from leaving.

“Don’t leave.” Bakugou muttered, his brow furrowed as a hint of a pout appeared on his face. 

You giggled softly at his childish antics. “I’ll be right back.”

He could be so clingy sometimes, not that you were complaining. You were just as bad. There was something about being in his embrace and letting him hold you that made you feel safe, made you feel like you were at home.

Although it was rare and far in between, he did occasionally let you cuddle him. It had taken a while into your marriage for his walls to come crumbling down, but once they did, you never once made fun of him for what he needed or asked for. 

Pouting when your beloved husband didn’t let you free, you blinked up at him with doe eyes.

You wiggled in his lap when he still didn’t release you. “Katsuki—”

“No.” He growled stubbornly. 

You sighed, trying to appear as disheartened as possible. “But I’m hungry.”

“You can eat my fucking food, dumbass.” Bakugou huffed.

Folding your arms over your chest stubbornly, you frowned. He wasn’t going to eat the food you made? Even after going all day without eating his meals?

Oh hell no. 

You squirmed in his lap, now trying to pry his unyielding grip off so that you could reach your own plate that was probably cold by now on the other side of the table. 

“Katsuki, please?” You pleaded and his frown faltered.

Why did you have to be so damn cute? It wasn’t fair.

While he was distracted, you swiped your plate from across the table and settled back into his lap cheekily, sighing contentedly as he was left in a stunned silence.

“Oi, what the fuck?”

You giggled, waving your chopsticks at him. “What the matter, Katsuki? Cat got your tongue?”

He glared at you but it faded as you laughed harder and he found a small smile lifting up the edges of his mouth.

Dinner consisted of light banter back and forth as he stuffed the food you had made in his mouth, begrudgingly admitting that it tasted good when you eagerly asked.

He tapped your hip to get you to stop squirming once you finished eating but you retorted that he was taking too long. 

He needed to finish, you had something to give him. 

Bakugou arched an eyebrow and purposefully went slower until you smacked his arm with an indignant cry at his audacity. He barked out a laugh, his chest shaking as you pushed out your bottom lip at him childishly.

“Fucking brat.” He muttered fondly and you beamed at the soft tone he took on.

“You love me~” You sang, pecking his cheek.

“Go die.” He hissed, attitude back faster than you could blink.

You insisted that he finish his meal before you revealed what you were holding back from him. 

Bakugou wasn’t going to admit that the curiosity was eating away at him as you dangled the unknown of his head like something to be played with and he was almost ashamed at how he quickened his pace.

Almost.

He didn’t react when you clambered off of his lap but his eyes widened when you climbed on top of the counter.

Chair scraping back and crashing to the tiled floor with how abruptly he stood up, he was by your side in a split second.

“Fuck— You’re going to fucking fall!!!” He cursed violently, chest heaving as he panted hard.

You giggled lightly, leafing through the spices you kept on the top shelf in order to find what you were looking for. “Relax, Katsuki, I’m fine.”

You started keeping them all on the very top after he dumped an entire bottle of chili pepper into your dinner one night. You were not amused at the shit-eating grin on his face that came from getting his fix of spicy food.

After that, it was only salt and pepper from then on, much to his dismay.

Bakugou didn’t look at all reassured by your words and he was strongly thinking about climbing up there with you just so he could catch you if you lost your balance when you squealed joyfully and hopped back down.

Thank fuck. You were going to give him a heart attack one day. 

After you ushered him to sit back down, you presented the culprit as to what your dodgy behavior was all about.

Bakugou’s vermilion eyes widened when you proudly handed him a carefully wrapped gift box. The pattern on the paper was simple and you didn’t go overboard with decorating it, settling for a small bow on top. 

He appreciated it. 

Even though to the untrained eye it looked like you hadn’t spent much effort, he knew that it was in fact the very opposite. He could see where you had meticulously folded the paper so that it laid flat and didn’t crease or wrinkle. The dark green bow vaguely reminded him of Deku, but more of the time when you said you loved the green in his hero costume because of how much it contrasted against his eyes. 

Your words, not his.

He couldn’t fucking care less about the color except for the fact that you said you liked it. That stuck with him more than he would’ve liked to admit. 

Bakugou’s hand shook slightly as he accepted the gift. “You weren’t supposed to get me anything, brat.”

You only rolled your eyes humorously, planting your hands on your hips. “Oh please, like I’m not going to get you something for your birthday.”

You may have had a habit of going all out for things like his birthday and holidays and he hated it because he never knew what to do with those warm, fuzzy feelings you left him with, giving him those wide smiles of yours that lit up the room as though he had created the universe and blinked up at him with your bright, loving doe eyes that melted his heart.

So instead, his competitive spirit spurred on to compensate for the lack of emotional capacity he had to deal with all of these unwanted feelings. 

It frustrated and flattered you to no end.

“You better fucking remember this when yours comes around then, dumbass.” Bakugou smirked, shooting you a sharp look when your jaw dropped. He would return the favor and go overboard when yours came around.

You blinked. The nerve he had. He knew you two were trying to save up funds so that you would have a stable foundation when you were ready to have kids. “W-Wait, Katsu—”

“Too late.” He rejected flatly, his eyes twinkling with a touch of amusement as he dodged your attempts to take back the present. 

His present. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bakugou snapped as you lost your balance and crashed face-first into his chest while trying to get it back.

You floundered for a second, trying to get your bearings but your husband was too fast and beat you to it. He set the box down in flash in order to catch you.

Hooking your legs around his waist so that you didn’t fall again, his palm splayed against your lower back, teasing with the hem of your shirt before it dipped underneath. 

You jolted as his warm hand came in contact with your chilly skin and you shivered. 

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed accusingly at you. “You’re cold.”

Blushing, you tried to hide only for him to be one step ahead of you and yank your wrists away from your face. 

“Fucking idiot.” He muttered to himself and you giggled, bouncing excitedly in his lap now that your life was no longer in danger from falling ungracefully off of a chair. 

“Open it, open it, open it!!” You chanted over and over again, tugging at his arm enthusiastically. 

Bakugou grimaced at your volume. “Stop fucking yelling in my ear, you shitty woman.”

But he froze and his whole body tensed the second he opened the lid. 

You blinked at him nervously, brushing back your hair anxiously as you waited for him to say something. Unable to wait as the silence stretched on, you pointed out each one of the items sitting in the container to explain what they were so he didn’t just think you gave him a pile of junk as a gag gift. 

“They’re specialized compression arm bands for when you’re out in the field to help reduce the muscle strain but they won’t be affected by your quirk, you’d have to try really hard to destroy them and even then—”

“Thank you.”

You stopped your nervous rambling and blinked up at him in shock. Was that genuine gratitude you detected in his voice without the usual mask of nonchalance?

You giggled, almost not believing your ears. He didn’t even bother disguising it. “Wow, the world must really be ending.”

“Shut the fuck up and die.” Bakugou hissed.

Ah, there it was. 

You grinned widely. “You really like it?”

“Course, you shitty woman.” He glowered, slipping them on to try it out. 

Bakugou remembered telling you about the strain overusing his quirk caused on his arms but when push came to shove, he didn’t care if he destroyed his body when it came to saving the day. But that was years ago. 

Back when you had first met and he had blown you up during a training session. Literally. The burns landed you in Recovery Girl’s office and after that, he had walked in to begrudgingly apologize but you just looked up at him with that same kind face that greeted him everyday and asked him if it always hurt to use his quirk for such huge blasts.

You weren’t even offended by the fact that he had hurt you. It was true that he didn’t ever hold back against opponents, even when training, but even he admitted that he might’ve gone too hard.

Maybe.

But to think you not only remembered it but also worked through that pretty brain of yours to come up with a solution like this. 

All the support tech in the world didn’t have a material that could withstand his nitroglycerin when he ignited it. 

You were incredible.

Bounding up to your feet eagerly, you didn’t give him any time to throw a tantrum that you had detached yourself from him as you begged for him to try them out. 

“Hah?” He glowered. “You want me to use my quirk indoors?”

But he raised his hands anyway. You were always the one to enforce the rule of him not using his explosion inside, since it was destructive even with his fine control over it. You must’ve been really excited to see him try it out.

His palms popped with sparks at first and he raised an eyebrow as a cooling sensation kicked in automatically. Slowly, he built up his power until he fired a controlled AP cannon that shattered the vase from across the room. 

You cheered and clapped your hands gleefully at how well it worked. It had changed blue when it activated, signaling that the cooling agent was doing its job.

Flexing his hands, Bakugou noticed how his arms weren't as sore as they normally were. 

He took them off and turned it over in his hands, examining it closely. “How did you do it?”

You went on a rant, enthusiasm taking over every inch of your being as you eagerly explained how you created the material, a hybrid of some sort of elastic that could withstand high heats woven in with a cooling agent to soothe his muscles when they were overworked. The threads that made up the compression bands were fireproofed down to their molecular level, an expensive process but possible with the right amount of funds, along with a ton of time and patience.

All of which you had as you spent a huge chunk on the money you had saved up for this.

Your husband’s expression softened into something that vaguely resembled fondness as your eyes shone with excitement over your newest piece of tech. Specially made just for him. 

Fuck, he was whipped.

Bakugou buried his face into your chest and you yelped in surprise, tugging his hair to pry him off of your body but he just groaned and stubbornly refused to move.

“Katuski!!” You protested, your hands shooting to the arms that were wrapped around your torso and pressing you close to him. “I’m dirty!!”

A blatant lie since you had bathed with him but you were desperate. This would inevitably end up in the bed if you didn’t push him off you right now. 

You had been working in the shop all day to finish these up, just able to wrap the specialized compression sleeves in time before he came home. And because all of your clothes were currently being washed since there was an accident in your workshop a few days ago, you had to throw on your dirty tank top and cargo pants after scrubbing it as best as you could; and it was not the most appealing or flattering on your body. 

It was clear your husband thought otherwise though.

“Don’t care.” Bakugou grumbled into your chest, his meaty hands going down to cup your butt.

You smacked his chest, telling him off, squeaking when he retaliated by squeezing your ass firmly. Rolling your eyes at the cheeky smirk on his face, you kissed his nose softly and his expression crumbled away to the softness that you knew had always lurked behind his guard.

“Happy birthday, Katsuki…” You whispered, a millimeter away from his lips. “I love you.”

You hadn’t even finished your declaration before his hand was snaking around the back of your neck, closing the distance in one go and crushing your mouth to his. 

You whined as he dominated your mouth, his tongue demanding entrance. You decided to play with him a bit and kept your lips pursed. He growled at your disobedience and you shifted giddily in his lap, yelping when he nipped your bottom lip. 

He groaned against your mouth as you ground your pelvis into his.

Bakugou thought this was going to go somewhere with how much you were teasing him but to his frustration, you climbed off of him, panting hard to catch your breath.

You winked. He knew that glint in your eyes. 

“Catch me if you can!!” You shouted over your shoulder as you sprinted towards the living room and took refuge behind the couch. 

“What the fuck….” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head at your childish antics as you raced out of view. 

He stomped into the living room. 

“Oi, get out from behind there, dumbass.” He growled.

When you didn’t reply, he rolled his eyes and tapped his foot impatiently. 

“I know you’re there, shitty woman.” “He drawled. “I can see your fucking foot.”

Your indignant squeak made the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement but the look was quickly wiped off of his face as a foam bullet whizzed past his ear. You had just declared war.

A wide smirk spread across Bakugou’s face at the invitation of a challenge and forgoing his shirt, he sank low to the ground. He didn’t even bother to take one of the other guns where they were stored. He was going to beat you in hand to hand so easily it was going to be embarrassing.

“Just remember when you fucking lose,” He started, cracking his knuckles loudly. “Don’t come crying, dumbass.”

“I don’t cry— Hey!! That’s cheating!!”

Your confident reply broke out into a whine halfway through your sentence as Bakugou leaped over the couch and tackled you to the floor, pushing the gun away so you couldn’t shoot at him anymore.

“You’re such a fucking child.” He snorted, stealing a kiss from you before you could say anything.

“But you love me anyways~” You sang, repeating your declaration from earlier as you booped his nose softly.

Bakugou huffed indifferently, a proud smirk stretching across his face as his true feelings won over. 

“Damn right I do.”

[scriptaed]

cherry blossom avenue.

❀ genre: angst/fluff; arranged marriage!au; f2l!au;

❀ pairing: jin x reader; 

❀ length: 23.0k;

❀ synopsis: college would’ve been unbearable if it weren’t for your wallowing sessions with your best friend jin over a shared “forever alone” woe, so it really was only a matter of time until the two of you sealed a shoddy promise to betroth the other at the age of 27. perhaps it was only a silly joke to you then, but you should’ve known better nonetheless; because when a wedding invitation arrives five years later down the road with his name signed next to another’s, feelings that were once buried begin to blossom once again.

“Don’t be a homewrecker.”

What was supposed to be a light-hearted tease over your fleeting glimpses in his direction bears much more weight than even reality should have; and unbeknownst to her, even if your friend’s commentary strikes a fear in you, a fear that has some creature eating away at you and a horrifying drop in the twisted pain of your chest, the daunting knowledge of a potential truth behind her words pale in comparison to the anguish brought upon by a familiar face of the past. 

Because even as you stand far and hidden behind the crowd of overly dressed classmates and unacquainted businessmen all painted by a silhouette of dimmed black, you manage to observe him through the few albeit sure opportunities; for when the passersby chatter, cross, and weave through the lavish ballroom floor at the perfect time, place, and space for you to peep through the pinholes seemingly formed by pure happenstance or a cruel wish casted upon by fate, the clock returns to a buried state of mind.  

It’s a state of mind seven years stale, mistakenly manifested and deliberately buried. It’s a transition in mindsets when fondness sours into a longing for something that could never be, for his reciprocation of affections means much less than its origins. It’s a heavy moment when you’re finally sure he would never come to speak the language of your enamored being. It’s that fractured frame in time when everyone freezes in their tracks but a reverberating pain transcends the laws of the universe, almost as if on a personal quest to oust you; and even if you vehemently down yourself with another magical shot of liquor, nothing can quite ease the internal war stirring within.

One hand grasping a glass of red wine worth much more than a month of your salary and one arm crossed under the bosom draped over by your only presentable black satin slip dress, you’re almost numb to the turmoil that is irony. How cruel is it that even after seven years of having believed you had moved on, nothing has really changed after all? Your heart still melts in the wake of his dorky grin, your chest still winces over the buried buds of a coveted love, and your blood still runs intoxicated by the presumption that this phase of infatuation would pass with time. 

Your friendship, your feelings, your shared promise, a youth that no one had paid witness to except for you, him, and that cherry blossom tree down that street, nothing has really changed. In fact, you feel as though you could still march across this room and nonchalantly probe at your best friend’s cheek with the ultimate goal of eliciting a shriek from your best friend. 

And yet, the circumstances that have brought you back to him in this very room must have been the one cruel exception. 

“A ‘homewrecker?’” you feign a light-hearted chuckle, swirling your drink and taking another sip as you peek at the distorted glass-image of the man and the woman beside him. “And why would you say something as horrifying as that?”

“Didn’t you say you and, what’s his name,” Alex pauses before nearly gasping, “ah, Seokjin! Didn’t you say you two used to be best friends in college? You might have been his best friend but she’s his fiance now, Y/N! Plus, she’s got a baby in her, too.” 

She might have been joking, and it really should have been if you had been truthful about your feelings for said best friend, but maybe this is the price you’re paying for so dutifully holding onto your dignity; so, instead, the deep undercut of her remark instigates a stirring irritation within you. Raising a questioning brow at your friend is all you can muster without spilling your secret as well as your brewing storm. 

“Oh, so you actually do remember what I say when you’re only a minute from blacking out?” 

“Hey,” your friend recognizes the anger seeping through your body language, stifling a giggle as she tries to bump your elbow and stumbles over her heels, “it was a joke, okay? I’m just looking out for my friend!”

“Right, what is there to even look out for?” 

“Well,” she points a finger at the direction you had just been staring off into a minute prior and leans in to whisper, “you’ve been staring at the newly engaged man for much longer than the woman beside him, if that says anything—”

“—uhuh, as if, hey!” you almost yelp as you help her stand upright once again. A scoff of disbelief escapes your lips over the sight of your friend letting herself go. Grabbing her glass and swiftly placing it onto the tray of the many passing waiters, you squish her cheeks and give her a light pat or two. “The only person you need to worry about is yourself. Why are you even wearing those ungodly stilettos when you can’t even wear kitten heels without whining all day at work?”

“Hey,” Alex pouts, bending one knee and jutting her hips to show off those torturous pink devices on her feet. “I told you about my ex from high school, don’t you remember?”

“So it’s okay if you’re trying to impress an ex from high school, but I’m not even allowed to glance at my old best friend?” you quip, pressing your lips into a thin line as you take another gander at your friend up and down. “And what does excessive drinking even have anything to do with it?” 

She flashes you a mischievous grin, “for confidence.”

“I can’t with you,” the roll of your eyes must have agreed, “and what about the classmate friend who actually invited you to her engagement party?”

“Oh,” Alex glances at the woman beside Jin and shrugs, “she’s alright. She’s that typical good girl. Too smart, too kind, too good at everything that you really want to hate her but have no reason to do so. I’m sorry, Y/N, but your best friend is devilishly handsome and I’m not surprised she’s marrying someone of her league.” 

“Pfft, why are you apologizing to me?” you scoff, ushering her to the washroom and shaking your head along with the stream of confusing emotions that hit you like a truck. “Go wake yourself up before she or, gasp, worse yet, your ex spots you.” 

“Oh my God, you’re right,” she gasps, shuffling in her skintight red bodycon dress and whirling around once more to call out before finally disappearing, “let me know if any boy comes looking for me!” 

“Uhuh, yeah, sure,” you shoo her away, taking another sip from your glass and muttering under your breath, “...how am I supposed to recognize your high school classmates?”

Now that your friend is gone and you’re left all alone to your thoughts, you go against your own advice and down another glass of liquor. 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Well, if Alex is a good judge of character, then at least a good man like your best friend has found an equally respectful woman. It might have hurt to hear her words, but Alex isn’t exactly wrong. At the very least, you could sigh in relief having known you’re genuinely happy for your best friend’s future. 

It’s just that the truth hurts sometimes. 

Relief isn’t an excuse for lingering onto a soon-to-be-married man, regardless of when these emotions came about. 

People are chattering all around you, strangers and former acquaintances are bustling about, familiar college classmates are greeting the bride-to-be’s high school classmates, and yet here you are: aloof and isolated even in a room of hundreds, fixated and more distant than you have ever been to the boy you had once cherished as the closest anyone could get to knowing the real you. 

No one would know but Jin. 

The real you.

The you who could not have moved on because she couldn’t recognize her own feelings until seven years down the road with a wedding invitation in hand, seven years after the buds had been sowed, seven years too late. 

The one who stands pathetically here in the corner of a room, secretly hoping for him to approach her but also wishing for the night to pass unnoticed just like she had wished for her buried affections to pass.  

So you shuffle in place awkwardly, pondering whether you should’ve caved into Alex’s pleas and attended this posh get-together, debating whether you should dip once your friend realizes her high school ex just isn’t worth it, sipping the remainder of opulent liquor and taking one last peek at the boy, when, your heart strikes loudly against your chest…

...because his eyes catch yours, a pair amongst hundreds, one invitee amidst an endless swarm of crowds, almost as if on a planned rendezvous, a secret unbeknownst to everyone in the room but the two of you.

Eyes widening in shock, the drums of your chest hammer against you, each strike pumping a nearly painful high that fuels your fight or flight mode. The debate between confronting your longtime friend and fleeing said friend did not even cross your mind at the start of the predicament. Quickly whirling around, head down and hands gripped to your drink, your feet move on its own. 

A familiar series of clicks echo against the polished marble tiles. You don’t even have to turn around to recognize those homecoming footsteps, those awe-inspiring confident strides as he makes his way across the room. If this were you from seven years ago, you would have welcomed him with open arms and he would have claimed you were just acting sweet to bargain for some fresh pastry, but the unfamiliarity of a stranger you have yet to reconcile with has you in an unexplainable panic. 

After all, it’s hard to explain why exactly his persistent pursuit after you, after seven years of distance, both emotional and physical, frustrates you to no ends. 

Your hands form fists, your feet storm down the halls, and your mind could repeat nothing but the words you had excused as “just a light-hearted joke.” 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Don’t be a homewrecker.

A baby in her.

A baby.

His fiance. 

A homewrecker.

The accusations echo and echo, as though screaming at you in the endless cave that is your mind, until the party fades, the crowd disappears, and the ear-piercing classical music wanes against the walls of your temporary solace, the bathroom. Finally, entrapped in a world of black—black tiles, wine colored walls, and dark red roses perched on top of what seems to be a black granite sink—you’re left alone to your thoughts. 

Alex wouldn’t understand a seven-year-long regret because she doesn’t know the real history between you and Jin. In fact, no one invited to this engagement party nor does anyone in this whole mansion know of the soon-to-be groom’s past. 

It isn’t as simple as people might make it out to be on the surface, because no one but you, Jin, and the street down your block had paid witness to a shoddy, spontaneous promise that should have never been made. 

Turning on the faucet and splashing a fresh handful of cold water onto your face, your eyes eventually wander from the stream of water that flows down the drain up along the glass bowl of a sink and into the mirror to meet the sullen eyes of a girl, seven years older with a stain of regret that spans much longer that a mere seven years. 

❀ ❀ ❀

“Waaah,” the boy exclaims as you watch your own reflection narrow its eyes at the image beside you. The spectacle persists to angle his chin every which way until he’s finally satisfied with the protrusion of his jawline; and as the boy resumes his daily activity of marveling at himself in awe, you have to wonder once again, for the hundredth time by now, just how you two had possibly become best friends. “Looking good, Jin. Looking real good.”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes and feign nausea, “narcissist.” 

Jin pauses in the midst of his inspection, allowing his phone to settle into his lap and turning to glance at you with his head as high—well, almost as high—as his ego. “When you look as good as this,” he gestures at himself and your eyes follow his crafty fingers up and down, “don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t be all up in yourself.”

You blink your eyes blankly and start with the most accusatory tone you could muster, “excuse you, Kim Seokjin, but are you saying that I don’t look good?” 

“You’re insisting that yourself, not me! It’s not my fault you can’t appreciate your God-given looks,” Jin raises his hands mercifully and you almost miss his latter, back-handed compliment when you become entranced by those double-jointed fingers of his. “Plus, I said ‘when you look as good as this.’”

“Psh, yeah,” you mumble, “and yet here you are, still as forever alone as ever.”

“Hey,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you even as he raises his phone to take yet another selfie, “and what does that say about you?”

“...and that’s exactly why,” you chirp as you hastily smush your cheek against his and throw a peace sign just as he snaps a photo, “we’re gonna be forever alone together!” 

“Hey, why’re you ruining my selfie—” he pauses in the middle of his camera roll “—oh, we actually look good.”

Glimpsing at one of many candid photos of you and him, a helpless smile spreads across your lips. A warm breeze blows and you can practically smell the impending spring that breathes life into the pink buds hovering on the cherry tree above you. The sun’s embrace against your bare legs that lie beside your best friend’s on the red and white checkered picnic is a perfect compliment to the equally bright phenomena that are his high-pitched giggles; and like the many days you’ve spent the past year, the only thing that could possibly elevate this moment of serenity would be a bite of his weekly pastry batches.  

Speaking as you chow down on the carbs, you quip, “you mean you look good?” 

“That, too, but I meant us, together—” he articulates, cutting himself off abruptly when he snaps his head to find you digging into one of his many bread “—hey, who said you could start testing without me?!” 

“Too many selfies, too slow, too hungry,” you lean your head back to plop the remainder of the custard-filled bread into your mouth, “shmorry Jin, but dish ish delicious.”

Just as you lean forward and take another large bite out of the batch, Jin catches right up to you, snatching the remainder and plopping it right into his now-stuffed cheeks instead. Lips falling agape at the disappearance of your bite-size donut, you gawk at your best friend whomst chomps happily away with your piece in his mouth. 

You can still recall the heat of your cheeks after the first time he had ever proclaimed something that was yours as his—in fact, it wasn’t much long ago when Jin had nearly regurgitated a mouthful of mocha frappuccino after discovering you had sneaked in a sip or two prior—but now? Sharing commodities has become such second nature to you two that sometimes you wish he could return to his germophobic days just so you can hog all the food…

...and maybe to relive whatever magical flutters that had befallen you on that very first day.

“Of coursh ish delicious!” he manages to exclaim incoherently. “Kim Sheokjin baked it afta all!” 

“Yeah,” you take a long moment to gulp and make room for more food, “I think I prefer the ones with custard—”

“—so it’s a perfect batch just like m—”

“—almost perfect.”

You could see yourself wink through the prideful glint in his eyes quickly plummet into a glare that has you laughing at the downfall of his indestructible ego. His playful glare through the corner of his narrowed eyes silently commences yet another one of your daily staring challenges. Maybe that’s why the two of you made such a perfect pair amongst the thousands of classmates at school. After all, how would Jin ever find someone as tolerant of his incessant dad jokes and perpetual ego as you are? And how would you ever find someone who would bake you goods and cook you lunch and, not to mention, spout such peculiar humor? 

All of your classmates had dubbed the two of you as the perfect comedy duo—the dumb and the dumber, the silly and the sillier—that, apparently, is the essence of a match made in heaven, albeit probably meant to be more platonically than romantically. 

Both too stubborn to lose, even in a meaningless game of a staring contest, not even the heat of the sun rays that has you two nearly sweating bullets could deter the match. Eventually, seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into a frenzy frozen moment in time as you start to fall into the sudden abyss you found yourself in that is the warmth pool of his eyes. 

Perhaps it’s the angle at which the rays strike theatrically on the apples of his cheeks, illuminating his dewy skin and enhancing the chocolate hues of his orbs hidden underneath the matching brown locks of his all whilst his eyes happen to be staring right back at you. You’ve never quite felt this way before—heart palpitating, throat constricting, and mind panicking—but for the first time ever, you’re hesitant in allowing your best friend to peer through the windows to your soul. 

This isn’t good. What would he do if he were to discover your frenzy? Would he tease you to no ends? 

Worse yet, would he falsely assume that you’re hardcore crushing on him…?

“Oh God,” you blurt out, breaking eye contact to avert your head to the side across the street. Your lips begin to mumble whatever comes first to mind, “uh, wow, look at that couple. Ugh, PDA—” your eyes flicker to find Jin raising a brow just before your eyes avert once again and he follows your line of sight “—am I right?” 

“Oh c’mon! Just admit it,” Jin chides. “You’re only using this to disguise the fact that you were just about to blink, weren’t you?” 

“I was not about to blink,” you insist but your shifty gaze tells the both of you otherwise, even if the true lack of confidence is unbeknownst to Jin. “You suck at staring contests. How many times have I won before? I was just distracted, okay?”

“Oh yeah?” Jin crosses his arms. “Distracted by what, then? Huuuh? By my devastatingly good looks?”

“No!” you exclaim almost too adamantly that you have to add in a nervous laugh at the end, which only has Jin staring at you in utter disbelief. Feigning an apologetic pressed smile, you gesture your hands in the direction of the couple supposedly hidden behind a fence but clearly exposed to those on a hill, otherwise known as you two. “I meant them—”

“—ew!”

The both of you exclaim in unison, selflessly covering the tarnished eyes of the other and ducking away from the moment of intimacy that you two had just intruded on. 

“Aw, cmon! Even after graduation, too?” Jin remarks, mouth gaping and hands falling from your shielded eyes only to be thrown to his side in bewilderment. “Does everyone really have to remind us just how lonely we are even on our last day?” 

“You mean how lonely we are and how lonely we will be for the rest of our lives?”

“For the rest of our lives?” Jin quirks a brow at you before shaking his head and shrugging. “Dang, that wasn’t exactly my plan, because the world will be forced to acknowledge my looks sooner or later, but I mean, in your case…”

“What?!” you gasp in disbelief, slapping his arm hard enough for him to wince. “What do you mean ‘in your case?’ I bet you haven’t even kissed someone yet!” 

Jin snarls at you as he pulls his arm back and retorts, “yeah? And I bet you haven’t either!” 

“Actually, I have, with Joon at that party last year,” you say smugly, crossing your arms with a chin held high, “and you just admitted you haven’t had your first kiss yet.”

“Psh, yeah, I haven’t, and?" the boy holds his head high akin to a child arguing with his body and not with his words. “Because I prefer to save it for something meaningful unlike someone here.” 

“Hey, are you insinuating that it wasn’t meaningful?”

“You’ve always told me how much you hated parties!” he throws his hands up. “Plus, you don’t even like Joon! You said his breath stinks!” 

“Well—” you pause but no words come to you except for a loud grunt “—ugh, fine. You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he turns away, leaning into his right hand with an elbow propped against his crisscrossed lap. “I’m Kim Seokjin, after all.” 

Following suit, you mumble into your propped hand, “I guess that’s why we’re friends in the first place. Together and, yet, still forever alone.”

“Hey, I said I don’t plan on being forever alone.”

“Right, right,” you brush him off, “tell me that when you actually get a girlfriend—actually, tell me that when you find someone to marry who doesn’t run for their life just one month into your relationship.” 

“‘Marry?!’” he gawks at your demand. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and you’re talking about marriage?!”

“What?” you turn to face him, cheek resting in hand. “Didn’t you say the world would soon recognize your charms?”

“Hmph, well,” he says with a jutted lower lip, “definitely sooner than you.”

“Really?” you gape at his bold proclamation despite clearly being the one with the upperhand. “You really think you’re gonna get married before me?” 

Your best friend doesn’t even bother glancing at you before answering, “bet.”

“Okay, if you win, then I’ll eat the crust to your breads whenever you want. I’ll even throw in a bonus for you and spare your wife from having to see fetus photos of you in college,” you can only snicker at the lightbulb that goes off in his widened eyes. “And if I win, then you’ll have to eat my crust and delete all the ugly photos you have of me on your phone.”

“Sorry, can’t do. That would take me an eterni—”

“—shut up.” 

“Okay, fine, bet,” he cackles, straightening his back and stretching his arms out before him, “and what if neither of us ever get married?”

“Hm,” you purse your lips, “good point. Should we set a time cap to our bet? Ideally, if I want to have a stable job and income by 25, have children by 30, enjoy two or three years of marriage without kids, then…”

“Why do you have to have children by 30?” Jin frowns. “Why set all these unrealistic standards on yourself?” 

Putting a finger to hush his lips, you almost find yourself distracted by the plush warmth against your skin. Quickly, you answer, “long story short: parents.”

“Ah,” he utters even as your fingers are pressed to his lips, “ditto.” 

“Let’s set the cap to 27,” you propose. “If neither of us get married by the age of 27, then we’ll just call off the bet. But damn—” the two of you simultaneously lean your chins into your palms “—that means we’re really gonna be a disappointment to our parents forever, huh?” 

A loud, heavy sigh escapes the both of you; and while you stay pouting into your hands, staring into the fresh green grass on the downside of the hill off in the distance, Jin props his hands back against the blanket and cranes his neck back to look off into the distant sky. You hadn’t noticed it until now, but for a devilishly dashing guy like Jin—broad shoulders, facial features that could only be gifted, and a prominent Adam’s apple, especially with his head rolled to the back like this—you have to admit his lonely status must have been much more of a choice to Jin than it is for you; because even for someone like you, his best friend who gets to stare at his profile for as long you desire in all its glory, you have yet to become desensitized to his dazzling visuals that is anything but normal.

As much as you hate to admit it, even now, with a clear blue sky, an array of warm pastry aroma, and a field of freshly cut grass, you can’t help but become enamored by the person before you. 

And when another sigh befalls his lips and the two of you have settled into a comfortable silence and a breeze passes by the both of you, rustling a dozen or so of the hovering cherry petals to grace the surrounding air, he speaks. 

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by then.” 

“...huh?”

“I said,” only his eyes move to peer down at you effortlessly, “if we both lose the bet, then let’s get married.”

Your eyes pop and you can only utter the few words that reach you, “to each other?” 

“No, to food,” he says sarcastically, grabbing a piece of his bread and stuffing your face with it when you continue to stare at him and he shuffles awkwardly in place. Looking away, he mumbles, “of course to each other, who else, dummy?”

“Uh….huh,” you blankly nod your head as a series of laughs are stifled by the bread. “Okay, and you’re being serious?”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “uhuh.”

“Pffft, and you’re saying you would keep that promise? That you would even remember this moment? We’re just gonna marry? Like that? And you’re assuming I’m just going to agree?”

“Hey,” he turns to frown at you, “why wouldn’t you agree? I’m offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

Munching down on the bread, you continue to play along in amusement, “really? And what exactly are you offering me? You know I have high standards, right? I’m not just going to accept any proposal.”

“I know. That’s why you’re still single…” the boy deadpans, even as you glare at his remark, “...but, that’ll all change when you witness my proposal! Hear me out. First, I’ll cook every meal for you for the entire day.”

“You almost already do that except for breakfast.”

“Okay, but I’ll hone my skills by then. It’ll be even better than any restaurant we’ve ever been to.”

You raise a brow, “so you think food is the way to my heart?”  

“No offence, but yes, that’s why we’re friends,” he quips before continuing, “second, I’ll bring flowers to you at work. Everyone at your job will be burning with jealousy!”

“Because of your public display of affection, which we both clearly disdain?” 

“No, because they would wonder how you have such a handsome boyfriend like me!” he wags his finger. “Plus, who doesn’t like a little PDA when they’re about to be proposed to?” 

“Okay, fair enough, but those are two promises you’re making for the proposal. A marriage is a lifelong commitment. Why would I want to marry you just for food and flowers?”

“Hmmm, even for someone like you, I’m surprised you have so many requirements,” Jin hums, tapping his finger on his chin. “How about this, I’ll make three more promises for our marriage.”

“Quit saying ‘our marriage,’ I keep shuddering at the thought of it,” you remark as you rub your arms. 

“Third promise, I won’t break your achey breaky heart,” he deliberately emphasizes each word in a fruitful attempt to send shivers down your spine. “Fourth promise, I’ll remember all of my promises.”

“Okay… and fifth?”

“I’ll keep all of my promises! And I’ll do it all right here at this spot. Our spot.”

“What? That’s dumb,” you giggle. “Just keep it at four, then.”

“No,” he grabs the bagel in your hands and fills his mouth without a second of hesitation, “ish eashier to wememba fibe promishesh.”

“Right, right, right,” you nod, pressing your lips in a vain attempt to muffle your chuckles. “And what promises would you want me to make?”

“You?” he quirks a brow before shaking his head. “Nothing. You’re fine. I like you just the way you are.”

Huh. Has Jin always been this nice? Because you don’t quite recall ever feeling the heat of an oncoming blush of your cheeks or the bashful flutters that come with your best friend’s witty remarks. Maybe the topic of marriage has thrown you off today or maybe it’s the aftermath of a high having just graduated college and being thrusted into adulthood, but the stretched smile that adorns your lips is an undeniable fact that your confidence and spontaneity has reached its pinnacle.

Grinning, you lean across Jin’s lap to grab and unlock his phone to access the camera, “okay, wanna take a photo to commemorate this moment?”

“Gee, if you want a photo of me that bad, you could just ask me to send you a selfie, y’know—what the,” Jin starts to cackle when you raise the phone into the air and suddenly press your cheeks against his without warning. With a side-finger gun to frame his cheeks and chin, your best friend readies his pose as you wear a mischievous smile. “Hurry up and take the picture already, Y/N. My time is money.” 

“Hey Jin,” you call out to him with your eyes still fixated to the phone screen, as does his. 

The boy almost drags his words, “now what?”

“You’ve never had a girl kiss you on the cheeks before either, right?”

“What—”

—click.

“There,” you chirp jubilantly, grinning at the stunned look on his face, his eyes popping and his lips just slightly parted but failing to utter a single word as his hand grazes the spot on his cheeks where your lips had just touched, “now you have zero excuses to forget our promise!”

❀ ❀ ❀

That must have been the last time you had met up with Jin in person. Shortly after graduation, the two of you had parted ways as many are forced to do in order to embark on their lives as full-fledged adults. Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Jin had been lucky enough to receive a job offer straight out of college with the help of family connections; although, even without his family name, you whole-heartedly believe he still would have managed on his own based off of his unparalleled work ethic that you had the chance to witness firsts-handedly. 

On the other hand, your parents had advised you to stay home, which happened to mean you would be stuck in the same town of your college, until you finally landed a decent job where you had met Alex and established a new life. Unfortunately, like life always does, all that busywork meant sacrificing contact with your best friend somewhere along the way.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

“Ah, shit,” you mutter under your breath as you stop in the midst of your tracks down the black-marbled hallway, gritting your teeth and composing yourself just as you’ve done countless times around your less than friendly colleagues. Taking a deep breath in and out, you put on a pleased smile and whirl around to find the face of a familiar boy in your most recent reveries. “Ahh, hey, Jin... It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Ah,” the man, who seems to have grown at least or three inches since you had last seen him, scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight… how have you been?”

This is awkward. So painfully awkward. 

“Me? Oh, I’ve been alright. Life. Adulting. You know the drill,” you press a thin smile. “Actually, I’m surprised to be seeing you here tonight. I still remember us whining all throughout college over being forever alone, and yet here we are… at your engagement party… life can be funny, huh?” 

“Y—” he stutters, scratching the back of his neck “—yeah… it can be.” 

“So,” you chirp in a fruitless attempt to lift the suffocating atmosphere, “the wedding is coming up pretty soon! Feeling good or is someone getting cold feet?” 

He shakes his head weakly, “I wear socks to sleep.” 

“Wh—” you pause for a quick second, blinking blankly at his soft chuckle and following suit shortly after “—why do your jokes sound like you’re 22 again?” 

The man shrugs with a helpless smile hinted in the corners of his lips; and when it happens—you don’t know how or when the silence had whisked you away into a past time—you find him gazing at you with that fondness of a sole friend who endlessly shared and fought informidable woes with you. Perhaps you’re a hopeless romantic frozen between the fork of two roads that have long closed, for you swear you can see your own reflection through his warm brown eyes and you surmise the only possible answer to the question that lingers in your mind. 

He must see the same friend in you, that girl he would only call friend.

“You’ve been preparing your whole life for this, or, actually, maybe I should say we’ve been preparing,” you smile to stifle the lurching ache in your chest, “I guess I’m the only fool waiting for her turn now.” 

A weep cracks the laugh you force out of your knotted throat. Immediately, you turn your head to avoid his watchful gaze and tuck a lock of hair behind an ear whilst discretely ridding any traces of waterworks welling in your vision. You think you must have gotten away with the feigned laugh and turn, a routine you had mastered at your previous work, but the gradual dissolution of the curve on his lips settles into an unreadable flatline more resembling a frown than anything; because even after all these years, he can still read you like an open book. 

So, if he could see through your every facade even now, then why does he not remember? You know you shouldn’t hold it against him, such a silly promise built on a lonesome pair of naive hearts,  but you can’t help it when a single word paints your conscience. 

Why?

Why can’t he remember? 

Your shared promises, your birthday, your memories, and... you?

“Y/N,” Jin begins gently, hesitating in place once he takes a step forward and you flinch, “about the wedding date…”

He waits for you to reply, supposedly for ‘whenever you were ready’, as he always does during those fragile lows of yours. 

To avoid letting loose any more unneeded drama, you can only manage a hum, “mm?”

“I…” he pauses and sighs. “I know it’s your birthday.”

A hitch in your breath is audible. You clamp your lips tightly and nod, uttering lowly, “yeah.”

“I want you to know I didn’t decide the date, Y/N,” he says firmly, “my father did.” 

“And?” you quip suddenly, eyes darting to shoot a glower deadly enough for him to twitch in evident hurt. There, you went ahead and did it. As hard as you had spent the past months muting your rawest reaction to the envelope in your mailbox, all the pent up frustration and sheer sorrow for a lost future came whiplashing just as hard. “And you couldn’t tell your father to change the date? Maybe one day after? Or two?” 

“You know I would have asked if I could, Y/N,” he bites his tongue to state sternly, “but how would he understand? Change it for… for what—”  he laughs cruelly in the midst of his burst “—for the birthday of a best friend I lost contact with for five whole years?! That’s so… so dumb—” 

“—dumb…?”

The crack in your voice leads to a stagnant silence over what is clearly a no man’s land. Betrayal visibly paints across your face, the momentary display of having wronged his closest ally stains his own. 

“Sorry, I didn’t meant that...”

“‘...yeah, you’re right,” you scoff, “I’m dumb for waiting five whole damn years’ because you wouldn’t fucking text me or call me to ask how I was doing!”

“Me?” he asks in disbelief, gawking and pointing an accusatory finger. “You wouldn’t even pick up your phone! I called you for a month after I moved!” 

“I couldn’t pay for my phone, alright?! I was living with my parents and scrambling to find a job, any fucking low wage job, and I couldn’t sit all day in my room waiting for your calls because I’m not born with a silver spoon stuck in my ass!” 

At this point, the conversation had somehow contorted into an all out brawl of words, a challenge to see who could blame the other for the unsaid confessions lost in communication. The two of you staring down the other, chest heaving and jaws clenching and brows knitting, if it weren’t for your fortunate location tucked in the hallway hidden from the main room, you would not have allowed yourself to fall, lost somewhere in the depth of his eyes. 

“Why are you so upset?” a weak, hopeless laugh tumbles from his confused, pained expression. “Aren’t you supposed to be happy for me?” 

“I—” something gets caught in your throat and you have to choke it out “—I am. I am happy for you. I’m not upset, no…”

Jin reaches a hand out to your cheek when he notices your tears but immediately retracts his notion when you flinch backwards. The boy frowns in concern, “Y/N… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. How did I upset you?”

“Nothing,” you frantically shake your head that hangs low, using the back of your hands to smear every sign of contradiction on your face. “I just—” your breath shakes and an impending series of hiccups begins to kick in “—I’m silly. I should be happy for my best friend. I mean, I am happy. I’m just being dumb.” 

“What?” Jin carefully takes a step forward. “No you’re not—”

“—I’m dumb, okay, Jin?” you finally muster the courage to lift your sights to find his own confused ones. “It’s been five whole years and I’m embarrassed for taking a joke of a promise so seriously when my best friend doesn’t even remember making it!” 

The scrunch in his brows and lost resolution only reverberate the deafening ache in your chest. “The promises…? Y/N, I—”

“—it’s fine,” you blurt. Shaking your head and stumbling backwards, you look him straight in the eyes to say your last words before the fading knocks of your heels against the wood are all that he hears. “It's my fault for believing in a foolish fairytale anyways.”

❀ ❀ ❀

It’s almost like a fever dream when you recall just how confidently you had spat those spiteful words and furthermore dared to depart with that sheer satisfaction and the slightest aftertaste of alcohol residing on your tongue that night; but now that you’re awake, sober, and without the power of liquor, there’s nothing that can pull you out of your greatest nightmare most recently manifested into reality. 

“Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that?” 

The incessant grumbles tumble freely from your lips whilst you pace back and forth in the corner of the office. Typically, your colleagues would describe you as composed, reserved, and the level-headed half of an otherwise wild pair with Alex. This morning, however, they begin to question everything they’ve ever known about you as they watch through the corner of their averting eyes. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone!” Alex hisses under her breath along with the threatening glares she shoots at the audience. Considering how long you’ve been going at your mental breakdown, it doesn’t take very long for your shuffling footsteps and mumbling gibberish to transcend into yet another white noise in the office; and once the majority of the passersby settle on the new revelation of your hidden crazed nature, Alex hastily storms to your side as you begin banging your head against the wall. “Why would you throw a tantrum at your best friend’s engagement party?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying…” you pause momentarily to groan before proceeding to damage whatever is left of your seemingly deteriorating brain. “Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do—”

“—not to mention, an ex best friend who never even knew about your unrequited feelings—”

—she comes to an abrupt stop when she finds the deadliest scowl in your dart-like eyes. No words are exchanged but the lethal consequences are clear enough to grant you her silence and the continuance of your destruction. 

“Why the hell did I do that, Alex?” you whimper, taking a break from your antics because, damn, your forehead is really starting to hurt. “Whyyyyyyy did you have to leave me alone? Maybe Jin wouldn’t have found me and I wouldn’t have had to confront him over something that shouldn’t even matter anymore! I-I barely even know him… it’s been five years and, suddenly, here I am, voila! At his engagement banquet, yelling in his face and getting mad over feelings that aren’t even his fault!” 

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol.”

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol,” you retort. Taking a deep breath, you let out a sigh along with the scowl plastered across your face. Your next words come out more as a helpless confession of fear than a rhetorical question to be answered. “Do you think he… hates me…?”

Alex observes you for a lingering second, perhaps contemplating between a merciful albeit exacerbating answer and a merciless albeit helpful answer. She speaks carefully, treading dangerous water, “well… would you like him to?”

“I don’t know,” you shut your eyes to heave yet another sigh because that weight in your chest refuses to leave you alone. An unapologetic swinging of the door and a series of loud, wide strided footsteps that follow have your brows furrowing and it takes everything in you and Alex, judging by the sudden shuffles you hear by your side, to finish the rare heart-to-heart conversation. “I think… I think if he hated me, maybe that would extinguish that part of me from the past. If he hated me, I would be able to get over it. Maybe I would hate him too, out of spite, but at least I would be able to get over—””

“—it…? Over what, Y/N?”

Over what? It takes you much longer than it should have for you to surmise the most probable answer to her question, an answer you were never willing to admit and an answer you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to admit even now. 

“You know what I’m implying, Alex,” you sigh, shutting your eyes even tighter when a rising heat marks your cheeks. “I want to get over—”

—but your words are cut short by a familiar voice that has your heart racing and striking an unprecedented strife in the mayhem that is your systemic state...

“You can’t possibly hate me, Y/N,” he proudly proclaims and you can practically hear him smiling, “no one ever hates Kim Seokjin.” 

...and when your eyes finally flutter open, you find the man, who had only seemed like a phenomenon of your feverish dream a second ago, standing before you and adorning that signature smile with raised cheek apples and crescent-like eyes that has yet to change under the influence of time and distance. 

“W-What are you doing here…?” you barely manage to utter. Eyes flickering around your surroundings, from Jin’s broad shoulders that shield nearly the entirety of a helpless albeit buoyant Alex, to your colleagues who fail to discreetly whisper over the lavishly suited mystery of a man, and finally back to the bouquet of pastel flowers wrapped with a bright pink bow. Brows furrowing, you struggle to organize your thoughts and even go so far as to check for the dent in your reddish forehead in a vain attempt to dispel the mind tricks. When the mirage before you fails to dissipate into thin air like sand, you slowly turn to face the wall again only to have your antics disrupted by his refreshingly cold hand on your burning forehead ; and when you turn, you find Jin’s mischievous smile growing wider by the second. “H-how do you know where I work…?”

“I’m your best friend, Y/N. Have you somehow forgotten after all that head banging?” Jin scoffs in disbelief, gawking with a chuckle. Suddenly, he leans in to grab your right hand firmly in his own, squeezing twice as he had always done and leading you toward the exit. “C’mon, let’s go recover those memories of yours, eh?” 

“Wait, wait,” you nearly stumble over your own feet at the pace he’s going, struggling to catch your breath when he bursts through the last door and a blast of freezing wind envelops the clash of the heat reverberating from your beating heart. “I have to go back! I still have work! And, and… and where in the world are you even taking me?” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Y/N, so many dumb questions for someone who always topped my grades,” the boy holds the bouquet of flowers out toward you, refusing to continue until you reluctantly accept his gift with your left hand against your chest. Smiling at your reluctant acceptance, Jin turns his back on you and proceeds to march into the parking lot but his now warm hands intertwined with your now cold hands never loosens its grip. 

It’s been a long five years of waiting to finally relish in the hold of his familiarly slim, often teased albeit self-praised double-jointed hands, but, now that you’re finally living in it, you’re sure it was all worth it… even if the crashing flames at the end of this road is an inevitable, foreseeable future.

“Jin,” you frown as you stare at Jin’s opening of the car door and gesture of an invitation, reluctantly seating yourself in his sumptuous car. “I failed half of my exams... remember?”

The boy’s laughs can still be heard even through the closed door as he makes his way around the car front, all whilst swinging the keys in his forefinger. His cackling steps an abrupt many levels of decibels higher when the opposing door opens and he plops into the driver seat. “That never stopped you from boasting, did it?” 

Without the flare of your usual clever quips, you purse your lips in silence and subconsciously hug the bouquet closer to your chest to keep his space as unoccupied by your presence. The sudden turn of events has your head spinning and your heart racing enough for the thumps to be felt by your hands. 

How did he find out where you worked? Where was he even taking you and what was he planning to do with you? Why was he acting as if you had not angered him just two nights ago? 

You don’t think you’ll be getting the answer any time soon, particularly the latter question, but when your stomach growls loudly, eliciting a crackle of a laugh from Jin, the awkward tension in your muscles eases ever so slightly. 

“...s-sorry… I skipped breakfast.”

“I know,” he puts the car into neutral at the red light and turns to peer at you with a smug look that says he could still read you like an open book, “because you always skip breakfast. I hid some pastry in the bouquet.” 

“What?” you scrunch your nose but immediately dive your scavenging hands into the flowers; and sure enough, you find your favorite cream-filled bread of his warm in your hands and you can’t stifle the smile that spreads on your lips. “Why would you even do that?”

“Well, in case you suddenly got really jacked and physically refused to come with me, then at least you would have something to eat.”

“No,” you giggle, “I meant why would you hide the bread in the bouquet…”

His eyes brighten like a lightbulb, as if only now recalling the genius plan he had crafted himself, “oh, because then you can sneak a bite without having to leave your desk! It always worked with our backpacks, didn’t it?” 

Your sights fall to the bouquet and you can only reply with a sheepish grin, “right… it sure did.”

The engine purrs to life again when the light turns green and the remainder of the car ride is filled with the smooth drift of his ride and the ceaseless albeit completely welcomed humming from his lips. The old Jin never had enough of an incentive to drive, although his parents always suggested gifting him a brand new car and you had begged him to take the offer out of boredom and a never-ending desire to escape far away from university, but something about this moment in time has you feeling cozy, belonging, and at home. It’s almost like it was meant to be. 

But the silver ring shining around his finger under the angle of the sun is a dreadful reminder that it isn’t. 

So, as a slap to yourself back into reality, you fracture this perfect moment you would have once framed in that hopeless mind of yours, “so… how did you find out where I worked?”

“Ah,” his right hand casually slips onto the back of your headrest. “Still haven’t figured out, rank 292?”

“No, I haven’t, rank 295.” 

“First,” he raises a finger, “I asked some people through the grapevines and eventually your friend Alex gave out.”

Grumbling under your breath, you curse, “damn it, Alex.”

“And second,” he raises another finger before proclaiming firmly, “I’m proving you wrong.” 

“Proving me wrong?” you articulate with a scoff. “You’re going to prove me wrong? Right, keep dreaming.”

“I’m not going to prove you wrong, I am proving you wrong," he insists before shifting the car to neutral and leaning in toward you, gaze brimming with conviction locked with your own wary ones, as if ready to spill a secret sworn by the two of you and hidden from the rest of the universe. 

He's close enough for his minty breath to graze your burning cheeks, to breathe a vigorous life previously unknown by your dull five years. Heart pumping and lungs barely working, daring not to budge for being caught under the sway of his gravitational force, you can hardly catch him when he finally speaks.

"I haven't forgotten, Y/N,” he utters, “I'm a man of my word."

❀ ❀ ❀

Promise one. 

"I'll cook every meal for you for an entire day."

Promise two. 

"I'll bring flowers to you at work."

His unabashed, overly detailed tactic to ask for your hand in marriage still echoes from a time long past. Hopes for those promises were weakened by each passing second but unequivocally unassailed at birth. Eventually, smothered and disheartened, you had been forced to cut ties and confront the reality of broken promises and broken dreams. You had once somehow convinced yourself things would never return to the ways they once were, and, yet, here he is having returned by your side and here you are enraptured by the utter joy in his laughs after all this wavering time. 

It's like a dream come true; and if this indeed all just a nightmarish dream bound to death, you wish you never swore allyship to this alcohol, for now your only wish is for it to succumb you into a deep, long slumber. 

“I toooooooold you I don’t like paaaaasta!” you whine, the drag of your voice manifesting in white puffs in the still chilly spring air. The sudden transition between the warmth of his house to the frozen world outside has you spiraling into a series of trips and stumbles; and as always, your best friend Jin is the only one to hold you up, which is a good thing considering how you would’ve been tumbling into the death trap of a river beneath this bridge. “So whyyyy did you make me pastaaaaaaa? Whyyyyyyy?”

“What? Why’re you blaming me?” he retorts, obviously taking offence. “You always loved pasta! You ate it every single day at uni!” 

“I diiiiid love pasta,” you say through barely parted lips, “but it’s all just… just carbs, carbs, carbssss…” 

“Since when did you care about carbs?” Jin frowns, poking your cheeks that lean against his sturdy arms. “Should I call the police?” 

Your brows furrow and you lift your head to narrow your eyes at him, “what? Why?” 

And as soon as those words slip from your lips and he raises his finger-gun hands, you wish you hadn’t asked in the first place. 

“Because I think you’re an impasta,” his finger guns transform into jazz hands after you stare at him in dumbfounded silence, “...badumtsss….”

A series of empty blinks are exchanged, as if neither of you had just witnessed his most tragic dad joke to date; and so, you swiftly continue with a sigh, “I think… I think I started caring ever since heee mentioned I was getting fat.”

“I can’t believe you just ignored my unprecedented joke…” he grumbles to himself but lets out a little huff when he catches you from tipping over. Wordlessly, he hooks his arm with yours to keep you close to him. “And this ‘he’ you mention, who’s he?” 

“Heee.” 

“Who? Who’s ‘heeee’?” he spouts with pouty lips and a raised chin, flailings his body, and therefore yours, about every which way like a toddler. “Who’s this man I have to beat up, huh? He better square up!”

“I don’t think you could beat him up…” you mumble, eyes heavy but determined enough to reach his own flabbergasted ones. “It’s Jooooon, dummy, Kim-Nam-Joon, the boy I shared my first kiiiiss with…”

“Kim Namjoon?!” his eyes widen. “You think I wouldn’t be able to beat up that nerd?!”

You almost manage to push Jin away the foot of the bridge if it weren’t for his firm lock around you. “Have you seen his muscles?! He might not look like it with his books and all but he worked out all the time!”

“Yeah, well,” his lips sputter, “well, have you seen my muscles?!”

“No—” you freeze when you realize the sturdiness of his arm against your head is existing proof against your word, and maybe it’s because of his obvious flexing at this moment, but you could not believe just how built his arms had grown in the past five years, “—and I don’t want to.” 

“Hah! You just don’t want to admit that I’m right. C’mon, I’ll show you. You feel it, huh? You feel it?” he flexes persistently, twisting and turning to maximize his little showcase. “So? You think I can beat him up now?” 

“Well…” your voice trails off, mind clearly preoccupied with sticking your cheeks to his arm like glue in a somewhat fruitful attempt to hide the flush in your face. “You don’t really need to beat him up…”

“What?” he almost yells. “Why not? He called you fat!”

“Well, he…” your shoulders rise with each confession, “he said one of my dresses looked tight on me…”

“And?”

“...and he wasn’t exactly wrong…”

“So?”

“...so he didn’t actually say anything offhandedly…”

“What? You should’ve told me earlier!” Jin exclaims, arms thrown high into the air and consequently pushing your helpless self onto the hillside grass beside the run of the river. Lips gaping and eyes popping, you watch him in full offense as he mumbles to himself before resuming his stroll down the hill. “And here I am getting worked up over nothing… can’t believe I thought I could play hero for once…”

“Hey, Jin, what do you mean by that?” you call out to him. “Wait! I said wait for me, Jin!”

When your rhetorical questions are answered with silence, you hasten to your feet in order to catch up with those damn wide strides of his. Damn it, how did he make it halfway down the hill already? Each of your exclamations are unsurprisingly disobeyed by the boy who just throws his head back over his shoulder with that cheeky grin of his as he quickened his pace. Following suit, your strides turn into a jog and your jogs turn into a full out sprint until the both of you are full on running the 100 meters dash, one chasing and one fleeing, wind blowing refreshingly into your heated face and into your tangled locks and inflated lungs that relish in the breath of life. 

In the midst of all the chaotic bliss of an epiphany, you find yourself screaming and laughing at the top of your lungs...

“Hey! Jin! I swear I”m gonna kick your ass!”

...and it’s at this moment in time that you realize having forgotten what it means to be a fool who lived and not to live to be a fool. 

At some point in time, after having caught up to the knucklehead and giving a piece of your mind, the two of you settle down along the concrete ledge beside the river after a jittery, welcomed high. The sunset that followed was a pleasant surprise that had you two reminiscing over the countless mornings and evenings you had spent watching the sun rise and set together whilst churning throughout tireless exam nights. Pink, golden streaks now hidden behind a thick coating of midnight blue embellished by magical glitters all throughout, tonight’s stargazing becomes a first for the two of you. 

As much as you hoped you could numb yourself from the inevitable aftereffects of this death wish of a dreamy day, you can’t help but smile, thankful to have been completely sober to engrave this night into memory. 

“So...” Jin’s utter is the first to break the silence. He turns his head to give you a playful look of eyes that beams with wary curiosity, “...you started dating Namjoon after I left?”

“Mm… maybe,” you hum, “why? Got a problem with that?”

“What? Psh, what? Why would I have a problem with that?” he snorts. “The only problem I would have is the fact that you never asked me for permission.”

Your eyes widen, almost threateningly, “are you saying I need permission from a man to date another man? Not to mention a man who abandoned me without warning!” 

“Okay, first of all, it’s not my fault you cancelled your phone plan! I called and called, I tried everything I could even though I was deadbeat tired every day. It’s not my fault I thought you hated my guts! So please just understand that I didn’t abandon you, alright?” he spills in an endless stream akin to a water faucet left on the highest setting, clearly a performance either practiced in private or incited by years of pent up pressure. You can practically see the steam shooting out of his fiery red ears and the accompanying whistle manifesting into words; and by the time his chest is heaving, his lungs are panting and very dramatically so, and his eyes flicker nervously between you and the passing water, you can’t help but snicker. Unsurprisingly, your lack of empathy elicits an unamused look on his face. “Hey, hey, what’re you laughing at, huh?” 

“Me? Oh, nothing,” your hands move into your laps and you bat your eyes innocently, “it’s just that I can’t believe you’re blaming me, a helpless, poor girl with absolutely no connections, for cancelling her phone plan as a last resort to make ends meet.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he warns with an accusatory finger, “don’t you dare think I’ll fall for that eye blinking and whatever cute act you’re playing up again!” 

“Why?” you pout, almost cringing at your own antics. “Am I not cute?”

“No, you’re hurting my eyes. Plus, if anyone’s cute here,” he declares adamantly before puffing his cheeks and poking one with his forefinger, “it’s me.”

The both of you stare at the other for a stagnant few seconds, one completely dedicated to his performance and the other utterly flabbergasted by what plays out before her. 

The only word you manage to crank out is a, “uh…”

“What do you think?” he raises another finger to poke his other cheek. “I practiced just for you.” 

“Um… you’re 27 now, Jin.”

“So?” he tilts his head in the other direction. “Still 22 and young at heart.”

“Yeah? Then I’m still 22 and still equally disgusted by aegyo—” just as he parts his lips to provide another rebuttal, you quickly add in “—by your aegyo.” 

And just like that, the man drops his boyish character just as quickly as he had stepped into it. He mumbles, dropping his hands and shooting an equivocate look at you, “okay, tough crowd. Sorry, ma’am.”

It shouldn’t have been that hilarious nor should your response been so delayed, but it only takes a split second of his surrender for a thunderous cackle to slip from your lips. Throwing your head back and peering at the dangling stars above, you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath of the incoming wind. The fresh petrichor of spring and the earthiness of mowed grass whisks themselves into the cold, clean breeze from the vast body of water. Thin locks of hair grazes across your cheeks, swaying in the wind as does your spirit. Years are lifted from your shoulders and all that is left is the heaviness that remains in your chest; nevertheless, you have never felt so free from the past. 

“Also,” he adds nonchalantly, cocking his head to look at you, “I wasn’t speaking from the position of a man. I was speaking as a best friend. As your best friend.” 

And just like that, sitting side by side and sharing a cool breeze, it’s almost as if all these moments of remorse, spilled tears, and unreleased frustration were made to build the climax to this grand finale: the night you can finally speak your truth. 

“It’s funny how things never change, huh?” you say when your eyes flutter open and you find Jin looking over with a fondness identical to the one you’ve spotted years before. “We can split for five years, thinking one hates the other’s guts, and reunite again as best friends… as if nothing had ever happened.”

Jin chuckles, hands grabbing to the ledge and head lolling back to join you but his eyes remain fixated on you, “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Are we vampires and we just don’t know it?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure either… not sure about the good thing and not the vampire thing, that is,” your laugh settles into silence when you spot the reflected light inflicted by the ring around his finger, sitting on the ledge just an inch away from yours. Close enough to touch but far enough to confirm an unequivocal truth. Sighing, you turn your head to meet his intent gaze with a bittersweet upturn to your lips, “normally, I really despise the idea of change; but lately, when I think about how things might never change between us, how we’ll always banter as a pair of stupid best friends, I start wanting it more than ever.”

Is this the moment? Is it all really happening right now? Judging by the course of your blithe actions, if change is what you’re looking for, then change is what will surely ensue after tonight. Whether for the good or for the worse, you’ll take a reluctant guess of the latter. 

The man scrunches his brows before playing it off with a nervous laugh, “what do you mean things haven’t changed? You dated Namjoon, probably got it on a few times here or there—”

“—what—”

“—please don’t confirm,” he butts in with a raised hand, “and I have, too. Sure things have changed!”

“Ooh?” you raise a brow, genuinely shocked. “You finally got some experience under your belt? I’m impressed, Mr. Kim.”

“Hey,” he scolds, “what do you mean by ‘impressed?’” 

“Well, I should’ve known… figuring you’re about to be a married man and all…” you mumble, forcing a smile despite the sudden dip in your mood. Turning your head to stare off into the opposite end of the river where the black silhouette of skyscrapers lie, you curse yourself mentally. You really thought you could get away with the inevitable truth for the entire day? “You know, I can’t believe I almost forgot that you’re getting married in less than a week. Almost like how I couldn’t believe you almost forgot our promises.”

“I told you Kim Seokjin is a man of his words.”

“You sure about that? Promise one: cook for me for an entire day. Check. Promise two: gift me flowers at work. Check,” you turn around once again to look him firmly in the eyes and it’s almost as if the both of you know what’s about to come next. “What about the three other promises, Kim Seokjin?” 

“Y/N…” his voice trails off but his gaze never leaves yours, almost as if too afraid to be misconstrued as another betrayal. 

Quick-mindedly, you chime, “stop looking at me so seriously! I’m just joking! Promise three: you won’t break my heart. How could you after a wonderful day like this? Promise four: you won’t forget our promises. Clearly, you remember. And promise five: you’ll keep all your promises. Check.”

“Y/N,” he stifles every wince but you can tell by the way his feet have stopped kicking into the void. “I don’t think I’ve kept all those promises.” 

“Well,” you shrug, pressing your lips into a line tightly, “I only see checks in my book, Jin. You’re good to go—”

“—no, Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he says sternly; and when your mouth falls agape and your head slightly nods, his wary eyes searching for a steady sign in the windows to your soul, he continues calmly, “my marriage is actually an arranged marriage.”

“Your—” you blink blankly, jaw almost falling to the floor “—your, you, what?”

An arranged marriage. 

All this time, all this pain, all this heartbreak of wanting to do something about your feelings but remaining hopeless because of an unrequited love… turns out to be an active, fully conscious decision? Not a falling out of love, not a helpless affection for another woman, but a matchmaking handcrafted without the heavens?

“My,” he has to stop himself just as his breath hitches, “my father... arranged it. ” 

“What? Why? Is it because he prefers you with a well off family?” 

“What? No,” he shakes his head with a slight upcurve to his lips that you’ve never quite seen before. Watching him hook a hand to the nape of his neck, clearly avoiding your eyes, you have an inkling of something much worse than the presented news. “You know my father would never do that… it has nothing to do with money...”  

“But you left this town for money, didn’t you? For a better job, a better pay, a better life, and for the sake of your dignity as a dutiful son, are you telling me none of those were related to money?” 

His eye twitches by your name-calling, clearly pained once again despite knowing very well of your precedent dislike toward his silver spoon background and his nonnegotiable obedience. Each second of silence culminates a tension even more formidable than the last. Guilt intoxicates your boiling blood enough for you to bite your tongue and hold yourself back; because after accusing him of holding onto his dignity, you, yourself, could not forfeit that of your own either. 

Worse yet, you’re a complete hypocrite. 

“Why can’t you just tell him to call it off?” 

You never knew silence could be so deafening.

“So… so do you...” you begin hesitantly. Usually, with your eyes locked with his, a thousand words would have been exchanged with each passing second; but now, with gazes that wade through the tides of the unknown, for the first time ever, you don’t recognize the mystery before you. “Do you... love her?” 

His lips part slowly, but no time in the world would be enough for him to find the right words. To you, his silence is as clear as any possible answer. Something sinks in you, perhaps after acknowledging the implications behind his choice to leave your question unanswered, but your blood boils from the audacity of those apologetic eyes that, even now, never stray from yours… as if this minute of sincerity would be enough to mend the inevitable decade of scars. 

You begin slowly, failing to hide the shakiness of your deep breaths, “...then what about the baby?”

“What baby...?” his face contorts with a frown until, out of the blue, something flickers across his numerous expressions: confusion, remembrance, contemplation. His hesitation that ensues might have been fleeting but its infliction upon your shattered trust will surely remain. “Oh, that… that was just a rumor my aunt spread because of the sudden marriage.” 

“And,” you force yourself to breathe, scattering for something, anything to throw at him, “and you don’t think you could’ve told me sooner?”

The man scrunches his brows, “and that would’ve helped, how?” 

“‘How?’” you repeat, as if it was the dumbest question you had ever heard. Mirroring his expression, your eyes avert between him and the river as scoffs of utter disbelief escape you. “‘How?’ What do you mean ‘how?’”

“I mean exactly that!” his voice suddenly escalates to a level of frustration you’ve never quite heard from him before. “How would it have changed anything? Why would you need to know earlier?”

Gawking, you exasperate desperately, “you know why!” 

“No, I might be your best friend but don’t expect me to just read your mind!”

“It’s cause...” you swing your leg over the ledge to face the sidewalk with your back on Jin as soon as you could feel an incoming constriction at the back of your throat, a notorious sign shared just between the two of you that waterworks were about to appear. Breathing slowly and doing just about everything to keep your voice from shaking, and fruitlessly so, you mumble before standing to your feet, “...you know what? I don’t even know anymore. I’m sorry. Nevermind.”

Why did you ever think you would have a chance? 

Is this it? Is this really it? The end? 

The questions come crashing into you as you make your retreat, head hanging low and palms drying the inconvenient tears that mark your face. After all the confidence you had built up, after finally thinking—actually, believing—you could get over him tonight, how humiliating is it that you’re now running away from a reality that would eventually and inevitably engulf you? 

The worst part of it is, Jin, like the best friend and good man that he is, persists to chase after you. You don’t have to hear the quickened footsteps of his usual wide, well-paced strides to know he’s coming. You don’t have to hear the calls he makes on the top of his lungs for you to know he’s on his way. 

As someone who so helplessly fell in love with their best friend, you just know he would be there through thick and thin—whether you like it or not. 

“Y/N!” Jin hollers; and when he finally catches up to you, having to sprint and consequently inciting for you to surrender with an abrupt stop to your path, every bit of air is knocked from your lungs. Arms wrapping over your waist and enveloping you into a tight hug, you can feel his heart pounding against your back. 

To most, it should have been the perfect method to comfort a crying friend; so, damn it, why does it only make you cry harder? 

“What?” your voice cracks as you just barely manage to smear the following tears within the wrap of his bear hug. “Damn it, Jin, why can’t you leave me alone for once?”

Head resting on yours, his voice is muffled by your hair as he murmurs, “I can’t just leave my best friend crying like that. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.” 

He embraces you. He embraces you not only physically through the silence but also through the emotional rollercoaster that comes with it. He, Kim Seokjin, your best friend, holds you through the ups and downs and the rights and the wrongs. He even holds you now, comforting you in the hurricane that you brewed without ever knowing and never caring that he had, in fact, not committed any wrongdoing. If anything, you must be in the wrong. 

And when you put it that way, how could you blame yourself for falling in love with him?

“Jin… I’m sorry, I tried everything to stop myself but,” your voice shakes but your courage prospers, “but I just, I just really, really love you.” 

A second passes. 

Now, two. 

Then, three. 

Something strikes against your chest when the surreality of the situation settles into reality. His silence could mean many things, but the tightening of his embrace could only mean one. Blood flushes your cheeks as you lament over his sensation of your fervent heartbeats. Secrets thrown out into the spring air, your heated cheeks are equally exposed to the passing, chilly zephyr. 

He knows you love him. At this moment, he can physically feel the proof of your love and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

“Sorry,” you manage to blurt under your breath, “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said—”

—the remaining words dissipate into thin air when he places his hands firmly on your shoulder and whirls you around. Face just inches away from his, you barely catch wind of his declaration before the unthinkable occurs…

“Too late. I don’t want to.”

...and his lips meet yours. 

It’s everything you have ever imagined. Years of admiring those plush lips, wondering what it would be like to feel the warmth of those wonders pressed against yours, are finally coming to fruition… except they don’t. His hands fall from your shoulders to the small of your back, but your hands don’t intertwine behind the back of his neck like you imagined. Instead, they hover in midair, hesitant to embrace him in your arms. Why? With your eyes and his fluttered closed and an audible deep sigh that signals a desire finally satisfied from the both of you, reality still manages to twist a dream-come-true. 

Does he actually love you or does he only pity you?

Finally, and ever so suddenly, your hands firmly push against his chest to plant an arm’s distance from you and him.

“Sorry…” you pant, avoiding those intense eyes. “We… we can’t do this.” 

“What?” Jin raises a brow, taking a step forward as you take one back. “Why not?”

Wordlessly, you point at his ring finger.

“Oh,” he chuckles nervously, hand scratching the back of his neck. You can only watch his every move, your stare gradually becoming a glare. Rosy hues coloring his cheeks, he speaks sheepishly, “I forgot we’re in public.”

His nonchalance irks you to your core. There isn’t any other way to put it. Blithe and dense have always been your favorite traits of his, but now that he’s here? Planting buds he could never sustain and sending mixed signals despite knowing of your feelings in an unfitting circumstance were never things you knew Jin for.  

“I-I don’t get it, Jin,” you shake your head. “I don’t think we should see each other any more. In any context. Not even after the wedding.” 

With his hands buried into his pockets and shoulders high enough to hide his reddened ears, he glances up at you, alert. “What? Why? What don’t you get?”

“It’s ‘cause... I just don’t get… this. I don’t get us,” you articulate, struggling to find the right words. “Why are you so… nonchalant about this? Why are you kissing me? Is it out of pity? Is it because I said I liked you—”

“—Y/N,” he says lowly like the drop of his previously cheerful mien, “you know I would never do something like that.” 

“Then why?! Why are you doing this to me? Do you love her or not?” you pause for a second to stifle the crack in your voice but, alas, all is in vain. “...and do you even… love me?”

He frowns, the tension in his body evident by the knitting of his brows as he struggles, “I… Y/N...”

“So you can’t admit that you love her and you can’t even lie to say you love me. So why the hell are you throwing away an entire marriage just to kiss me?” your scoff comes out more so like a plea. “You’re confusing me, Jin—”

“—that’s,” he abruptly pauses to stop himself from exploding, taking a deep breath before continuing, “that’s exactly why I can’t say it, Y/N! I don’t want to confuse you. I don’t want to disappoint my father. I-I don’t want to complicate matters more!”

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?!”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know! It was a spur of the moment! I couldn’t stop myself from chasing after you and when I hugged you—I-I just wanted to, alright? I’m sorry.”

He’s... sorry. 

Sorry for kissing you, sorry for acting as if your feelings had been reciprocated, sorry for breaking all the promises he made and pretending like he was going to patch things up again tonight. Speaking your mind and hearing his words are all that you need to finally understand what you need to do. Your heart drops but you hold your head high because your final verdict is the right thing to do. Maybe this time you’ll finally be able to cease these useless feelings. What's the point in pursuing a hopeless love? 

The only one you would be hurting is yourself. 

This epiphany, in itself, is enough to drape an ephemeral clarity over your frenzic self; and just like a bandaid over a scar, you’re able to function, if only just temporarily.

“Hey, Jin?” you call out softly to the boy kicking at nothing on the bare sidewalk. It’s hard not to melt under the delicate glance he throws over his shoulder. “I’m not… mad. Well, I kind of am. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry for everything that I said about your upbringing. I know how close you are to your family. I’m sure you’ve been under a lot of pressure…”

“No, Y/N,” he shakes his head, turning his body to face you with a low hanging head, “it’s my fault. Even considering all that, I still shouldn’t have done that or any of this. I… I’m sorry for confusing you.”

Forcing a composed smile, you persevere, “do you have your fiance’s number?”

Head lifting with a frown, he answers, “yeah, what kind of a fiance would I be if I didn’t? Why though?”

“Right,” you say to yourself under your breath, hearing his ‘fiance’ echo relentlessly in your head. “I just need it, okay? To… to sort out everything...”

And just when you wonder how insensitive could this boy get...

“What?” he chuckles. “Are you going to fight for me?”

...it gets worse.

Rolling your eyes, you give him a hard, well-deserved slap against the chest before snickering at his loud wince and declaring your one last confession of the night. 

“No, I could fight for us, but I won’t singlehandedly fight for you,” you then declare with a bitter smile, “I will, however, tell her how jealous I am.”

And that's your most irrefutable confession, one that has Jin stupefied for the future midnights to come.

❀ ❀ ❀

Morning arrives much sooner than you had anticipated. White puffs mark the air whilst you wrap yet another layer of scarf around your neck. It seems as though the breeze from a night ago had intentionally danced around town, lingering and spectating on the resolution of your five year long love conundrum. Ironically enough, the two of you reunite at the very spot where everything had first started… except this time, everything will finally end.

The pain he had marked in you inflicted by the words he could not bring himself to say still stains your every waking second.

“You have to do this. You can do this,” you incessantly chant to yourself, pacing back and forth beside the most prominent cherry blossom tree in town. “You have to do this. You can do this—”

“—Y/N, is that you?”

What you presume to be Youngji’s voice perks your ears. Looking up, you spot her holding a phone in her hands as she flickers between you and her screen. A quizzical quirk of the brow plasters across your face as you wave at her and she jogs over to you as quickly as she could in that pink, wool poncho and those tan, fluffy boots. “Hey, Youngji, right?” 

“Yeah,” she says in between each pant of breath, “that’s me.” 

Her hands immediately find refuge on her knees whilst she bends over to catch her breath. Typically, you’re the very self-aware type, but there isn’t anything you could do to stop yourself from staring. The girl strikes you as… flamboyant. With her dark red pigtails, bright smile, and dainty attire, she’s everything you’ve always imagined a female version of Jin would be like. It’s hard not to wonder… maybe an arranged marriage really can be a match made in heaven, but you force yourself out of that rabbit hole before having another breakdown in front of an innocent stranger. 

The tang of jealousy, however, refuses to budge. 

“Sorry, for,” she pants, holding her hand up to show you her phone screen, “calling out to you like that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you squint at the sight of the screen displaying a candid photo of you, taken on this very street on that very day, as you stuffed one of his breads in your mouth. Drawn on your face is a mustache and a unibrow. “Did Jin do—”

“—Jin gave me a terrible reference photo.” 

Scoffing, you cross your arms, “damn it, Jin.”

Youngji crackles into a firework of uncontrollable laughter, rendering you stupefied. After a literal minute passes by, she finally manages to speak in between the bursts of giggles that follow, “you two—” giggle “—really are—” giggle “—close, huh?” And as a grand finale, she slaps her stomach with a loud sigh of relief that her laughs have come to an end. When she notices you staring at her bewilderedly, a light bulb flashes through her as she gasps and feigns a whimper, “o-oh! Ow! M-my baby!”

“You know you don’t have to pretend, right?” you can only let out a laugh of disbelief because you still can’t take in the mirror image your best friend. “Jin already told me about the fake pregnancy.” 

“Oh, in that case,” she smiles widely before giving her stomach one more big, satisfying slap, “see, you guys really are so close!” 

“I… I guess. I’m not sure if taking me out for one day after five years of radio silence really counts as close, though,” you then quickly add in with raised hands, “he only did so out of obligation, though! I swear it was nothing more!”

“Hmmm?” she hums, leaning in a curious ear with a cheshire-like smile. “Is it because of those promises he made?”

“...yeah, wait, he told you about those?” 

Of course he did, idiot, they’re engaged. 

“Well, something like that,” she shrugs, “so how much did he tell you?”

“About?” 

“About the wedding, silly!” 

“Uh, nothing much really. The pregnancy was a false rumor, the marriage was arranged by his father…”

“Father?” she inquires, watching you closely with those big, round eyeballs of hers. 

“Yes?” you hesitantly nod. “Father?” 

“Ah,” she nods, as if she finally catches drift of something, “I see.” 

“Oh yeah,” you add, “I also found out it’s on my birthday.”

“What?!” her eyes grow wider, if they even possibly can. “Jin never told me that! What the heck, man? A wedding? On his best friend’s birthday?!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know right?” you nod passively before coming to an abrupt stop. “Wait, what? Why does it matter to you?”

“Of course it matters to me! You’re Jin’s best friend, aren’t you? You have no idea how much he talks about you back home. I know you so well that sometimes I feel like you might be my best friend,” she chimes before reaching out to cup your hands in hers. “Let’s celebrate properly with Jin after the wedding, okay?” 

“Um, sure…”

But you don’t exactly plan on unnecessarily sticking around his life for any longer than the wedding… except, seeing how close she must be with Jin in addition to her loose-lip impression, you decide not to tell her that. 

“So,” she drops her hands to the side, “what did you need to tell me?” 

Why did you call her to meet you here again? After witnessing her flamboyant entrance, it’s hard for you to keep yourself from derailing. 

“Oh, um,” you scratch the back of your head awkwardly, “I just wanted to meet my best friend’s fiance, that’s all.”

“Ahhh, I see.”

The woman pauses, nodding at you intently almost as if waiting for the real intentions to be revealed. Damn it, either you’re a literal open book or she reincarnated from the same soul as Jin’s. 

“So…” you purse your lips. “Are you okay with it? The arranged marriage, I mean?” 

“Well,” she shrugs, finally dropping the smile from her lips. “At first I hated the thought of it. I felt like I didn’t really have a choice, but… when I met Jin—” a smile is hinted in the corner of her lips and in the sparkle of her eyes “—I thought ‘I’m pretty lucky girl, aren’t I?’ I think the world must have finally taken pity on me.”

A soft, stifled laugh slips from you as your eyes fall to the ground and a bittersweet smile accompanies your lips, “yeah, you’re pretty lucky.” 

“Don’t get me wrong though,” your eyes immediately shoot up to find her raising defensive hands, “it wasn’t some sort of a love at first sight. He’s handsome, sure, but—”

“—a marriage is a lifelong commitment—”

“—exactly,” she sighs, “I didn’t really know him, but when I was forced to spend time with him… I thought if I had to get married, then he would be the best option. He’s not a bad guy.” 

“No,” you smile in your reverie, shaking your head, “he's not a bad guy at all; and when you really get to know him, his stupid dorky self, I think it’s impossible not to fall for him.” 

“Yeah?” 

“He’s mean when he jokes around but he’s actually very kind, he’s sensitive when you poke him where it hurts but he hides it deceptively well, he’ll apologize for being wrong when the both of you clearly know you’re in the wrong, he’ll cook and wear the hottest pink clothes he can find because ‘to hell with societal norms,’ he’ll tell you the dumbest dad jokes but I promise you’ll get used to them eventually, ” you let out a reminiscent laugh that comes out more like a sigh, “and, sometimes, very rarely, he’ll hurt you unintentionally, of course, but he’ll always go out of his way to make it up because that’s just… that’s Jin. That’s my best friend.” 

A breeze passes by to perfectly mark the end of your cadence. Branches rustle above you and freshly budded cherry blossom petals flutter their way toward the grass underneath the two of you only to be risen once again by a following zephyr. Having been there throughout his and your lives, it’s almost as if the long-standing tree is agreeing to attest to your words. 

“Wow,” Youngji finally says after witnessing your truthful albeit embarrassing spoken love letter, “I… I wouldn’t doubt any of it… but why are you telling me? Shouldn’t you be telling Jin?” 

“I’m telling you, because,” you emphasize, “because I'm jealous of your position but I can't do anything about it so I want you to take good care of Jin. I just… I need to know he’ll be in good hands. I want him to be loved like the way that he loves. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Youngji just nods. It’s the most somber response you’ve ever seen from her. Almost like the joining of hands in marriage has finally become reality. 

“Do you…” you struggle to squeeze out of the knot in your throat, “do you love him…?” 

“Y/N—” she begins but suddenly lets go of whatever she must have had planned “—yes, yes I do.” 

“And… you’ll take care of him?” 

Youngji bobs her head lightly, “yes, I will.”

“Promise?” 

“...promise.”

“Okay, then I’m entrusting him to you, and,” you smile, leaning forward to shake her hands before heaving one last sigh, “and this time, please keep the promise.” 

❀ ❀ ❀

A curse sinks into the thickness of the sapphire dusk that quickly descends upon the hushed city. Keys tinkle to decorate the silence of tonight’s resting wind, a silence that would have been accompanied by an equally passive woman and an oblivious man whose hands persist to fumble to his guest’s dismay. 

Standing before a small willow, vintage-looking store tucked away in the corner of downtown, an inaudible breath ascends a cloud of white that momentarily shrouds the grand interior peeking from spotless windows that line the exterior. Golden warm studio lights illuminate the gorgeously exquisite ivory gowns from the trailing trains up to its waterfalls of dainty veils. Velvet suits and satin neckties accompany each headless mannequin, welcoming each passerby to imagine themselves in their wildest fairytales… your hand in his and his in yours as a fleeting moment becomes a sealed promise of a lifelong loyalty. 

Breath completely taken away, you, yourself, almost fall prey to your own far-fetched dreams. 

“I thought I said we shouldn’t meet up anymore,” your forced mutters drag you from your short-lived reveries, “why did you bring me here?”

“You said we shouldn’t meet up anymore, yet here you are,” Jin chirps before cheering to himself under his breath once the key finally clicks into place, “yes! Old man must have purposely given me these rusty old keys.”

Crossing your arms, you retort, “I came because you said your close friend from home would be here, too.”

Turning around to face you with his back to the door and a hand on the golden knob, he raises a quizzical brow, “and… are you not my close friend from home?” 

“I thought you meant the other—”

“—this is my home, Y/N,” he says firmly, looking straight at you, “and I want my best friend to see me in my wedding suit before anyone else.” 

“But why me…?”

“Because I only care about your opinion.”

He answered without hesitation, but in your head you figure he must have forgotten about Youngji, the true spotlight of the show.

Gritting your teeth, a staredown begins between the two of you; but the longer you face those unequivocal looks of determination in his eyes, the hotter your cheeks become in the middle of a contrastingly chilly night.  

“Alright, fine.” 

“Thanks,” he gives you a small, lopsided smile before pushing the door open with his back and ushering you in with a slight bow, “ladies first.”

Your eyes roll but not for very long when you step foot into the store and your mouth falls agape. The ceiling is much higher than you had perceived from outside, the sides are lined with grand, wooden staircases that lead to a second floor where hundreds upon hundreds of white dresses and black suits find purchase along the hangers, and the click of your heels against the marble tiles of the entrance floor echo into the extravagant expanse. 

The wooden insulation of the store proves infallible when the door closes behind Jin and the shrewd air leaves you to a much more bearable surrounding. Standing affixed to the entrance, you watch as Jin strides toward the carpeted floor where a taupe curtain hanging from the ceiling drapes over a raised platform sits across its partner platform in the opposite of the room. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enraptured by something aside from me,” Jin chuckles as he begins stripping the suit off of a black, velvety mannequin before pointing at the mannequin standing beside the opposite platform, “oh, why don’t you try on some dresses while I’m at it?” 

“What?” you scoff, finally taking a step onto the carpet. “First off, I never stared at you like that before. Second, why the hell would I do that? It’s your wedding, not mine.” 

“I asked the store owner for permission and picked a dress for you to try on,” he continues, finally stopping in the midst of unbuttoning his white, collared shirt when he looks up to find the fear in your eyes. “Hey, haven’t you always wanted to try one of these?”

“Yeah,” you laugh in disbelief because he actually listened to your past rambles, “but never under these circumstances.”

“C’mon, you never know if you’ll ever have a chance like this again,” he gestures once more when he notices the start of your contemplation, “c’mon, go on!”

You really don’t want to. It’s that nagging feeling of something going completely wrong tonight if you were to succumb and let yourself go. After all, your worst fear is yourself. It doesn’t feel right and you begin to wonder if it’s alright for you to hold onto this moment you’ve always dreamed about: dolling up and swearing your vows side by side with Jin. 

If you were to live out your fairytale, just for tonight, would you finally be able to sleep dreamlessly at night? 

“...fine,” you groan and storm across the room, tossing your purse into the ruby sofas and stepping onto the platform. Turning around to face a gleeful Jin, you’re about to scowl at him until your eyes flicker between the cheeky grin on that youthful face and those sculpted abdomen of his elevated by the lighting above. Cheeks flushing red, you gulp at the unseen sight before clutching the curtain in your hands and swinging it closed with a mumble, “and at least have some decency and use the curtains, God damn it…”

The freezing touch of your hands doesn't hold a candle to the heat of your face. Trying to calm your racing heart, you curse to yourself at the way he merely cackles at you and, even worse, the way your heart intensifies in response. 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

“...shut up,” you say more to yourself and your deafening heart.

The gown standing before you, however, is no help to your case either, for when you glance over the dress, the long train that could awe an entire room, the complimenting silhouette that doesn’t scream too over-the-top but enough to fulfill the little girl within you, and the classic lace sleeves that you’ve gushed over whilst skimming through magazines, you realize Jin had always been attentive even when he was stuffing his face with bread or even when he was being petty over an argument and you tried to rectify with incessant small talk. 

It’s at this moment that you acknowledge the rabbit hole you had just willingly fallen into and the impossibility of its towering escape.

“So,” Jin calls out to you as the sound of rustling clothes fill the silent air, “what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?”

“My birthday? Oh, right,” you slam palm to your forehead, having dwelled over the marriage and consequently forgetting your own birthday. “Uh, nothing really. I haven’t really thought about it this year.” 

“Really? You? Y/N? Not planning her own birthday?” he gasps. “Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?”

“Oh, shut up. With age comes other problems to deal with...”

...problems like you.

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “You have to have something. You can’t tell me you’ve gotten every single thing checked off of that old ‘birthday gift ideas’ list you gave me.”

“I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m very far from it and it’s not like you were actually going to give me everything I asked for. Say, what did I even have on that list?” your eyes wander to the towering curtains that envelop you as your hands reach behind to the buttons on your back. “A bowl of your tofu soup, some pocket money, a matching sweater, a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a… ring.” The word slips from your lips and it floats in the stagnant air before you can even do anything about it. His silence rings in your ears, so you quickly add in, “but I don’t want materialistic stuff like that anymore.” 

“...oh, really?” 

“Nope,” you heave a heavy sigh and pat the poofy material of the skirt down, “I think I’ve come to realize that… I just want to be loved. I don’t need a dress or a necklace or a ring…  you wouldn’t understand, but I don’t just want to hear those words. I want to feel them. I want to be loved.” 

But only by him.

A lingering silence drifts long enough for you to start panicking until, finally, he answers, “no, I understand.” 

“...well,” you quickly chirp as you fumble with the lacey material of your dress, “enough about me, what do you want for your big day, hm?”

“Why would I need a present from you?” he remarks. You can hear him finishing his final touches and you can barely stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You’ve given me enough already.”

“You mean I’ve given you enough earfuls and tears,” you retort, clutching onto the curtains as you shut your eyes to muster every courage within you. “Isn’t there anything I can give you? Anything you want?”

Counting down to yourself, the curtains and drawn open in one, swift swing; and when your eyelids flutter open, you find him standing on the platform across from you, dressed in a classic black and white suit with the curtains clutched in his hands like a mirror image of you. He glances over you from head to toe, as you do to him, until the both of you settle in each other’s gazes for what seems like an eternity, willingly lost and ever-so-enraptured.

You almost forget this isn’t actually your wedding.

“This,” he answers with a soft smile, “this is enough.”  

“...stop it.”

JIn frowns, “stop what?”

“Stop… looking at me like that,” you articulate, hands covering your bashful grin. “It’s making me feel self-conscious.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I have such a good eye at picking clothes for you!” he says whilst pointing an accusatory finger. “I guess 22 year old Jin had a pretty good sense of fashion after all.” 

“You picked this five years ago…?” 

The man shrugs but his high chin says otherwise regarding his humility, “I told you Kim Seokjin is a prepared man of his word.” Eyes peering across to wink at you, he continues a bit more seriously, “I might not be able to fulfill all of our promises, but this is the closest I can to it.” 

“Jin… you’re…” you laugh in disbelief, bashfully avoiding his intent gaze, “...you’re so incredibly stupid that I can feel it from all the way here.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he grins mischievously and takes a step toward you and off the platform. “How about now?”

“Stop it, don’t spread your stupidity to me.”

He spreads his arms out wide whilst taking another few steps forward, “why not? Aren’t we supposed to be together through thick and thin?”

“No, not really,” you adamantly shake your head amidst a hysterical fit of giggles, “don’t come any closer.” 

“Oh, no,” he feigns worry. Another footstep. “I can’t stop myself.” He approaches even closer. “The stupidity is spreading!” 

With him just a footstep away, you cower behind the shield of your hands, “stop it, stop looking at me like that—”

—and just as you squeal, his arms wrap around you to pull you into a tight embrace.

Like two lost puzzle pieces, his hands fit perfectly in the small of your back and his chin rests comfortably in the crook of your neck. His hair grazes against your burning cheeks. His scent envelops you into a rosy haze. He could probably feel the beat of your chest against his, but you wouldn’t know when you’re preoccupied by the thuds of his own. You had never been aware of the lonesome emptiness you’ve felt all these years until now, under the warmth of his touch that completes your other half. 

You almost forget to breathe until he takes a deep breath and lets out a slow, dreary sigh. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Under any other circumstances, you would have smacked him for lying. Perhaps it’s the stir of the starry skies or the impending occasion or even the look he made on his way to you with a gaze that oozed with absolute adoration, but something tells you he’s being his genuine self tonight… and that’s what you fear the most. 

“You shouldn’t be saying that, Jin,” you say, stroking his head buried in your shoulder, “and you shouldn’t be looking at any women but Youngji with those eyes.” 

Whether he’s quietly reflecting or stubbornly disagreeing, Jin remains silent. His breath entangles with yours, syncing with the wavelengths that you two have been running for an ongoing seven years and, perhaps, beyond. 

He frustrates you to your wits’ end. There’s nothing he hasn’t made you question. At times, when you’re tossing and turning in bed and hoping for a way out of that cavern of a mind, you wish time could skip to a year in which the voices no longer haunt you at night; and yet, when you’re here buried in his arms, you would do anything to freeze and relish this fragment in time. 

It isn’t right. You two aren’t right and you know it isn’t right… but how do you deny yourself of the cure to those deep scars when he, himself, wishes to be downed? 

It takes everything in you to finally drop your hands from his locks to his shoulder. Just as you’re about to deny the tempting elixir, Jin lifts his head along with his gaze that now meets yours, “Y/N, I have something I need to tell you.”

“...y-yeah?” 

The windows to his soul twinkle underneath the dim chandeliers above. Those starry dark brown eyes simply take your breath away.

“My dad,” his voice quivers like the water that wells in his eyes; and when you know he’s about to bawl, you pat his head ever-so-endearingly. Gulping, he finds the courage to continue, “he’s sick.” 

“Oh... oh, Jin,” you murmur, quickly wiping the few tears that drop onto his flush cheeks before bringing him into another tight embrace. “I’m sorry.” 

“I only moved—” and that’s what cracks his buoyant front into a full on bawl  “—I only moved to take care of him!”

“I understand.” 

He shakes his head, “I didn’t want to abandon you!” 

“No, Jin, I know,” your voice is buried underneath his whimpers, “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t know things would turn out like this!” he cries, holding you even closer. “I didn’t know!” 

“It’s okay, Jin. Really, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.” 

“No, it won’t be okay,” his voice hitches in the midst of his hiccups, “my father is dying and now I’m walking down the aisle with a woman I don’t even love!” 

Your strokes come to a temporary stop because how could fate be so twisted? Who is it to decide whose time shall begin and whose time is up? You have to hold your breath along with the waterworks that sour your eyes. You can’t cry now. He needs your stability.

He needs you. 

“Did you…” you take a shaky breath, leaning back to watch him cover the messy state of his face, “did you tell your dad?”

“I-I couldn’t,” he stutters, voice muffled by his voice, “you know how long he’s been waiting for this.”

I know,” you ponder for a second before hesitating to continue, “...why didn’t you consider me?” 

“I—” his hiccup interrupts him as he roughly smears his tear-stained cheeks with his palms “—I thought you hated me. I didn’t think you would agree. I thought our promises were just a joke. But when you confessed that night, when you said you would fight for us—” his voice cracks again as he laughs at himself, eyes to the ground “—I thought damn, fuck, how did I mess up so hard? I should have fought for us. I’m so stupid—”

“—no you’re not—”

“—so fucking stupid!” 

His self-reprimanding curse echoes in the room. Each of his demeaning scorns inciting a fiery justice in you. 

“No,” you state, “you’re not stupid.” 

Without the dignity to face you, his hands clenched into fist and he continues with bangs shrouding his sorrowful eyes, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I hurt you—”

“—no, Jin, you did not—”

“—I messed us up—”

“—no, Jin, look at me, hey, look at me,” you place a finger under his chin to lift his spirits until those bloodshot eyes of his find refuge in yours. Smiling, you speak, “see? I’m okay. So what are you apologizing for?”  

“Aren’t you… mad?” 

“Mad? No, silly,” you laugh, wiping another tear. “Sad? Maybe.”

“See—”

“—sad because I wasn’t there by your side when you needed me… and maybe a bit sad that I won’t be the one holding you like this tomorrow,” you apologize with a soft smile over the latter jab that incites a wince from the boy. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father?” 

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” he hiccups, “and when I found out, I tried to call you but it didn’t go through.”

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, “I’m sorry.” 

“No,” he takes a deep breath to calm his high, “it’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either,” you affirm, breaking out into a laugh when you take another look at his reddened eyes and dampened cheeks. “Look at you! Why are you looking like a mess on our wedding day, huh?! At least let us be ignorantly happy for one day!” 

“What…?” he frowns whilst hastily smearing every last evidence of his breakdown on his face. The result is an equally red, irritated skin across his cheeks. “What’re you talking about? Kim Seokjin never looks like a mess… hey, what’re you laughing at?!” 

“Look at your tie, idiot! What kind of a rich son are you if you can’t even tie it correctly? Come over here,” you say just as you grab the end of his necktie to pull him up onto the platform. With his necktie now at your eye-level, you begin to unravel whatever knot he had attempted. All the while, you can feel his gaze as he watches you do your thing, completely enamored. This time, it’s your turn to turn red. To distract yourself from the rising self-consciousness, you clear your throat, “call me whenever you’re going through a hard time, okay? I’ll give you my new number…”

The piece of fabric flails around into equally atrocious knots that Jin had previously created until you groan in frustration and disassemble everything. You had practiced this so many times while he was gone, foolishly believing it would come in handy the day he returned, but why does nothing ever work out the way you want it to? 

“I swear it worked last time I tried…”

Your best friend just watches silently, chuckling as you wrap the fabric around your own neck this time; and when he speaks, much steadier like the Jin you have always known, he looks you directly in the eye. “Youngji told me about your guys’ conversation.”

“Huh?” you pause as soon as your embarrassing declaration of love begins reciting itself in your head, but not even the resumed work of your hands could distract you from the ever-growing shade of red. “O-oh, that… what about it?” 

“I heard what you said about me.” 

“Yeah?” you hum nonchalantly, even though the trembling of your hands and the avoidance of your eyes from his give you away. “Well, did she tell you about all the complaints I made, too? About you being a stupid dork?”

“She did,” he utters before placing a finger below your chin to avert your attention to those dazzling works you desperately avoided, “but would you still be willing to marry this stupid dork?”  

“This isn’t even a real wedding,” you feign a frown under the spotlight of his intent gaze, “why are you asking me a question like that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t have the funds to hire a real priest.” 

“You don’t need to for a fake wedding.”

“I thought you said we should be ‘ignorantly happy for one day?’” 

The bantering just never stops, does it?

“Okay, well… to answer your question,” you mutter, eyes averting to the side, “under normal circumstances…”

“Under normal circumstances…” he repeats.

“Where you aren’t engaged…”

“Where I’m not engaged…”

“And your father approved of me…”

“And my father approved of you…”

“Then yes,” you say without hesitation, eyes returning to find a newfound comfort in his relieved gaze, “yes, I would marry you.” 

“And that’s why I love you,” Jin smiles, chuckling softly. “I’ll always want to marry you.”  

And just as a nearby clock tower strikes its church bells to signal the stroke of midnight, Jin grabs the end of your necktie and pulls you in to press his lips onto yours. The body of his warmth and the acceptance of an inevitable end to your paths serve as the last page of a book never to be read again; and yet, he holds himself close, refusing to let you go. 

But when the end nears and the magic of the bells resume time once again, the two of you pull away to catch your breaths. Forehead against yours, Jin gives you one last, fleeting kiss. 

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Deja vu would be the perfect term to describe this feeling.  You can almost see yourself in the room of hundreds, stealing glances at the man from afar. It only takes one blink for you to relive the rollercoaster of jubilance and confessions and tears. In the split second of darkness, the past week flickers before you like a film reel: breaking down in the middle of the hallway right in front of Jin, staring bewilderedly at the large bouquet in the hand of a man at the office, confessing with tears that stain your face and sobs that conquer your voice, meeting the woman who had stolen your spot beside Jin, and holding him in your arms as he cries his heart out at the stroke of midnight. 

And just as quickly as the whirlwind of memories had taken you on a trek of time, your eyes flutter open to find yourself in another suffocating room of hundreds once again. 

Youngji [8:39 P.M.] Hey Y/N do you think you can visit me real quick? 

The glaring text on your phone screen glows in an otherwise dimly lit reception room. Thumb hovering over the screen, your mind goes blank. People pass by you, commotions and laughter fill every corner of the room, and you stand there frozen and affixed to the floor beside the table of food with a glass of red wine in your hands. 

“Hey, Y/N,” someone whispers into your ear and you immediately turn your phone off only to find Alex on her tiptoes, “what’s the matter?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” you respond under your breath, “it’s just that someone wants to talk to me.” 

“Well, you better hurry then,” she ushers you with a gripping hand on your left arm, “the ceremony is about to start anytime now.” 

“O-oh, okay,” you nod, allowing your footsteps to follow the momentum of her push. 

This isn’t exactly what you had planned, for the original plan involved your complete avoidance of the groom and bride, but it’s unsurprising that things never quite go your way. Nothing could quite topple you like last night’s revelation anyways. Taking a deep breath, you weave through the audience, wandering about the venue until you finally find yourself in front of a door with a “BRIDE WAITING ROOM” printed in gigantic black letters taped to it. 

Hesitantly, you knock, “hello? This is Y/N…? Youngji called for me—”

“—Y/N!” The wooden door swings wide open with a highly distressed Youngji hiding behind it. Before you can reply or even confirm the identity of the woman, her hands clutch yours and pull you into the room with a force unimaginable for a human of her size.  Practically lurching forward, a heap of air is knocked from your lungs just as the door slams closed. Coughs force their way through your throat, but Youngji wastes no time to rush to your side. “Y/N, this is an emergency! I need help!” 

“W—” you wheeze, peering up at her as you’re doubled over “—what in the world are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know,” her hands jitter as she paces back and forth, “I don’t know why I feel so… so nervous!”

“Hold on,” you frown, finally straightening your back, “that’s perfectly normal. It’s your wedding—”

“—please don’t say that word again,” she begins biting her freshly white-coated nails.

“What word? Normal? Wedding? Your—”

“—I can’t believe it’s my wedding…” she says repeatedly, hands flying to her head and disheveling her previously perfectly conditioned curls. She suddenly turns to face you, eyes wider than ever with a look that screams of an epiphany. “I-I don’t think I can go there. Y/N, I don’t think I can go out there!”

“What?!” you almost yell, flabbergasted. Recoiling from your outburst, you start much more softly this time. “Are you sure? I’m sure it’s just your nerves getting to you. You’ve been okay with it for at least a year, right?”

“Why?” her eyes widen to unprecedented diameters as she grabs your arm for support. “Is it because it’s too late? Do you think I should back out, Y/N?”

“What? No, no, no, calm down, follow me,” you shake your head, grasping her hand and guiding her to the chair in the center of the room where an entire photo shoot has been set up. Lowering yourself to a squat, you give her a squeeze as firm as the smile on your lips.  “Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s just the jitters. Everyone gets them. I’m sure Jin is freaking out in his room, too.”

“...okay,” she nods, pouting as her eyes lower to your hands that hold hers. Peering up at her from below, you can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks dolled up on this special occasion. From the extravagant poof of her princess gown to the gorgeous glow of the bride herself, you find yourself lost in a trance that burns with heart-panging jealousy. You almost miss her when she murmurs, “how are you so calm, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you raise a brow and laugh. “Why would I be nervous? I’m not the one getting married here.”  

“But… your best friend is getting married,” she shifts to get a clearer look of you but finds you with your eyes to the floor, “are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Of… of course. I’m happy for him,” you say through barely parted lips and stand to your feet before making your way to the door. “It’s not exactly traditional, but do you want me to get Jin? Maybe he can calm you down—”

“—do you know why Jin agreed to this arrangement?” 

Freezing in your tracks, you throw a glance over your shoulder to meet her distraught gaze. 

“Why are you asking me that now?”

“Because,” she blurts, clearly without thinking as words fail to follow through, “because I want your blessing! I want you to be okay with it!” 

“Blessing...?” 

“Yes,” she nods. “I can live with marrying a man I don’t love because I know I’ll come around, but I don’t think I can live knowing I’ve broken your relationship with Jin.”

Your weight shifts from your left to your right but the force of burden weighs immeasurably heavier on your very being. There’s nothing that would have prepared you for her request. Preparation, however, proves unnecessary, for your mind runs on its own and the words come to you as if rehearsal is all it's ever done. 

“I don’t think I’m in the position to grant you permission. That’s your decision and Jin’s,” you say, “and if my blessing is what you’re asking for, then I can give you it as many times as it takes to convince you. But if you’re asking for me to be okay with it, then I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you that.” 

Those are your last parting words as you slump on the wall behind you and a heavy sigh is shared between the two women on opposite sides of the door. Head low like a woman unjustly ashamed for speaking her truth, you take a deep breath with those heavy shoulders that carry the weight of a woman who had essentially cursed the joining of two hands. Nevertheless, somehow, you persist to make your way through the halls just as the ceremony begins; but as the audience settles and the light dims, something tells you the guilt that intoxicates your blood would have a longer-lasting aftermath than you had first expected. 

“Hey,” Alex leans into you, whispering, “is it just me or does Jin seem really jittery?”

“...no,” you answer, making sure to keep yourself hushed amidst a room of seated spectators. From the second bench to the front, fortunately on the opposite side of where Jin’s parents sit in the front row, you get a clear view of Jin and Youngji in between the black silhouettes of a couple heads; but anyone in the room can tell the bright studio lights and elevated platform don’t help his constantly shuffling case. “I don’t think it’s just you.”

“I see… so both the groom and bride are getting cold feet, huh?” 

“Well,” you utter, quipping, “in Jin’s case, he’d probably just say he forgot to sleep with socks on.” 

Alex turns to you with sheer confusion across her furrowed brows, “huh?” 

But before Alex could inquire further, the priest clears his throat and begins the opening ceremony. The officiality of it all, a long-dreaded image of Jin standing by another woman’s side manifesting into reality, has you subconsciously sent into a frenzy. 

“Dear Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Kim Seokjin and Heo Youngji in matrimony commended to be honorable among all…”

The clearing of his throat strikes once and hard against your chest. Each word that reverberates in the room echoes the vibrating pain in the blood pumped from a gaping wound. Your chest heaves and heaves and your lungs struggle to maintain composure, and while your breakdown may have gone unseen by the rest of the universe, you know for sure only two would catch sight of your state.

You and him. 

“...if there is any person who can show cause why they should not be joined together…”

The priest continues and the tension in the audience rises by the second of a stress-inducing prompt, but the moment Jin catches your eyes and the panic painted across it, his every attention remains on you. Guilt should’ve painted your expression now, having stolen the groom’s admiration from the rightful bride by his side, but all you can do is relish in a fleeting moment you deem the least this cruel world owed you. 

Maybe he feels the same way, because something catches in your throat like the hunch that has chills running down the nape of your neck. You don’t dare move an inch. You fear any movement would give you away, though you’re sure he already knew the second he met you halfway.

His eyes, those dazzling eyes that could single-handedly freeze any moment in time, they ask you for a permission only he could grant. 

“...let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” 

No one speaks but the thick air that engulfs every witness in the room is telling enough. Holding a shared, bated breath, everyone awaits and prays for the quick passing of this deafening silence. Your heart is pounding so hard you worry your passing out would be the one interruption to the ceremony, if not anything else. It takes everything in you to remain hidden, glued to the chair. You can hear every single movement in this room, the squeaking of a nearly retired bench, the rustling of clothes amidst a fidgeting audience, the anxious tapping of someone’s heels against the wooden floor, yet no one dares to speak now. 

The priest sighs a soft breath of relief. 

Everyone but you follows along. 

The priest clears his throat and pro—

“—I would like to speak.”

A loud gasp travels across the room. Every witness, including the priest himself, stares at the young man, wide-eyed. The knot in your throat inhibits you from following suit, but the hammer against your chest works harder than ever; because there he is, your best friend, standing boldly before the audience with a puffed chest and a tightened fist that brace for the repercussions. 

It all happens so suddenly, so swiftly. The strings that were left raveled now unraveled, the paths that were abandoned now explored, and the love of a lifetime whomst once bid you farewell now holds on with a determination that tells you they aren’t quite ready to let go, by happenstance or by conviction, everything falls into place. 

You had reprimanded yourself relentlessly for envisioning a moment like this and you truly believed this would be the worst case scenario, so why is it that only now, as your peering eyes are enamored by the sparkles in his, you find yourself smiling proudly and thinking to yourself… that’s your man. 

“Father, mother,” Jin turns to face his parents in the front row, declaring loudly and firmly, “I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.” 

“What,” Alex shrills under her breath as she clutches your hands, “what is going on, Y/N?!”

Her voice doesn’t reach you and neither do her cold, nudging hands. The ongoing commotion around the room are like white noise in your background. You can’t even spare a second of your attention to the picturesque vision before you, the man who fights not for you but for the two of you.

Jin bows, head hanging low to his parents and the audience, “I’m sorry for saying this too late.” 

Everybody watches as his mother attempts to hold her husband in place. All is in vein, however, when one look of the baffled expression on her husband’s face conveys enough to everyone of the mayhem that is soon to ensue. He rips her grip apart from his arm and storms to his feet, pointing a finger at his apologetic son.

“W—” he struggles to find his breath “—what are you saying? You said you were okay with this just last week!”

“I did,” Jin affirms with his head still hanging low, “I thought I was okay with it until this week.” 

“How—”

“—honey…” the mother murmurs.

“No, changing your mind is one thing, but changing it at the very last second is another,” his father shakes his head, yanking his hand and stumbling on his feet before his distraught son could lend a helping hand. “Did I teach you to inconvenience others like this? Do you know how much trouble you’re causing Youngji and her family?”

“I do,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

His father grunts, “don’t you see, Seokjin? ‘Sorry’ can’t fix everything—”

“—actually, Mr. Kim, it’s not just Jin,” Youngji bounces to Jin’s side then pivots to bow to her parents who sit in the row before you, “I, too, don’t want to marry anyone until I really know them.” 

Physically, the spotlight remains affixed to the stage. Mentally, it feels as though everyone’s attention is gradually creeping its way toward you. It takes everything in you and the grip of Alex’s hands not to run from the prying eyes. 

“What?” their parents gasp. “Didn’t you say you were okay with it if it were Jin?”

“I did!” she insists, suddenly retracting. “I did, until…”

“I’m sorry,” Jin lifts his head to turn to Youngji’s parents before bowing once again, “this is all my fault.”

“No, no, you wouldn’t do this... tell me, son,” his father takes a step toward the stage, beckoning for an explanation, “tell me who did this to you?” 

Jin lifts his head, brow furrowing and lips thinning as he chooses to remain silent to his father’s question. Suddenly, it’s everyone’s duty to catch the perpetrator. The audience begins craning their neck every which way to skim over the possible candidates. Your heart sends threatening waves of pain that foreshadow the inevitable chaos you’re about to be dragged into. 

You can barely move from staring at the floor in between the groom and bride but you can spot the gradual direction of his mother’s eyes making its way toward you… and when they finally spot you, a lightbulb flashing across her eyes the second you make the lethal mistake of meeting her gaze for the first time in many years, it’s as though her son’s rebellion is the only thing that makes sense in this universe. 

Only naturally, his father catches onto his partner’s maternal instincts along with the rest of the crowd as their diverged attention converges, one head turning after another, to stare you down—some with awe plastered across their jealous front, some with ghastly colors than drain their face of blood. 

“Is that… you, Y/N?” his father’s voice echoes in the room. “Seokjin, don’t tell me…”

“No, father!” Jin jumps in, holding up a defensive pair of hands as he attempts to quell the fiery in his father’s temper. Wide-eyed and panicked, he glances between you and his father. “It isn’t her fault. I swear. I”ll explain—”

“—don’t tell me you’re going through all this trouble for a childish crush from five years ago?” 

A loud shriek began the chaos the second Jin’s father exploded, lurching forward with a vexing fist. Everyone in the front rows jump to their feet to hold him back, whereas people in the back rows stand to their tiptoes to get a better view of the climactic show, which includes a once-to-be-groom insisting his father punishes him and a once-to-be-bride slapping her ex-partner in the head for his submission. 

People are hysterically laughing, crying, screaming, yelling, fighting, but you sit there, frozen and petrified, until a hand shakes your entire being to your feet. 

“Y/N, Y/N, God damn it Y/N, earth to Y/N!” Alex raises her hand, just about to give you one hard slap to the cheek when you suddenly flinch awake. She then hastily pushes you toward the door in the corner of the room whilst everyone is too distracted to notice your discreet escape. She looks you directly in the eye, “you need to run before things get too crazy. I’ll handle things here for now.” 

“But Alex, I’m at fault here—”

“—yes, I mean, maybe,” she corrects herself with the shake of her head, “but you being here doesn’t help matters. I’ll help Jin and Youngji.”

“But—”

“—now go,” she starts your momentum with an encouraging push, “go!”

Nodding, you begin your long trek of the night. You run and you run and you run. Your mind runs blank but your feet run a mind of its own. You sprint down the dimly lit streets, you pay no mind to the traffic lights of endlessly empty streets, and your hair twirls in the wind that impedes your speed down the hills. Your surroundings become a blur as your arms swing desperately, your chest heaves incessantly, your eyes sting with tears, and your lips spill anguished sounds of incoherency until somehow, under the sway of the town’s cold spring air and your flux of emotions, you find yourself in a familiar street of your greatest dreams. 

Depleted of gas, your feet stumble into a trot that has your knee nearly buckling, which then turns into a jog that then drifts into an untroubled walk in which your lungs try to catch up and your mind is scrambling at a hundred miles per hour but you, yourself, have gone elsewhere. 

The luminescence of the full moon is blinding but all the more soothing as you navigate your way through this street you’ve walked one too many times before. For some reason, perhaps out of habit or a hope for something waiting at the end of the tunnel, you begin to count each passing light post. Seven fluorescent lights, you count, seven lights resembling the rays of moonlight until you finally reach your old acquaintance of many years at the corner of the street. 

Leaning your head back to stare at the familiar white text on a green sign post, you smile at the homely sight. 

CHERRY BLOSSOM AVE

A comforting breeze blows by you, the branches above you rustle in the wind, and the cherry petals from your old pal flutter into the air to envelop you in a solace you had long sought but failed to obtain. It’s like the calm after a storm. Not quite disconnected from the string that loops around your fourth finger to those of another man’s—no, you couldn’t unravel it after all this heartache—but at least away from the prying eyes that could tear you apart and away from the people who whispered gossip of matters they had none in. 

Hours seem to pass in the clouds that retire to reveal patches of new twinkling ornaments. You would have believed it if someone were to tell you all control of time lies within the blink of your eyes. The silence was calming initially; but the longer you stand here and the more the numbness begins to fade, the more you become aware of your lonesome circumstances. 

The silence is deafening. It knows your greatest fears and your innermost thoughts. You can’t handle it. You can’t bear the thought of being left alone to that voice in your head. 

You have to go. 

Where? 

You don’t know. You just know you have to go somewhere. You can envision all the places you can run to but all the roads lead you to one destination. Yes, anywhere would be fine, anywhere that leads you to him. 

“This marks the second time you’ve ever been so enraptured by something other than me.” 

Whirling around, seconds seem to become milliseconds and gravity becomes a law unbeknownst to earth, for you can’t believe the sight your eyes lay upon. There he is, standing by the tree just a few meters away with a loosened necktie and disheveled hair, almost as if a pitiful albeit wondrous mirage crafted by your shoddy prayers to the moon above. 

“Hey dummy,” he simply utters, taking a step or two toward you before poking your forehead, “what? Why’re you staring at me like I’m a ghost?” 

“What?” you manage to say under your breath. “I’m not staring…”

“I was just joking, you know?” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t be jealous over a street post. Psh, I’m not that dumb—”

“—why…” you frown when he quirks a brow, “why are you here? How are you here?”

“Oh no, she’s gone crazy,” Jin laughs at the stupefied look you give him. “At least an hour or two has passed since you left. Somehow, I managed to sit my father down and explain myself.” 

“And… what did he say?” your hands begin fidgeting. “He must hate me, doesn’t he…”

“I wouldn’t say ‘hate,’ per se… he’s perfectly okay with you. In fact, he likes you, really. He’s just mad at how things happened. After he calmed down, though, he understood where I was coming from.” 

Cautiously, you peek at those eyes that peer down at yours, “and your mother…?”

“She said she saw it coming from a mile away. Apparently she saw us arguing at the engagement party and knew right away,” Jin purses his lips. “Psh, yeah, as if I’m that easy to read.” 

Allowing yourself the smallest of laughs, you still can’t seem to rid yourself of that panging guilt. “And… what about Youngji?” 

Jin stares intently at your expression before cracking a smile and chuckling, ruffling your hair, “don’t go crying on me now, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.” 

“But I just,” your voice cracks, “I just hate myself for ruining everything for everyone—”

“—hey,” he cups his fingers underneath your chin to lift your gaze to his, “you did not ruin anything for anyone. I did this. I chose to fight for us.” 

Hesitantly, you nod and he smiles in response. 

“Youngji’s still explaining to her family right now. She told me to find you and Alex told me you would probably here.” 

Frowning, you mutter to yourself, “how did she know…?” 

“Well,” Jin drops his hand from your chin to raise them in the air, “we did promise to swear our wedding vows here, didn’t we?” 

“So what?” you deadpan. “You’re gonna marry me now after all this mess?” 

“I know you really want to marry me as soon as possible, but I think I’m gonna have to take a break from weddings for now.” 

Rolling your eyes, you mumble, “ditto.”

“But hey, I may have already broken the third promise,” one corner of his lips curve into an apologetic smile before he shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t marry you in the future! Plus, I may or may not have promised my father I would marry you in the near future to make up for it, so...” 

Scoffing, you gawk, “and who said I would marry you?” 

“Who wouldn’t marry me?!” 

The two of you stare at each other in silence, but the mirrored grin that stretches across your lips are undeniable. Soon enough, a loud fit of giggles and cackles fill the air. It happens all too quickly. The banters come to you like second nature, the conversation flows like a river through time, and somehow you find yourself lying beside him on the blazer he had laid out on the grassy hill and star-gazing for hours on end. 

It’s almost like you’ve seen this all before, just five years aged. 

“So,” Jin speaks, “how’s your birthday been?” 

“Oh, shut the hell up.” 

“What?” he cackles, getting up to lean on his arm whilst hovering you. “You know it’s not too late to tell me what you want for your birthday!” 

“I already told you,” you narrow your eyes at him, “I wasn’t joking when I said what I said.” 

Jin smiles, “in that case…”

He leans in to diminish the distance between his lips and yours. A lulling zephyr blows gently on the cherry petals as you close your eyes and you can picture the way they gracefully descend upon the two lovers below. Having witnessed the unforeseeable promises from start to finish, it’s almost as though an old accomplice was applauding a long-awaited finale. 

And when he finally pulls away, eyelids fluttering open just as yours do, he speaks, “happy birthday.” 

“What was that for?” you giggle. 

Jin’s mouth falls agape, “I’m giving you what you wanted for your birthday!”

“Well,” you purse your lips, “where’s my ring to confirm it then?”

“After all this time, do you really need a ring at this point to confirm my love for you?” Jin rolls his eyes. “You know I’ll always want to be by your side, married or not.” 

A fit of laughs escape you as your hand reaches up to squeeze his cheeks, “I know, I know. I’m just joking.”

“Well, good, cause I’m bankrupt at the moment,” Jin sighs, plopping back onto the grass beside you. A momentary silence passes before he turns his head to look at you, “just to make sure, you said you wanted love, right?” 

Turning to meet those sparkles in his gaze, you answer, “yeah?”

“You said you wanted to feel love, right?” 

Your grin grows wider by the second, “yeah?” 

“Well,” he says, “do you feel it?” 

“I do,” you answer. “What about you? Do you feel it?”

The vows hold a truth much closer to his heart this time around, and he smiles as he swears...

“I do, too.” 

[celestialrry]

bunny

6.3k

summary: Harry's shy and you need a tutor.

warnings: like none, cursing?, severe fluff

You rushed into class, and scrambled over to sit in your chair, huffing as the clock struck 9:00 a.m. the moment you touched the seat. Why you signed up for a morning class you knew you would never want to wake up for is beyond you. Why the class you were taking was about English literature, a genre you had only read less than 3 books in was also beyond you. Being undecided in your major didn’t have many perks, you had come to find.

“Alright class, first things first, you’ll be having a test in this class next week about what we studied this past month.”

As your professor droned on, your heartbeat started to pick up. A month into your second year of university and you already had a test? This was absolute torture. You were psyching yourself out at this point, almost positive you would fail, until you zoned back into class to hear a deep voice speaking.

The boy with the curls almost reaching his shoulders in the back of the class, Harry, you thought. He was terrifying and intimidating, but he raised his hand almost every other question and got it right. Always. He was the answer to all of your problems. The one who always wore those tattered brown Chelsea boots and long coats. You had even seen a peek of tattoos on his hand once.

The rest of class was spent thinking of ways to ask him to tutor you. So far, you would suggest to pay him for his time, do it only when he’s available (you would switch your schedule around for him, you were already going to ask a lot of him), and just try to be really nice. You always tried not to judge on looks, but Harry seemed quite scary, and you were afraid he’d turn you down immediately.

Soon class was dismissed and you grabbed your trusty bag (it had survived multiple sleepovers at Niall’s and that boy could destroy anything by just touching it) and slung it over your shoulder, looking to see Harry walking out of the classroom. You hurried over to him out of the doors and caught up to him. “Hi, um, Harry?” You asked, and he stopped in his tracks.

He looked back at you and his eyes widened. He had to look back down for a moment so you couldn’t see him flush out of surprise. He looked back up at you and smiled softly. “Hello.” Harry mumbled, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. No one really ever spoke to Harry all that much. People just never approached him and he had no idea why (his friends had tried to clue him in that he did seem a bit intimidating with his brows furrowed almost all the time, his body littered with tattoos, and the fact that he’s quite a buff guy, but you couldn’t really tell from his oversized sweaters that he seems to wear every single day, but that’s besides the point) and it confused him a bit. It also made him a bit shy around anyone he didn’t already know, because he didn't want to come off too strong at first and scare anyone away.

You smiled at him and introduced yourself before you continued to ask him what you had been dreading out of pure nerves. “Um, I know this is weird, but we’re in the same English lit class and I notice you know like, all the answers to what Mr. Reeves asks, n’I just really wanna pass this test so I was maybe wondering if you could tutor me or something? I would pay you of course-”

“You don’t-you don’t have to pay me.” He interrupted you from rambling on for too long because you tended to do that a lot, and Harry had no idea but he had just saved himself about ten minutes of time. If you were his chance at a new friend, he wouldn’t want it to start off on money, because helping a friend wouldn't be a job. “Oh!” Your mouth formed an “o” shape and your eyebrows raised at him. “Are you sure? I mean that's fucking awesome if you really don’t want money, but I would just feel so bad taking up your time without giving you anything in return.”

You prayed that he would say that you really didn’t need to pay him anything. If he meant it, it means this boy was a godsend and you would be happy spending time with this bloke if he is really that sweet all the time. You wouldn’t expect it just because he rarely ever speaks to other people. The most words you had ever heard him speak was when he was answering a question from Mr. Reeves-

“S’fine, really. If I tutor you, um, it's basically like studying m’self so...” He trailed off scratching the back of his neck, and bringing you back to Earth. You broke out into a grin and bounced a bit on your toes, because he was going to help you pass the final and you didn’t have to pay him. “Perfect! Wow, Harry, you’re an angel. Thank you so much,” You complimented him as you grabbed your phone from your back pocket and as your eyes darted away from his face for a few moments, he attempted to bite back his smile, because you were talking to him, and calling him an angel.

You pulled your pink-case covered cell and unlocked it, handing it to Harry and saying, “Here, put your contact in so I can text you about meeting up, s’that cool?” To which he nodded and took your phone gently and began typing his name and number in, and biting back his tongue when he was about to tell you he had the same phone case as you, because you probably wouldn’t care (you actually would care a very great deal, but Harry had been so used to being ignored he figured he wouldn’t muck up his one chance at a new friend). he handed your phone back to you and you just shoved it back in your pocket, the smile never leaving your face.

“Thanks again Harry, it really means a lot. I’ll text you later, yeah?” You said, slowly beginning to walk to your next class. He just offered you a small smile before continuing the way he was before you had asked him to tutor you. Why he didn’t want money was still itching at the back of your brain, mostly because when you told your best friend, Niall, about it later that night he had said “What kinda college student turns down money?” before going off into a rant about how he wished he actually knew what he was learning so he could tutor someone and get some extra cash. You reminded him he already had a job, but it seemed tutoring was “so much easier than dealing with kids whose parents didn’t give a rats-ass if they yell in the restaurant.”

｡:°ஐ

You and Harry had arranged to meet on Wednesday, because you only had one morning class as did he, and would meet in the library at 12 p.m. You don’t think you had ever been so anxious walking into a library before, but here you were, opening the double doors and swiping your student I.D. (which had a horrid picture on it, they really never tell you when they take the photo) before your eyes scanned the front part of the library you could see. It was safe to say you weren’t in the library very often, if seeing your frazzled face as you zig-zagged through the rows of bookshelves was enough to go by.

You made your way to the back, where you assumed the tables for studying and reading would be, and as you turned the corner of one of the oddly tall bookshelves, you thanked your instincts for the first time, and scanned the area until you found a certain flop of messy brown curls hunched over at a table.

“Hi Harry,” You chittered, flopping down in the seat across from him and immediately pulling out your notes and the book you had been reading for class, Pride and Prejudice. “How are you?”

For the first time, you noticed he wore glasses, when he looked up at you and pushed the clear tan frames up the bridge of his nose, a bit startled by your arrival. “M’good, you?” He asked, no emotion or tone behind his voice really. It sounded like he just wanted you to stop talking almost, but you settled on the fact that it was your nerves telling you he hated you.

“’Bout as good as I can be with teachers up my ass all week.” You said, and a small smile struck his face. You wondered what it would be like to make him laugh. Shaking your head from your thoughts, you cleared your throat and looked at your notes before back up at him. “Alright, so m’a bit confused on why Charlotte marries Collins? I mean, ignoring the fact that they’re all related, I’ve re-read it so many times but the old English they use is so confusing.”

After your question, Harry delves into the answer, not going on an extraordinarily long tangent, but a decently long one, explaining the relationship between them, and why they married when he wanted Elizabeth first, and so on. What was even better was that he explained it all so easily you understood it all (and his voice was sweeter than honey), you just kept wanting to ask more questions, so you did.

Harry was talkative when you kept asking him questions, and it seemed like he was enjoying himself, but whenever the conversation swerved into personal life, Harry shut off and became more quiet. It wasn’t like you were asking him about his family drama, the conversation had smoothly sailed into something about high school.

“I wish I read this book in high school when they gave us the chance.” You sighed, flipping through the pages to where you had put a sticky note to write down your confusion. You truly regretted not being one of those reading types, but you preferred to hear things more (like Harry’s voice), and listening to music became your ‘hobby’ instead.

“Yeah, reading it earlier makes it pretty easy now.” He shrugged, going through his own notes. “I just wasn’t much of a reader, did you read a lot in high school?” It's an innocent enough question, and after spending about 2 hours with Harry, you already knew you would want to get to know him more, but it seemed he didn’t feel the same. “A bit.” He said, tensing up. While you were mildly confused by his body language, Harry just didn’t want to talk about highschool. He read a lot, and was so in his own world he found it hard to really have many friends. He had a few loyal ones, but books would always be there, as cheesy as that was. High school wasn’t fun for anyone, he was sure of it.

“You seem like you’d read a lot, you just give off that vibe, y’know?” You said, looking at him. He lifted his gaze from his notes and you truly could not tell what he was thinking. He gave a small “hmph” in response to your question that wasn’t really a question and looked back down at his notes, gathering them all quite fast. “I think we’re good for the day, just text me if you want anymore help.” He mumbled, slinging his bag over his shoulder and rushing out of the library. You sat there with your mouth slightly open in shock at the way he left so abruptly. After a few moments you packed up your own things and practically ran after him, bursting through the double doors and trying to find him, to-you actually didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even know what happened. That’s why you found yourself on your couch with Niall as he ate all your snack food, deep in a long-winded advice session from him.

“He just ran out Niall, I don’t even know what happened, like did I say something?” You asked, picking your nails in distress, your eyes following the chip that disappeared in his mouth seconds later. “What’s this bloke’s name, again?” He asked, after chewing (Niall could be vulgar, but he wasn’t an animal). “Um, Harry. Longish brown curls, pretty green eyes, y’know? I-I don’t even know his last name.”

The blonde’s icy blue eyes widened in recognition after a moment of thinking, and he slapped your bicep gently. “Harry Styles! I’ve heard o’him. Apparently he has like two friends and never speaks, s’not hard to believe you have a thing for him, bug.” Your brow raised incredulously, and you were quick to defend yourself, and Harry. “I do not have a thing for him, and just because he doesn’t have many friends doesn’t mean he’s a-wait what do you mean it's not hard to believe?”

Niall rolled his eyes and sat up a bit more, turning to actually face you. “You like the quiet types, s’why we aren’t dating, obviously, n’I never said he was a dud, love, just tellin’ you what I heard.” You just nodded, deciding to not worry about it so much. “There’s many reasons we aren’t dating Ni.” You gave him a compassionate smile and pat his knee. The two of you then burst out into laughter and your worries about Harry faded away.

Until the next morning that is.

You had been going over the study guide Mr. Reeves had emailed everyone that morning and realized you weren’t sure about quite a few of the things you were supposed to know. Sighing, you opened your phone and clicked on Harry’s contact typing out a text.

Hey Harry! Wondering if you could meet up sometime again this weekend just to go over the study guide?

You hit send and prayed that he wouldn’t just ignore it, especially after running out last time. After looking back at the email, you heard your notification bell go off just a few minutes later.

I can do Friday at 8pm, and Sunday around 3.

A smile of relief graced your face at his quick response, no matter how short his texts were, he was still willing to help you, and you were extremely grateful. After texting him back and agreeing to meet back at the library, you went back to working on another assignment, happy that you were able to get more studying in, not about the fact that you got to see the quiet and unusually attractive Harry Styles again. That was not the reason.

｡:°ஐ

Eventually it was Friday night. Your friday nights usually consisted of Niall dragging you somewhere you did not want to be, like a frat party (he always made sure you got home safe though), or you sitting at home, watching a movie and binging on cookies that you had baked just 30 minutes prior. Tonight was different however, and you were attempting to open the doors of the library, because it was locked, but you were positive the library wasn’t closed.

A soft voice said your name, and you turned around to see Harry standing a few feet behind you, his hands in his pockets and his bag on his shoulder. “Harry,” you exhaled in relief. “I was about to text you, but it’s locked and I know for a fact it shouldn’t be closed because the hours say 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. every weekday.” You stated matter of factly, pointing to the hours painted on the door. He walked a bit closer to the door and adjusted his glasses a bit, pursing his pink lips as he read the hours. “You’re right.” he said simply, his sage eyes darting to the handle. You wordlessly stepped back and he went to the handle, pulling the door a bit, and pushing it. It moved a bit for him, but it was obvious it was locked.

Your mind raced for solutions, the only ones you were able to find was going to your flat, or wherever he lived, and you were almost positive he wouldn't want you in his house. You heard a little sigh leave his lips as he let go of the handle, and stuck his hands back in his pockets, rolling on the balls of his feet adorned with black boots today. “We could go to my place? If you’re comfortable with that of course, I won’t force you, but it’s like the only place I can think of and my roommate won’t be home tonight to distract us, something about staying the weekend at her boyfriends, but-”

“Sure.”

Your eyes fell back onto his face at his words and you gave a small smile, happy that he had agreed. “Alright, c’mon then.” You said, walking towards the direction of your flat. Only a few moments after you began taking steps he stopped you with his voice. “Wait, you walked here?” He asked, his face twisted up with something you couldn’t tell. “Yeah, m’only fifteen minutes away.” You shrugged. “It’s pitch black-um, come with me, I drove here and you can just direct me to yours.”

You just agreed and followed him to his car, which was an awfully nice black one, you weren’t sure of the brand, but as you got in, you could tell he took really good care of it (not that that was attractive to you or anything). Your words during the drive consisted of you telling him the four turns to take before directing him the best place to park in your lot. You ignored his gaze on you as you led him up the two flights of stairs to your hall, because “The elevator has been down for ages, and I’ve sent about four letters to the landlord, but all I’ve gotten in return is just unnecessary exercise for two months.”

He chuckled a bit at that and you swore your heart grew two sizes as you led him down the hall to your door. You unlocked it, and let him in, quickly walking in front to scan and make sure it wasn’t messy. You were never one to leave the house while it was dirty, but Niall had come over earlier to convince you to come to a party, and you were scared you hadn’t picked up his mess. He truly was like your child in a sense. Taking a sigh of relief at your clean flat, you turned around to see Harry closing your door and you brushed against him to lock it, you never kept your door unlocked at night.

You led him to the living room and dropped your bag on the floor next to the couch, and he did the same, pulling out your books and notes, as well as your laptop. Harry followed your actions and you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable in your flat, or at least that’s what it seemed like. “Do y’want some water or anything? I’m not sure what other drinks I have because I’m pretty sure Niall drank everything in here, and ate it probably as well.”

He looked up at your words and hesitated, bringing his bottom lip between his fingers. “Erm, I’ll have a water, please.” Now was not the time to ask about Niall or who he was to you, he told himself, because it didn’t matter. You nodded and stood up, hurrying over to your kitchen and grabbing two glasses of water for the both of you before handing one to Harry and sitting down on the couch again.

It was a bit weird at first, but soon enough the two of you slid into an easy conversation about the study guide, it was mostly you asking and Harry answering, but occasionally he would ask you something (that you were sure he already knew), and you would answer. It was a good back and forth, and you found yourself thinking about how it would be nice to talk to Harry like this about himself. You wanted to know everything, his favorite color down to the weird little quirks he has (you’ve already picked up on one, like when he itches the bottom of his nose with a curled index finger and slides it to the button of his nose before scrunching it).

“We’ve been studying for about two hours,” You noticed, looking at the time on your computer screen reading 10:03 PM. “I’ve just about filled my brain with enough information about fictional characters for today.”

You looked over at Harry to see him grinning a bit at your joke, and for the first time you noticed he had dimples. You were positive there was nothing wrong with him, other than the fact that he didn’t seem to want to be your friend (it wasn’t his fault, you could be a bit too much for people sometimes). “Okay, I should probably get back home to Luna anyways.” He said, his offhand comment filling your brain. Luna? You prayed you haven’t been taking his time away from a girlfriend, and before your brain could catch up your mouth was already moving. “Oh, who’s Luna?”

Harry looked at you like he forgot he mentioned her and his eyes widened a bit. “Oh, um, she’s m’kitten.” A wave of relief rushed over you, as well as another reason to want to get to know him more. A man so intimidating people didn’t approach him, had a kitten? Harry was flushing out of embarrassment of telling you this little fact, and looking down as he put his things in his bag to avoid eye contact with you, you did not care about his kitten, and you were indirectly telling him to leave, he didn't think he ever hated speaking more.

“That’s such a cute name!”You exclaimed. “Do you have any photos of her? It’s okay if you don’t want to show but I love cats, always wanted t’get my own.”

Nevermind.

30 minutes later, and he was sitting next to you awfully close on the couch, showing you his photo album of Luna. Some of the photos had Harry in them, one in particular, a mirror picture, where he was wearing sweats and had chosen to go without a shirt, holding Luna in one hand by his side. He swiped off of that one with lighting speed, and although you were telling yourself he obviously was embarrassed by you seeing his bare torso, which he shouldn’t be because wow, you couldn’t help your curiosity. “How many tattoos do y’have?”

He moved his head to face you, and only then did he realize how close the two of you were sitting. “Uh, I don’t know, fifty-something? I lost count a while ago.” Your eyes lit up at his words and a grin spread across your face. “Wow, that's so cool. Did it hurt a lot? I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo but I have no idea what, and where. I thought a small little butterfly on my ribs or something would be cute for a good year, but I don’t have much connection to butterflies really, and I feel like if I get something tattooed on your body for forever I would want something that really sticks with me.”

He couldn’t help it.

As you watched Harry while you were rambling on about tattoos you could see him smile. Truly smile, one where his teeth showed and everything. You tried not to get too giddy about it, but it was just so beautiful. “It started hurting less the more I got, and tattoos don’t have t’be something y’really connect with, I have a bunch jus’ because I thought they looked cool and had a decent meaning,” He said, and you were positive that’s the most he’s ever spoken to you. “I actually have a butterfly on m’tummy.”

“What other one’s do you have?” You asked, attempting to get him to talk as much as he could.

It worked, because soon the 30 minutes became an hour, and the hour became two, and he was in your flat at midnight. It seemed the two of you had no idea how much time had passed, because when you checked your phone it said it was five past midnight, and you reluctantly told Harry.

“Shit!” He muttered, and that was the first time you’ve heard him curse before. He looked at you, concern taking over his features. “M’so sorry for staying so long, I didn’t want to impose, I-”

“Harry, it’s okay, I promise. If I didn’t want you here, I would've told you to leave.” You said, and that seemed to calm him down a bit. “I’ll walk you down.”

You slipped on your coat and grabbed your keys, while Harry grabbed his tote and the two of you made your way down the stairs, this time a comfortable silence overtaking the stairwell. You reached his car and smiled at him as he unlocked it. “Thank you Harry, for everything, m’sure after Sunday I’ll be aces at analyzing characters.”

He smiled at you and fiddled with his sleeve before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you. You were surprised to say the least, but your arms found their way around him as well and you reveled in his warmth. He stepped back after a moment and let his hands slide down your arms before bringing them back to his sides. “M’sorry, I should’ve-I just-you’re so nice n’I just-thank you.”

You couldn’t help but watch him try to stay afloat as he struggled to explain the hug. He really felt like he did though, because you were just so sweet, possibly the sweetest person he’s ever met, and you wanted to know about him, and his tattoos, and his kitten, and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to be with anyone for a hours on end, but he’s already decided that he’d want to be trapped in a room with you for days.

“No need to thank me, get home safe okay?” You smiled at him, reaching out and squeezing his arm and holy shit he’s fit. He looked down at your hand for a moment before smiling big and nodding, parting with a “G’night, I’ll see you Sunday.” before hopping into his car and insisting you walk up first. Rolling your eyes you smirked a bit and started walking up your stairs, turning around and waving at him before he sped off. That was quite possibly the best Friday night you’ve ever had.

｡:°ஐ

Harry was reeling, in the best way possible, but still reeling. After you got together to study on Sunday (and after you both aced the test, which you had given him the largest hug and a kiss on the cheek for), the two of you had hung out almost everyday after.

You met Luna during that following week, and he was expecting her to stay in his bedroom, because Luna didn’t really like new guests all that much, but she had immediately scurried up to you and walked in figure-eights around your feet. Your giggle of excitement was the best thing Harry had ever heard, and he had to take a moment not to squeal out of adoration.

He had opened up to you about, well, a lot. Told you how people just didn’t approach him, which was why he was so off-put when you did, and that he just didn’t want to scare anyone away. You shook your head and sat closer to him on the couch, lifting your hands to pinch his cheeks and pout as you said that he was “the sweetest person” you knew and you had “no idea how anyone could be scared of such a softie.” It was safe to say his face was flushed the entire conversation.

You had also commented on his sweater collection once, and everytime you would shiver, he’d pull off his own sweater and give it to you to wear, even in the courtyard when the weather was reaching 30 degrees. You had refused due to the fact that he would be cold, and eventually he just gave you a sweater you had expressed your liking for. He had handed it to you and you frowned in confusion and said, “Did you bring that just for me?”, because he was already wearing his own, and he had nodded and once you put it on he mumbled, “Keep it.” You did.

It got to the point where the two of you had spent so much time together you introduced him to Niall, to which Niall had commented, “So this is the Harry bloke you’ve been talking about all the time. Nice to meet ya, mate. So, how did you grow your hair out so long?” You had hit his shoulder for embarrassing you, but it seemed Harry didn’t even skip a beat when he started talking about how he had decided to grow his hair out. It was a story you’d heard before, but with Harry speaking, you would listen to the same words over and over again.

When you each went home for winter break, Harry had hugged you tightly and kissed your cheek, telling you that it was only 2 weeks, and the both of you would be back before you knew it. When the two of you weren’t texting, you were calling each other, and he was right, because you had both gotten back yesterday, a day full of hugs of goodbye’s from families, and full of cheek and forehead kisses, along with hugs and cuddles from Harry. You teased him about the gift, a book you had told him was the only one you wanted to read, he mailed you, and he teased you about his gift, a sweater with  a hand-stitched (by you) small little moon where the left breast was, for Luna, and posters of his favorite artists, because he didn’t have anything on his walls.

Today was a day of “movies and cookies, it rhymes” as Harry had put it, and you had just knocked on his door, adorned with the sweater he gave you and some sweats. He opened the door almost immediately, a large smile on his face as he brought you in and gave you a large hug, to which you returned. “Missed you.” He mumbled into your shoulder. “I saw you yesterday, dimples.” You said, squeezing him before letting go and poking the indent in his cheek that just got deeper. “I told you I hate that nickname, bunny.” He smirked. “Oh, shove off.” You smiled, making your way to his living room where Luna was curled up on the couch on the right side, close enough to the end that no one could sit there, but close enough to the middle that practically half of his couch was taken.

“Don’t move her,” He said, walking up beside you. “She’s been crazy all day and she's finally relaxing, little devil.” You just shrugged and looked at the cookies he had already set out. “As long as I get these, I don’t mind where she is.”

The two of you settled next to each other on the couch as he chose an old horror movie that you begged not to watch but according to Harry, “S’not even scary, pet. Nothing is realistic, swear.” You just grumbled in defeat as he started to play it and just stuffed cookies into your mouth as you fell against the back of the couch.

Half an hour later, and your head was tucked in Harry’s chest, while your legs fell over his own. His hand was splayed across your back, rubbing up and down gently and mumbled “It’s okay”’s and “I’ve got you”’s while you peeked out to see the giant ant’s taking over. He really couldn’t believe it, you of all people were in his arms at night. He wished it could be every night, and when he heard your breathing slow down he suddenly took it back.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

You hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but just the other day were you complaining about not getting enough sleep because of your “stupid Philosophy professor”, and there was no way in hell Harry was going to wake you up. He hesitated for a moment, before turning off the T.V. because in the time he was deciding on what to do the movie had long stopped playing, and wrapped his other arm under your knees, gently picking you up and taking you to his bed.

He laid you down and tucked you under the covers, grabbing a pillow for himself before making his way to the couch for the night. He made sure to set an alarm to wake up before you did, and make you breakfast.

When you opened your eyes, the last thing you were expected to be met with was a white ceiling with a sleek silver fan nailed in. You sat up groggily, looking around the room to recognize it as Harry’s room. You had only been in here a few times, mostly to scavenge his closet, but you knew his room when you saw it. You swung your legs out of bed, and slowly made your way to the living room, where you were met with a sleeping Harry, spread out on the couch in his sweats, without a shirt. You tried not to linger your gaze on all his tattoos and abs as you walked by him to check the time on your phone. Almost 9 a.m., and by the vibrating phone next to yours, with the same case, you could tell he meant to set an alarm but forgot to turn his ringer on.

He had an alarm set for something, and he never told you what he was doing this morning, so you decided you would wake him up, just in case. You grabbed his shoulder gently, and tried not to think about how warm he was, shaking him gently and calling his name. “Harry…” You said in a sing-songy voice a few times. He pouted in his sleep and grunted a bit, before scrunching his eyes open. He practically jumped back when he saw you and his head fell back against the arm of the couch. Of course he wouldn’t wake up before you. “Morning.” You grinned. “G’morning. M’sorry if you were confused when y’woke up. I just brought y’to my bed cause you fell asleep, n’I was gonna wake up before you but obviously that didn’t work out.”

You just shook your head and smiled, trying not to think about his morning voice. There were a lot of things you had to try not to think about with Harry. “No worries, wanna go grab breakfast at the diner down the street? Heard they have killer hashbrowns.”

And all thanks to you, Harry wonders what he had to worry about in the first place.

After breakfast, you went back to your place, Harry in your living room while you got dressed for the day, changing your sweats to jeans and slipping back out of your room. “Alright, what’s the plan?” You asked, tugging the sleeves of his sweater down to make paws. It wasn’t like Harry hadn’t seen you with his sweater on, but it seemed to make him more flustered everytime you did wear it. He shrugged and looked you up and down quickly. “I like your sweater, where’d y’get it?” He joked, in an attempt to mask his blush.

“From this really cute guy, he just gave it to me one day.” You shrugged, and watched as he bit his bottom lip in an attempt not to smile too much. “Really cute?” He asked as you stepped closer to him. “Mhm, his name is Harry.”

“Please stop.” He said, and you stepped back, confused by his sudden change in emotion. “I’m just joking, Harry.” You said, attempting to save the moment. His bottom lip trembled and he sat down on your couch, his head falling in his hands. “I know, n’I don’t want you t’be.” He mumbled as you sat next to him. He pulled his head out of his hands and looked at you, his heart beating faster than it ever has.

“I really like you, bunny. And I don’t wanna ruin our friendship because you’re the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time, but I cant- I can’t listen to you joke about how you think I’m cute if y’don’t feel the same.”

You swear your heart bursted at his confession. A smile overtook your face and you moved so you were right next to him. You placed your hands on the sides on his face and kissed his nose. “You think I don’t feel the same? For someone so smart, m’surprised you haven’t realized it before,” you said softly, as he looked at you in wonder and shock. “I really like you too.” You leaned in and placed your lips on his, about to pull back when he didn’t respond. He then began to kiss you back and his hands found a home on your hips. When the two of you pulled away, he smiled like a fool and pecked your lips once more.

There was never anything to worry about with you, he was sure of it.

[forestwater87]

Okay, for all of you who don't feel like watching Miles RP as David

Here are some of my favorite quotes. Context may be added if I feel like it. Reactions are my goblin brain screaming. All of these came from a discord so if they don't make sense . . . see goblin brain comment.

(That link should start directly at the point where he becomes David; if it doesn't, skip to 1:40:33)

In roughly chronological order:

David: "Teachers are sort of like camp counselors during the rest of the year."

The thing is David is absolutely up his own ass enough to think this.

David: "Trail mix is expensive!"

^ said to show he understands why not everyone can donate to the charity for teachers. Very adorable, am crying.

David's "ooooh" seeing one dude was extremely non-heterosexual. Fucking bicon. Him losing his mind that one of the arenas is called "Survey camp"

David: "A person's hitting me -- I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry this is just pretend!"

This is just canonically how David plays video games. Either this or he's unwilling to commit violence at all, but I'll defer to Miles.

David: "That's very goat of you!"

Spencer: "Is David popular amongst his campers?"

David: "I like to think so! There's only 3 staff members, so I'm definitely in everyone's top 3."

"That also means you're in the bottom 3."

David: "Well, I choose not to think of it that way."

(I have to keep adding reacts so you can tell when one quote ends and another begins. Judge not lest ye be judged)

I think the other person in the stream is named Spencer. Friend of Miles. I know literally nothing else about him and am not even confident on those facts.

Every time he says something so non-David in his David voice I die: "I have a lot of grenades!"

David: "Oh my goodness, would you look at this beautiful scenery! Can we hike that mountain?"

This is so goddamn cute. I am dying. Miles looked at his fans and said "they will eat tonight" and I am so relieved.

David: "Not to be a couple of Greedy Garys, but I say we get this [care package] and then I'll drop another one!"

The fact that Miles is grinning like a lunatic the entire time is very good. (Also if this is formatted badly then I'm sorry but not all that sorry. I'm doing my best and David would be proud of me.)

David: "Didja getim? Didja getim? didja getim? How 'bout now?"

Spencer: "I didn't get 'em."

David: "Well, you tried your best and that's all that matters."

He calls healing "a little health kiss." I'm not sure why but it's very important to me.

David: [while jumping to murder someone] "Hi! Scuse me!"

(i just need something to separate the quotes okay)

David: "Well you know what gang, we did our best. You don't always win the 3-legged race. You did a wonderful job!"

Then there's a bit where they talk about Spencer's time at summer camp:

David: "ooooh hand-holding's pretty serious!"

David is too pure.

David: [dreamily] "Did you fall in love, Spencer? A summer love?" [puts hands up to his face]

Then there's the fact that David/Miles gets to pick where they play each round, and he keeps insisting on going to the one called "Survey Camp" every single time because it has the word "camp" in it.

David: "Now, I don't like to disagree, but . . . I was thinking we could go . . . to Survey Camp!"

Spencer reminds him that technically since David's the one with the power to choose, his opinion is the only one that matters:

David: "Everyone's opinion matters. And my opinion is we're going to camp."

David just steamrolling over Spencer's interests is very good. There are these little selfish nuggets sprinkled in among the wholesomeness that really capture the full David experience.

David: "Well, he's climbing up . . . he's coming my direction . . . oh, he looks scary . . ."

Spencer: "Is he coming towards me?"

David: "Oooh, I don't know. I'm dead!"

The positivity is relentless. I think Miles said on twitter afterwards that this whole thing was exhausting and I can see why. Being David is no picnic . . .

David: "I have a question: do we have to shoot each other in this game?"

And then a few seconds later:

David: "I'm just wondering if maybe there's a way we can, you know, help others. Talk through our issues."

And a few seconds after that:

David: "I was asking if they wanted to be friends in the game!"

I believe that moved killed him, too. Precious.

Also we're interrupting the real Miles!David content to share something my friend suggested to me while I was watching this and giving her quotes; she said that maybe David just calls everything camp to make life more fun, and then sent me this imaginary exchange that actually killed me all the way to death:

David: Gwen Santos would you go to marriage camp with me

Gwen: I'm going to have to change this story when I tell everyone

It made me laugh quite a bit.

Anyway, back to the video!

Spencer: "How do you sign up for [Camp Campbell]?"

David: "Well, um, you can fax, uh, an application to CameronCCampbell@hotmail.realwebsite.noreallyrealwebsite.com. And . . . you can know that myself and Gwen and Quartermaster and sometimes Mr. Campbell will do our best to make sure they get what they need! Which more than anything is love and support. And friendship."

Spencer: "How many dollars does this camp cost?"

David: "You know . . . it is, um . . ."

And then the conversation switches subjects and David breathes a sigh of relief.

Very shortly after this he changed his character from a woman (she was wearing a yellow shirt, which he liked because the campers wear yellow shirts) to "a Forward Scout with a positive attitude!"

"I like his style."

Spencer: "Does everybody abuse David verbally?"

David: "You know, sometimes people have harsh words. Mostly Max, and Neil, and Gwen, and Quartermaster, and Nurf."

Spencer: "Did you just list almost everyone?"

David: "Mmm . . . I'd say maybe a third."

Poor David. Somebody please protect him.

Spencer: "Yeah, I think people abuse David. I get that vibe. Or at least, I feel it in my heart. Like I wanna put ants in your bunk or something."

David: "Well, I think that says more about maybe some of the hurt you're carrying with you. And sometimes when people don't know how to process that, they act out. Do you want some trail mix?"

David just said his favorite part of trail mix is the raisins which is so cute. "They have a little bit of salt on them, which isn't typical for a raisin."

And he keeps telling chatters to watch their language.

David: "Who is my favorite camper? Aww, you know I couldn't pick a favorite! . . . But I know who has the most potential, even if he doesn't want to admit it."

I KNEW IT!!!!!

I've been saying for years that David doesn't have a favorite and gravitates towards the ones he thinks need him the most AND I FINALLY GOT ONE RIGHT!

David: "Well you know, Gwen swears and that's okay."

shipping intensifies

David: [gasp] "The moss is growing on the north side of the rock!"

Every time he nerds out about weird shit in the game I gain 3 seconds to my life.

Spencer: "Did you get teabagged?"

David: "What's that?"

Spencer: "It's where somebody places their most intimate bits on you for . . . friendship."

David: [softly] "Oh, I don't know about that."

Also David confirms that the whole show has been a single summer, so please see the "vindication" gif above.

David: "I know a lot of fun camp songs."

Spencer: "Sing 3."

David: [starts singing] "Bum-bum-bumblebee, bumblebee tuna, I love bumblebee, bumblebee tuna . . ."

Spencer: "Okay, please stop. I immediately regret this decision."

David: "Max said the same thing! One of my campers. And, uh, and my co-counselor, Gwen."

He's literally made of sunshine. I would die for this fictional man.

Spencer: "Are people at camp against their will? I feel like they are."

David: "No! . . . They don't always like it immediately, but it grows on them."

Spencer: "It sounds like they're there against their will."

David: "Well I just think that's a negative way of looking at it."

FWIW Spencer makes an excellent foil to David. Not as aggressive as Max or as dour as Gwen, but he brings a very . . . like, straight-man energy to the conversation. Like how a normal person would react to David IRL. I'd enjoy seeing these two interact more.

Spencer: "It's like your overpositivity is wanting me to balance it out with negativity."

David: "You know, I feel like that dynamic's pretty popular with me."

eeeeeeee <3

And the last one that I personally found noteworthy:

David: "One day we'll be able to afford safety equipment. Until then, we'll just have to deal with Quartermaster's Ropes Course. And a lot of pillows."

There's point near the last 20 minutes where either it got kinda boring or I just got too tired to keep track. But if there are any quotes you think I missed, please share them! This was a really lovely bit of content to feed our starving maw, and I appreciate Miles very very very much for taking one for the team.

[riddlecrux]

The quiet power of emotions - a study of Azriel's feelings (part one)

I would love to preface this meta with my favorite disclaimer that everything I will discuss is based on what I have gathered from SJM writing. The quotes used in this post will serve as a starting point for further analysis. Additionally, I will use symbolism, metaphors, and literary device methods to build up my reasoning and beliefs. On another note, this, as usual, is strictly pro-Elriel meta. If they are not your cup of tea and you wish to comment, please be civil and bring arguments supported by the text.

I've wanted to study Azriel’s behavior in ACOFAS, since it's an official novella and it was translated and published in many countries. Since it has come to my attention that some people say that without Azriel's POV, Elriel wouldn't have anything to be based on (which is totally wrong) I decided to tackle Azriel's behavior and show how he had exhibited his feelings for Elain even before ACOSF came out. The scene I would like to start with this series (meta series if I may call it that way) is the one where Rhys and Azriel talk about Illyria, Jurian, and Vassa. Rhys constantly observes Azriel, and he decides to drop this.

“Send Lucien, then. As our human emissary.” I studied the tenseness in Azriel’s shoulders, the shadows veiling half of him from the sunlight. “Lucien is away right now.”

We can see that Azriel is uncomfortable. He's tense and he even shields himself from Rhys' prying gaze. It's all because Lucien was mentioned - which is a bit telling at this point.

Az’s brows rose. “Where?” I winked at him. “You’re my spymaster. Shouldn’t you know?”

Rhys is kind of testing the waters as well, you can say he's railing up Azriel to bring some reaction. However, the question is why would he? What is the reason behind this behavior? It came out of nowhere in the novella, so it's even more surprising to us to reflect upon it, taking into account what transpired in the bonus POV in ACOSF.

Az crossed his arms, face as elegant and cold as the legendary dagger at his side. “I don’t make a point of looking after his movements.” “Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.”

I highlighted Azriel's body language because it's very important. Here we have the notion of crossing arms, which can mean that someone is anxious, resistant, tense, insecure, afraid, or defensive. As we can pinpoint some of these emotions are present in this particular scene - Azriel definitely shields himself up, not only by physically crossing arms but also in the indignation of his expressionless face. The fascinating thing is the addition of the comparison between Azriel's cold face and his legendary dagger - which only further solidifies that Truth Teller is in fact a big part of Shadowsinger. Summarizing up with what we got from these passages we have: - tenseness - obstructing oneself from the view - defensive stance - crossing arms - coldness - emotionless

I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.” To know when and if Lucien sought her out. What they did together.

Here comes my favorite part in this conversation - Rhys seeing himself in Azriel at that moment and Azriel keeping in mind Elain's privacy and agency. Some people try to paint Azriel as some sort of a toxic guy, who is so traumatized that he doesn't value anyone but himself. I'm wondering where this reasoning came from - since nothing exclusively supports that theory. It's clear that Azriel shows respect towards Elain, as stated above in the quotes - even if at this moment, he is clearly showing signs of jealousy. Which, once again is totally fine. All bat boys showed jealousy throughout the books, and every one of them loved their significant other with all their flaws and weaknesses. But going back to the quote, we are met with the assumption about Azriel's decision of not spying on Lucien - given by Rhysand. Nevertheless, something must have had triggered such response to Azriel's behavior and his stance - that's why I strongly believe that Rhys knew what Azriel felt like (in ACOFAS he's testing the waters, trying to see if his assumptions are right or wrong, in ACOSF he pulls a rank because of the consequences of the possible outcome with Lucien being so close.)

“You sure about that?” I asked quietly. Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.”

Rhys noticed and understood that his assumptions about Azriel's feelings and emotions are correct, that's why his tone changed. He is constantly observing and giving us very detailed descriptions of the changes undergoing in Azriel's persona while discussing Lucien (and inwardly Elain.) Now, let's look at the metaphor used to underline his emotions in relation to his Siphons. Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. - gutter - flicker and burn unsteadily - foreboding - a feeling that something bad will happen; fearful apprehension

SJM used these words in such a situation - a whole sentence that indicates turmoil that is happening inside Azriel. Behind his aloof expression, we got to know that his emotions are restless, that what he is experiencing is sound and present at this moment. We see that by the description of his Siphons - turning dark at the mention of Lucien's possible whereabouts. We don't necessarily know what Azriel thought - if it was apprehension connected to the possibility of Lucien being in the same house, near Elain, or even somewhere where Azriel wouldn't have expected him to be. Judging by the course of the conversation, I would be inclined to believe that it was thought of Lucien being close to Elain.

I straightened at the pure order in the words. But I said, voice slipping into a drawl, “He went to the Spring Court. He’ll be there for Solstice.”

As we are in Rhys POV we can see that he has been caught off guard by the way Azriel delivers his line, yet he masks it with a drawl. Was it because something that Rhys suspected came true? As in, for example, some validation about Azriel and Elain's relationship? We can guess, however, the text clearly states that Rhys was somehow surprised by the tone of his friend. The pure order is what initially made me reread ACOFAS and this scene few times since it carries a heavy chunk of foreshadowing, but also the weight of Azriel's emotions.

Azriel doesn't let anything on his face, which is almost devoid of emotions while talking to Rhys about Lucien - yet, we get so many descriptions about the way his tone changes, his body language, his Siphons, and gaze. Even if he doesn't show externally that he is feeling all those emotions, that doesn't mean that he lacks them. Because, clearly what we have in the text, suggests that Azriel exhibits symptoms of jealousy. This is completely understandable since in the books we get to know that he and Elain have already started getting to know each other off the pages. Another interesting thing is, how structured and written this scene is. We have an insight into Rhysand's thoughts and he is thinking about Feyre and Tamlin.

With Tamlin, it was more complicated than that. More complicated than I let myself usually dwell on. He was still in love with Feyre. I couldn’t blame him for it. Even if it made me want to rip out his throat. I shoved the thought away.

Rhysand acknowledges the fact that the whole thing with Tamlin is complicated, as he repeats in his mind - the situation was something that literally destroyed one of the Courts. It's also peculiar and worth noticing that Rhys is aware of the love Tamlin has for Feyre, and even if he knows that, he is ready to kill Tamlin.

In the contrast, the talk is about Azriel, Lucien, and... Elain. Another triangle that is, in fact, complicated.

“I’ll discuss Vassa and Jurian with Lucien when he returns. See if he’s up for another visit.” I angled my head. “Do you think he can handle being around Graysen?” Az’s expressionless face was precisely the reason he’d never lost to us at cards. “Why should I be the judge of that?”

Rhys asks about Lucien and how Azriel sees him behaving around Graysen, which in my opinion is another instance of testing Spymaster. I angled my head, which is what Rhysand does and synonym to angle is tilt. Once again we are going to look at what does body language says about it. It can indicate curiosity, suspicion, and in some cases even uncertainty. In this particular moment, I believe it's curiosity mixed with suspicion - Rhys has been observing Azriel the moment he changed the subject of the conversation to Lucien. We also have another description of Azriel's expressionless face - showing us, readers, that Rhys notes the changes in his behavior. Azriel even proceeds with questioning his friend about the purpose of that inquiry and how he of all people is the one who is capable of being a judge in this case. I think we can see it as some sort of dodging, stalling even.

“You mean to tell me that you weren’t bluffing when you said you didn’t track Lucien’s every movement?” Nothing. Absolutely nothing on that face, on his scent. The shadows, whatever the hell they were, hid too well. Too much. Azriel only said coldly, “If Lucien kills Graysen, then good riddance.”

Even if Azriel is described as expressionless and almost emotionless in this scene, we do see the moments when his feelings came up to the surface. Just like here, Azriel bottles down his anger and other emotions, letting out only his coldness. However, the question is why? Why so much iciness and apprehension? If the conversation and subjects of it weren't important to him, he would have probably behaved as usual - with his aloofness, but not necessarily hostility hid behind the frostiness. What's even more notable is the fact that Rhys comments about how his shadows hid his emotions/feelings, even on his scent. Azriel did it on purpose, he covered himself so he wouldn't be detected - or better to say to cover up his true emotions that Rhysand could have easily spotted. The biggest tell about it is the addition of "too much". If there wasn't anything to hide or the emotions under the cover were vain or small - Rhysand wouldn't have had added that thought.

No. Sort of. “I’d think bankrolling her apartment and drinking was gift enough.” Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …” Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

The conversation changes its topic - and Rhys starts to discuss sisters and presents. We see that Azriel's first reaction is rooted in body language. He is running his hand through his hair which suggests nervousness, frustration, stress, or even a sign of disagreement over whatever is being said. From all these things I think we can lean towards nervousness the most or even frustration - since just before that leap of the topic he was immersed deep down inside his feelings and tried to mask his true emotions about Lucien and Elain. Another thing is that Rhysand also notices that it's unusual for Azriel to stutter, stumble with his words which he does after he runs his hand through his hair. He's nervous.

“No,” I said, and meant it. Az seemed to loose a sigh of relief. Seemed to, since all but a breath of air passed from his lips. “I don’t think Nesta gives a shit, and I don’t think Elain expects to receive anything from us. I’d leave the sisters to exchange presents amongst themselves.” Az nodded distantly.

Rhysand doesn't even know if he can call Azriel's sigh a sigh since it seems that all it was, was just a short exhale. I do think that it was a sigh - of relief. However, we can speculate about what the relief is connected to. If it is for not buying gifts or maybe because the conversation steered in another direction and all these pent-up emotions, feelings, and even frustrations could finally be released? What's clear is that Azriel feels a lot, in this scene particularly. He is hiding it behind his shadows, obstructing it from Rhys, but also from the reader's point of view. Nevertheless, SJM used an enormous chunk of body language to show us what Azriel is feeling - jealousy. Another thing is that he seemed to think about what's being said about sisters and their gifts - because he was described to be nodding distantly.

Az nodded knowingly. He’d always understood me best—more than the others. Save my mate. Whether it was his gifts that allowed him to do so, or merely the fact that he and I were more similar than most realized, I’d never learned.

I love this quote and that it comes from Rhysand's POV as well. It shows that Rhysand knew and his suspicions were, in fact, correct - because he probably saw himself and his infatuation with Feyre in the way Azriel behaved with Elain. I do also think that it will come back in the next book - the bond between Azriel and Rhysand, and probably some of the small fallout because of what had happened with them in Azriel's POV. SJM put Lucien, Elain, and Azriel in here, while Rhysand thought about his situation with Feyre and Tamlin. Two triangles, two different, complicated outcomes, and relationships. Forbidden romance? Yes. Politically connected? Yes. Could start a war? Yes. There are so many similarities between them.

The thing with Azriel is that his feelings aren't over the top - he's not vocal about them. The power of his emotions lies in the quietness and his actions. If we sat back and looked at scenes in which he acts towards Mor or Elain, we can see that his strength in loving someone isn't connected to words, but rather than that - presence and behavior.

[darthkruge]

1 + 2 from prompt list #5 plz 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Can I Kiss You? (Pt 1)

Prompts: “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” + “Can I kiss you?”

Warnings: A little language, Anakin is a bit of a little shit (affectionately), Reader is kinda shy, both of them are idiots but we love that for them <3

Words: 1.6k

A/N: I assume you wanted this with Ani because he’s basically the only person I’ve been writing for lately but, if not, I’m sorry!! Thank you for sending something in! Also this was so fucking fun to write, I loved it so much. I got carried away a little, my brain kinda ran with it so yeah! Also, this is kinda tooth rotting fluff, even for me, so be prepared.

Part 2 (there is now a sequel!)

(gif not mine)

You and Anakin were partnered together for a mission. It was fairly simple, nothing battle related -- purely diplomatic. Honestly, you weren’t sure why you two were even sent on it; it felt like somewhat of a waste for two Padawans to go on a random mission to Naboo. Even so, if it allowed you to spend more time with Anakin, you didn’t mind.

You had this raging crush on him from the moment you saw him. He was gorgeous and confident without being off-puttingly cocky. He was tall, his hair was soft, his eyes were piercing, and his smile and laugh were contagious. 

Then, as the two of you grew closer, this crush developed into something deeper. You learned of his heart, his kindness, his selflessness, his desires, his needs, his fears. You were able to see the boy behind the prophecy and you truly, unequivocally, loved him. 

“Come on, Y/N, hurry up!” Anakin’s joking tone broke you from your thoughts. You smiled back and ran up to him, playfully hitting his back as you caught up. He took your hand and the two of you continued walking, side by side. 

These displays of affection weren’t uncommon between the two of you. Early on, you saw how he enjoyed your touch, always leaning into it when you’d accidentally brush against him or give him a quick hug after a mission. He, too, saw how you reacted when he put his arm around your shoulders or brushed your hair behind your ear. 

Since the rest of the Jedi frowned upon connections and, thus, weren’t as forthcoming with affection, the two of you were quickly bonded. You were so attuned with each other that you now just knew when the person was searching for that physical connection. It had become natural, the sort of expected comfort that becomes impossible to live without. 

The two of you walked through the gardens by the palace in Naboo, enjoying the sun’s warmth. You’d already talked to the government officials you needed to, attempting to figure out which other planets to get involved in the peace treaties. Thankfully, it went quickly and now you had the rest of the day to spend with Ani before returning home to Coruscant. 

He led you to a secluded bench and plopped down, pulling you beside him. He pulled an apple from a tree and offered it to you. You thanked him and accepted it, allowing the crunchy texture and sweet flavor into your mouth. He watched you, grinning at your excitement. 

“Okay, I’ve got a question for you,” Anakin said.

Okay. This has got to be good. “Shoot, Skywalker.”

“Who was your first?”

You choked on your apple, sputtering at his audacity! Anakin howled at your reaction, coming up behind you to thump your back a few times until you stopped choking. 

“Dumbass!” You yelled, causing Anakin to keel over in another fit of laughs. 

“You’re going to alert the entire palace!” He hushed you, gasping in breaths between his laughs.

You rolled your eyes, elbowing him in the gut. “Hey! Okay, okay, okay,” He said, holding up his hands in mock surrender before taking a pause. “But, seriously! Who was your first?”

“Anakin! That’s- I- Anakin!” You were so taken aback you couldn’t even form words. You were so caught off guard and, also, quite perplexed. “Ani, we’re not allowed to do, you know, that”

Anakin’s lips curled into a playful smirk at your response. “Maker, Y/N, I know! I meant, like, kissing… Who was your first kiss?”

Your face heated up quickly. You were hoping he’d drop it but apparently not. You didn’t want to admit that you hadn’t exactly had the chance to do that yet. You fiddled with your hands and looked away, embarrassed. 

“Wait, have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“No…” You mumbled underneath your breath, still refusing to meet his eyeline.

Now, Anakin’s gaze softened. He never meant to make you feel uncomfortable or judged, he truly thought you had. I mean, look at you! Someone had to have wanted to kiss you before! His hand gently came up to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at him. 

His gaze saddened when it met yours, seeing how affected you were by his questions “It’s okay, Y/N! You don’t need to feel ashamed, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“I mean, it’s not like I haven’t had options. I totally could have been kissed by now if I wanted to!” You huffed indignantly, crossing your arms. 

Anakin laughed, glad to see some of your fight returning to you. He knew that if you were being defensive and stubborn, you couldn’t be that mad at him. He looked at you for a minute, wondering. He’d been in love with you for as long as he could remember but refused to act on it; he knew how much being a Jedi meant to you and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. Even so, he so badly wanted to come home to you each night, to hold you, to be the one you could turn to with any and everything, to be the person you loved and who loved you, always. 

He thought about it for a moment more and decided he might as well try. “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes widened and you gaped at his question. “You- you want to kiss me?”

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, mentally wondering if this was a good or bad sign. “I, uh, I mean, yeah… You’re really kind and intelligent and, um, super nice to look at… And since you haven’t been I just thought you might wanna…” 

“I think you’re super nice to look at too, Ani,” You teased. You were blushing at his words and practically pinching yourself. You’d wanted to hear them for so long, it almost didn’t feel real. 

He allowed himself to slightly smile, hope creeping into his expression. “Is that a yes?”

You laughed, smiling too. You nodded, looking into his trusting eyes. 

“If you wanna stop, just let me know, okay?” He said, sensing your nerves.

“Okay, Ani”

His fingers grazed over your jaw before guiding it towards him, tilting it slightly. Your eyes closed in anticipation, butterflies ready to burst out of your stomach at any moment. His mouth touched yours and your brain went completely fuzzy. Maker, Kriff, Fuck, Maker!! Is this really happening? 

The kiss was so gentle, so sweet. It was just his lips against yours, nothing more. He didn’t want to frighten you by shoving his tongue down your throat on your first try. He just wanted to make you feel wanted and safe. 

He pulled apart after a moment and looked at you. “Was that okay?” He laughed as your eyes lit up and you nodded excitedly. 

“Can we do that again?” After feeling his lips and being so close to him, you never wanted that sensation to go away. 

“Of course, love” Anakin said quietly, pulling you into him once more. 

This time, he was a bit more intense, lips moving against yours slowly. You felt yourself get lost in him, in his taste and smell. You went on instinct, allowing your hands to weave into his hair. He hummed as you did so, hands finding their way to your waist and pulling you slightly closer. 

He was still extremely careful. As much as he wanted to pour all his passion into this kiss, this moment was about you, not him. He led the kiss, not wanting you to feel like a fish out of water, and smiled into your lips. When you smiled back, Anakin swore his entire body warmed. He was so glad you agreed to do this with him, to allow him to be the person to share this moment with. 

When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and cupped your cheeks. You looked at him shyly and he brushed his thumbs against your cheekbones. 

“You were really good at that, are you sure you’ve never done that before?” He joked. 

You pushed his shoulder back bashfully. “Shut up, Ani!”

“I’m serious,” He laughed, “You were really good!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, baby. You’re amazing.”

You looked at him for a beat. “So,” You said, dragging out the word, “What do we do now?”

“Well, the ship leaves for Coruscant in thirty minutes so…”

“Anakin Skywalker, you know what I mean!”

He chuckled. “Okay, fine! I mean, if you want, of course, we could be together?”

“Like, together together?”

“Only if you want!”

“Do you want?”

Anakin nodded. 

“I, uh, I’d really like that, too, Ani”

He broke out into this big goofy grin and you followed suit. That damn, contagious smile. You knew there would be a million complications. The chances of it working out were practically unfathomable. The Council would kill you both if they found out, you’d never make rank! But you looked into his eyes and thought you could beat the odds. 

Young love had a way of making you feel invincible. He was all you ever wanted. It was as if nothing could ever affect you if you were together. The Council wouldn’t find out, you’d be that one in a million couple, you’d grow old together and be happy and peaceful. It was the most unsure thing you’d ever done and, yet, nothing felt more certain. 

As this realization swarmed round your head, you dove back in, connecting your lips once more. The garden around you faded and the weight of this new secret-relationship disappeared. It was just you and Anakin. Nothing would ever tear you apart.

----

I just made a taglist so if you wanna join... (dm me if you wanna be taken off!)

permanent tags:

@saltybreaddream

anakin tags:

@anakinswhore @kennedywxlsh @coldlilheart @adamgetawaydriver @chokemeanakin @gayidioot @starwars-whore @katelynnwrites @haydens-moles

[cacoetheswriting]

with you, i want it all - berlin

Warnings: talk of pregnancy / children, allusions to smut (nothing graphic), a little angst, & a little fluff Word Count: 0.5k Request: anonymous: “Hi, could you write something with Berlin. Where the reader is pregnant and she heard what he tells Rio about women and children. But for some reason it's not the same with the reader he's happy and want that kid with her. thank you so much”

-

Having children wasn't necessarily something the two of you discussed. Primarily because neither of you foreseen having them anytime in the near future.

The relationship was still in its early stages. It was still quite new and there were many things you haven't discovered about one another yet. For example, if having and raising kids was something either of you would even like.

Therefore, as you stared at the stick in your hand, your heart was beating so fast you swore it could explode at any given second. Various thoughts were running through your mind while you waited, rather impatiently, for the result to appear. The main being, children was something you probably should have talked about.

The miniature plus sign both excited and terrified you.

The second it appeared, your heart soared. The overwhelming feeling of pure happiness surprised you a little, since prior to this moment starting a family wasn't something you necessarily dreamed about. There was something about the thought of a family with Berlin however, that made your previous apprehensions disappear.

Now all you needed to do was share the news with him. Unfortunately for you, the universe had other plans.

Once you found him, you happened to overhear a conversation that only made your situation worse. The ache in your chest was insufferable and despite your better judgement, you barged into the room.

“You don't want kids?!” It was more of a statement than a question.

Berlin turned his attention to you, a confused look spread across his handsome features. He took a step towards you, yet still keeping his distance because judging by your body language you didn't want him any closer.

At this point, Rio had scattered from the room, leaving you and the jet haired thief alone.

“You don't want kids?!” You repeated, and Berlin questioned, “Where’s this coming from?”

Instead of responding, you threw the positive test at him. He caught it with ease and as soon as he registered what it was he was now holding, his eyes widened. His head snapped in your direction once again, gaze instantly locking with yours.

“I just took it, and I was on my way to tell you but I guess I know now how you feel about our situation.” Tears began to slowly trail down your cheeks as you spoke.

Berlin shook his head. “No, no.” Throwing caution to the wind, he wrapped his arms tightly around you. He placed a soft kiss on top of your head before continuing, “I wasn’t talking about us. Trust when I say, you changed me.”. You could feel him smile against you. “With you, I want it all.”

You glanced up at him. “You mean that?”

“I do. Of course I do.” Berlin promised and you couldn't help but smile. Seeing the cheery expression on your face caused him to lift you with little to no effort. He spun you around a few times, both of you laughing with glee.

“We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents.”

-

masterlist

[lillianawayne99]

Fireborn Chapter Three

Pairing: Jon Snow & Oberyn Martell X OC

Genre: NSFW AU

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: smut, violence, fluff, blood, mixes the books and show, spoilers for seasons 6-8

Synopsis: Valaena Fireborn of House Targaryen has reached Westeros after spending her life in exile. While learning about her homeland and preparing for the war ahead, she meets two men who would change her life forever and learns of a threat to all humanity.

Previous Chapter // Fireborn // Masterlist

“I am not your little princess.”

Jon’s skin was rough with callouses and warm against mine. His hand was notably larger than mine, his fingers wrapped around my hand in a way that felt protective. I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about how my hand felt in his. Did he like that my fingers were slimmer than his? What about my own callouses from years of holding a weapon? Was he expecting hands that were soft and smooth like a Lady’s are supposed to be?

“I won’t behave like a queen while I’m here.” I didn’t know how long we stood there before I broke the silence. Time felt slowed when all I could think about was the man before me.

“Thank you.” Jon’s voice was taught, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of my chest nearly pressing into his, his hand encompassing mine, what I’d told him, or something else. By the way he suddenly dropped my hand like I'd burned him, I’d guess it was the close quarters.

“Is there anything else you want to ask me?” I took a small step back to create some distance between us.

“The language you and your escort speak, is it Dornish?” Of course he came back to that when I gave him the chance to question me.

“Dothraki.” I’d already told him more than anyone else in this country knew about me and he took it well. Adding to it wouldn’t hurt, would it? “I suppose that only leaves you with more questions. My siblings are dead. Before he died, Viserys married me to Khal Drogo. He’s dead now too.”

“Khal’s are Dothraki horselords, right?” Jon didn’t offer me sympathy or pity I didn’t want. A tell tale sign he’s lost loved ones too.

“Yes. That's why Kovarro calls me Khaleesi.” Seven fucking hells why am I telling this man everything?

“You said you’re the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, that means?” The way he spoke without judging or interrogating me, asking questions out of pure curiosity, made him seem trustworthy.

“I united all of the Dothraki into a single horde. I hate to ask more favors of you, but I’d like to send a raven to my in-laws in Dorne. I’m hoping to form an alliance with them.” I doubted I’d have time to travel south to visit the Martells before my army and advisors reach Dragonstone in three moons.

“Of course, the ravenry is in the Maester’s Turret near the kitchens. I’d like to tell my sister you’re here. The Lady of Winterfell should know.” Gods this was turning into a big mess.

I only intended for King Jon Snow to know who I really am, and now he wanted his sister to know? I didn’t know the woman, I hadn’t even met her. How was I supposed to know if she wouldn't tell anyone? I was hoping word wouldn’t spread I was in the country before I was already on Dragonstone, but who knows if that would happen now.

“I don’t want word to spread that I’m here.” I reiterated my initial request, making sure he knew I didn’t want Lady Stark to know if she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“Don’t worry, she can keep a secret.” Jon’s conviction convinced me that she could be trusted.

I gave him a small nod in agreement. If I wanted an ally of him and trusted him for some unknown reason, I had to show him. I needed to earn his trust, and if that meant letting his sister know about me, so be it. I hoped I wasn’t wrong about him, or his trust in her.

He turned around and walked over to the door. Holding it open, he followed me out into the hallway where Kovarro was waiting. Jon left us to find our way around the castle while he went in search of his sister.

“How did it go?” Kovarro followed me through the halls of the Great Keep.

“Well, I think. He wasn’t angry, he just asked me a few questions.” I meandered through the building until I found my way out into the courtyard where men were sparring.

“What questions?” He was concerned, but he had his reasons.

“Why I’m in the North. What my intentions are.” Jon asked me other things as well, but Kovarro wouldn’t like it if I told him. He’d be more suspicious of our host. I should probably share my companion’s notions, but something about the man I confided in made me trust him.

“What did you tell him?” Kovarro was just as wary as normal. I couldn’t blame him for it, his job was to protect me.

“The truth.” I was vague on purpose. We were speaking in the Common Tongue. Anyone could hear us, and I didn’t want them to know what we were talking about.

The rest of our walk to the ravenry was silent apart from the sounds of the bustling castle. People were constantly walking by us, going about their daily lives. The dull roar of people talking and sparring could lull anyone into a sense of false security, but we weren’t anyone. We were traitors to the crown conspiring to overthrow the current monarch. If the wrong person found out, our heads would decorate the walls of the Red Keep.

It didn’t take long for us to reach the ravenry. The Maester helped me find a scroll, quill, and inkwell so I could write my message. He promised to send it off for me, but I wasn’t planning on letting him out of my sight. I needed to ensure he didn’t read it or forget to send it out. The Martells were the one house I could almost certainly count on to join my war against Tommen. They hated the Lannisters for reasons much deeper than my own.

Prince Martell,

I hope this letter reaches you in good health. After years in foreign lands, your sister-in-law is in Winterfell eagerly awaiting your response.

All my love, Allyria Martell

Hopefully, they could understand what I meant. If this letter fell into the wrong hands and was clearer, a Lannister force would certainly be sent North to root me out. I couldn’t give myself away by stating my real name, but Elia Martell married my older brother, Rhaegar, and I didn’t think Doran’s wife is named Allyria, if she’s alive. Add in the hint about Essos, and they should immediately know who sent the letter.

Maester Wolkan sent the letter out immediately after I sealed it. He didn’t try to read it or wait around to send it with Kovarro and I watching him carefully. Either he could sense that sending the message out immediately was of grave importance, or he was scared one of us would harm him if he tried anything. Both assumptions would be correct.

As soon as I saw the raven take flight towards the south, I took my leave of the Maester and found myself wandering towards the courtyard. The air filled with the sound of metal on metal, soft and loud grunts of men clashing their swords. Kovarro must have seen the longing on my face. Within moments after I realized where my feet were taking me, he had found an opening in the swathe of men sparring.

“We haven’t had a chance to practice in quite a while, Khaleesi.” A playful smirk tugged at his lips while he pulled his twin arakhs from his belt. “Care for a session?”

“You have no idea, zhey qoy qoyi.” My lips lifted into a smirk that mirrored his own.

I lifted my own arakhs from where they hooked onto the belt wrapped around my waist, holding them loosely at my sides. Kovarro made the first move, swiping lazily at my stomach with his right hand. I easily knocked his blade away from my dress. He tried to use my defense as a distraction and swiped at my throat with his left, but I bent backwards to avoid the blade.

A cold gust of wind caressed my face while his arakh passed by my face. I stood and stepped forward, frustrated that my dress prevented me from moving as freely as I liked while I swept both of my blades towards his chest. A harsh ring of metal colliding rang through the air when he brought his own blades up to block mine. We stood there relentlessly pressing our blades into each other, trying to push the other back.

My feet dug into the ground and my brow furrowed in concentration while I struggled against his strength. We were at a stalemate, but I couldn’t have that. I furiously pushed with all my strength and forced his weapons away from each other. Taking advantage of the opening, I swung at his face and stomach at the same time, but he managed to block the attack.

“Something the matter, Khaleesi?” Kovarro taunted how uncomfortable I looked.

“I hate these fucking dresses!” The words slipped from my mouth before I had time to process them. I supposed I had the adrenaline from the fight to thank for that.

The frustration of fighting in a skirt and corset finally filled me, pushing me to charge Kovarro with all my strength. He wasn’t expecting the sudden motion. His momentary shock allowed me to hook my right arakh in his and yank it out of his hands. In the same fluid motion, I brought my other arakh up to his neck.

I didn’t have time to process the look of admiration in his eyes due to the raucous laughter coming from my right. Putting my arakhs back onto my hips, I looked over to see a tall, bearded man with red hair and bright blue eyes dressed in furs holding his chest while he laughed. My gaze stretched up to the ramparts above the man laughing to see none other than Jon Snow watching me with surprise. Did he think my weapons and calluses were for show?

“You fight better than most men, little shadowcat.” The bearded man had a strange accent I couldn’t place. It was similar to Jon’s Northern accent, but distinctly different.

“Little shadowcat?” I raised an eyebrow at the man’s nickname for me.

“Little shadowcat.” He mirrored me by raising his own eyebrow and stalked towards me.

“Who are you?” I fought the urge to look back at Kovarro. He didn’t know who this man was either and would most likely just give me a small shrug of confusion.

“Tormund Giantsbane.” He stretched a hand out towards me. I’d never met a wildling, but based on the furs he was wearing, I’d wager a guess that he was one. What were wildlings doing south of the Wall, and as guests of the King?

“Allyria Martell.” I took his outstretched hand.

A soft grunt escaped my lips when he took my hand and pulled me into him, my free hand flying to his chest to steady myself. What the hell was this man playing at? Did he know nothing about Westerosi customs and that the family name I gave him is that of a noble house? Despite his glaring lack of manners, he was irrefutably attractive in a savage kind of way. Not that I was complaining, Westerosi consider the Dothraki to be savages and their culture is mine now.

“You dress like a Lady, but you don’t fight like one.” His voice was full of reverence despite the words that should have been mocking me.

“Are you saying Ladies can’t be warriors?” I tried to step away from him, but he had managed to place a hand on my back without me noticing and had me trapped against him. Based on the smirk on his face, he was enjoying this much more than I was, especially since I wasn’t enjoying it at all. I’d only ever let one man hold me like this, and I wasn’t intending to change that.

“I would never.” The look of feigned offence on his face almost made me smile. Almost. He let go of my hand and reached up to gently pull my braid around to rest on my shoulder. “Kissed by fire.”

“Only in the sunlight.” I came to my senses and wriggled out of his grasp, slapping his hand away from my hair. “Get off me.”

My bells in my hair chimed when I moved my hair back behind me and stepped around the bearded wildling. Jon was no longer on the ramparts watching, so I made my way to the Great Hall. I needed to bathe, and I didn’t know who else to ask about having a bath drawn. I could draw my own bath, but I didn’t know where to get the water. The safest course of action is to ask the man in charge, hopefully he wasn’t too busy for me.

When I was mere feet away from the door to the Great Hall, a woman clad in a dark red cloak left the building in a hurry. Her eyes were downcast, focusing on the ground before her feet. I wanted to know what was wrong with her, but it wasn’t my place to ask such questions.

The mood in the Great Hall was tense when I entered. Jon stood behind the table at the head of the room and an older man missing part of his fingers on one hand was standing near him.

“What can I help you with, My Lady?” Jon was in a sour mood, I had bothered him at a bad time.

“I need to draw a bath, and I didn’t know who else to ask.” I slowly approached Jon, standing on the other side of the table.

My arms instinctively wrapped around my chest to protect myself from the cold in the room. The heat from sparring with Kovarro had left me, and the chill in the air had seeped through my dress into my bones for the first time since I arrived. I was used to the heat of Essos, not this biting cold.

“I’ll have a servant draw a bath in your room.” The lack of emotion in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” I nodded towards him politely and made my way around the table to leave through the doors he had shown me earlier, not wanting to overstay my welcome and trouble him longer.

“Can you find your way?” He gently grasped my arm, stopping me just as I passed by the table.

“I remember well enough.” My body turned toward him and my head lifted to gaze up at him without me telling it what to do. His lips were turned down, like they always were, but he didn’t look as tense as when I walked in.

“Are you cold, My Lady?” The question caused me to glance down to see that I had started to shiver.

“I haven’t gotten used to the chill yet, Your Grace.” When I looked back up, his brown eyes were filled with concern.

“Here.” Jon picked his thick fur coat up off the large table and wrapped it around my shoulders. The moment the fur rested on my shoulders, my body started to warm. The cloak smelled like him, and it was oddly comforting.

“Thank you. I should get going.” I didn’t want to ruin the small moment we shared, but I could tell he had more pressing matters to deal with than me wanting to wash off the sweat and grime from the day.

“Of course.” He adjusted the cloak so it wrapped around me snugly, then let me go with a wistful gaze.

Next Chapter

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[wither-rose-circus]

*slides into DMs*

Hello there, I would like to hear about your Listener Jimmy ideas

Disclaimer: this got really long I am So Sorry

So I’m not skimming through Jimmy’s entire series to get his full relationship with either entities it’s 100+ episodes long like Jesus fucking Christ but I did skim through a handful of videos to get a basic understanding

And I noticed they did mention Jimmy in the end credits, but I think what’s noteworthy is that they didn’t specifically praise him for anything like the others, only scolding him.

I assume that’s partially why the Listeners chose him.

For context, though, I wanna clarify my general Listener headcanons

• The Listeners are to the Nether what the Watchers are to the End

That is not to say they are from the Nether, but that it is their domain. Both the Nether and the End are (or were, in the Nether’s case) total wastelands. From what I understand, the series hinted at some sort of war between the two factions. That is what I believe caused these two lands to be destroyed. Prior to 1.16, the residents of the Nether were diseased and undead, hinting that some kind of disaster happened (Even now, the achievement for finding a bastion references some war among the Piglins, the End Cities have airships and are decked out with leftover enchanted diamond armor, etc). Now, what in the Nether has to do with the Listeners?

• The Listeners are related to Ghasts

Now I know that sounds weird, but hear me out. The description for the achievement Uneasy Alliance goes as follows: Rescue a ghast from the Nether, bring it safely home to the Overworld... and then kill it. This directly implies that ghasts are not native to the Nether, but to the overworld. Now what are ghasts obviously inspired by? Ghosts. What is the Nether obviously inspired by? Hell. What do you get when you put that together? Ghasts are player souls trapped in the Nether. How does this related to the Listeners? The Listeners had their souls trapped within the Nether in the form of ghasts in an attempt to wipe them out. Only some were eventually able to regain their senses and escape the Nether via players’ portals. But why were they trapped?

• The Listeners oppose the Watchers because they believe the Watchers are taking away players’ autonomy

This is less headcanon and more directly reading into the series. The Listeners tell the evolutionists that they need to take back their freedom, that the Watchers are controlling. My personal interpretation of the Watchers is that they are “Awoken,” which is based on how the credits poem references players awaking from dreams. They are essentially the end goal of that process. When a player passes through the portal in the End, the Watchers judge their soul and decide whether or not to awaken them. This leads to them ascending to the Aether (yes, that Aether), which they believe is the “perfect” version of the game (everyone being in creative and thus unable to fight or be hurt, constantly daytime so no mobs, access to the creative inventory to do whatever they please, etc). Now, how did they know what the Watchers were doing in the first place?

• The Listeners are former Watchers

Due to their similar designs, I believe Listeners are simply rebellious Watchers who believe no one group should have control over a player’s life. After the war, they were subsequently banished to the Nether, which has only recently begun to recover. However, this separation left them stripped of the Watcher’s all seeing eyes. This led them to utilize sound to more discretely convey their messages. They have dedicated themselves to “freeing” players from the Watchers’ grasps and recruiting whatever souls they can still get their hands on. This is where Jimmy finally comes in.

The Evolution server was unique in that the players brought to it were specifically chosen to be tested. It was essentially a recruitment effort. The Watchers state that choosing to take Grian was a difficult decision, likely meaning they assessed each one individually. Due to their dismissal of Jimmy, I take it he was not heavily considered. This negligence is what allowed the Listeners to latch onto Jimmy.

Jimmy arrives in the Evolutionist’s old spawn before any of them arrive. We know it was before because Jimmy placed the enderchests the Listeners gifted the rest of the team and because, upon returning in his next episode, the Listeners’ symbol is replaced with that of the Watchers. However, when the evolutionists show up, he’s nowhere to be found, only making his way back with the signs they left. But Jimmy’s videos imply he never really left the main area, so something happened to him between that cut. This is where I believe Jimmy was “marked” by the Listeners.

So now, tumblr user Harley the Pancake, I am so sorry I’ve rambled for like 3 pages without answering the question, but these are my headcanons for pseudo-Listener Jimmy, specifically in the context of 3rd Life:

• Jimmy has bouts of auditory foresight. They’re not consistent, but tend to happen in relation to bad things. This is why he got so defensive towards the Red Army. He foresaw them, specifically Ren and Martyn, killing Scott. However, these flashes are purely auditory, so he had no context as to how or why they killed Scott. His own paranoid imagination applied the idea of Scott being sacrificed (Ironically, this actually sealed Scott’s fate, as neither of them would’ve been killed the way they were had they joined the Red Army). Jimmy is not fully conscious of this ability and tends to chalk it up to gut feelings.

• Jimmy has Nether traits. This comes from more general evolutionary traits you would expect from having lived in a place like the Nether. Not being very affected by heat, more resilient to lava (yes I know that’s ironic for his first death to be lava but I said resilient, not immune), piglins are less likely to aggro on him, etc.

• Jimmy can understand both Standard Galactic and, to a lesser extent, Piglin. Standard Galactic is something he can read fluently while Piglin is something he can vaguely understand. He can’t speak Piglin because Piglin is a very guttural language and few players have the vocal cords for it. If you asked him how he knows these languages, he wouldn’t have an answer. (I also headcanon Scott to be inhuman in different ways, though, so he also knows Standard Galactic. Jimmy just kinda assumed it must’ve been a normal thing to know.)

• Jimmy vaguely remembers past dreams/lives, most notably sounds. He tends to remember sounds specifically so he gets this intense feeling of deja vu when several server members talk to him.

• Jimmy has incredibly conflicting feelings towards Grian for reasons he can’t explain. On one hand, Jimmy vaguely recognizes Grian as a friend from Evo. On the other, he has this instinctual discomfort due to Grian being a Watcher. He can’t tell Grian is a Watcher, he just gets this strange gut feeling around him. (Grian, on the other hand, is very aware Jimmy is part Listener.)

And that’s all I’ve got for now, sorry for how long this was!

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 26

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader   CW: Language, prejudice against MB, blood/injury, sexism A/N: as always, unbeta'd

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 26: Human Anatomy 

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May 4th, 1976

Following the Mary incident, there were two Death Eater attacks in Birmingham plastered all over the Daily prophet now clutched in everyone’s hand. Y/N watched from the sidelines as Lily gripped her copy so strongly that it began to tear where her fingernails were.

Distantly, she could hear Marlene and Dorcas attempting to distract them by fighting over the last Chocolate Frog. Y/N ignored them, her mood dampened from the news and played with her food idly. That was until she felt Sirius nudge her underneath the table, quietly placing the now stolen Chocolate Frog into her hand.

It was clear that she and Sirius reached a standstill. Ever since his outburst, he hadn’t been avoiding her — they still snuck around — but his witty and snarky comments were gone. He’d become more reclusive, shy, even, and couldn’t keep eye contact for too long. A few times, she even caught him entertaining other women and it caused her to stiffen up, laugh bitterly and chip away at any logic, reason — manifesting in irritation and resentment.

It was clear that she and Sirius reached a standstill. Ever since his outburst, he hadn’t been avoiding her — they still snuck around — but his witty and snarky comments were gone. He’d become more reclusive, shy, even, and couldn’t keep eye contact for too long. A few times, she even caught him entertaining other women and it caused her to stiffen up, laugh bitterly and chip away at any logic, reason — manifesting in irritation and resentment.

It was a game of cat and mouse and Y/N was the cat. So the gesture was surprising. She took it from him, smiling as she ripped open the package and split it into two, giving him the larger half. He gave a reticent smirk and went back to his desert.

Sirius Black was confusing.

She saw Remus had put down his copy of the prophet, who pressed his lips together to hide his amusement as he looked between the two. His brow rose; she looked anywhere but him.

It was nearing the end of dinner when James finally joined, just coming from his career consultation. He went over to Ravenclaw’s table first, talking admittedly with Emmeline before making his way over. He was uncharacteristically nervous as he sat down beside Y/N.

“Saved you a plate,” Peter greeted. A large plate of spaghetti hovered in front of him. Normally James would’ve dug in within seconds, but instead prodded at a meatball with his fork. Everyone noticed but ignored it.

“What took you so long?”

Sirius grinned. “I bet McGonagall was listing off the Quidditch teams that want him. Which one is it? Appleby? Puddlemere?”

“I call Ballycastle,” Marlene warned, “I want their spot!”

James remained quiet.

“Don’t tell us you’re going to live off your trust fund,” teased Remus, but it had a questioning tone.

James’s gaze flittered to Lily’s paper before he spoke.“They all reached out.”

Everyone gave a loud round of applause and cheers; Y/N ruffled his hair while Peter conjured one of the floating candles to explode into confetti.

“That’s amazing! Congratulations, Prongs! You deserve —” “I’m turning them down, for now.”

Everyone went still, smiles fading and utensils dropping.

Remus was the first to speak. His eyes glossed cautiously around the table before leaning in. “Want to go somewhere a little more private? To talk?”

James took a deep inhale, peering over to Mary’s empty seat. Still shaken up, Mary had been hiding away in her dorm. As Marlene liked to say, she was pulling a sickie, and nobody could blame her. Then James’ eyes strayed towards Y/N.

“I told McGonagall that I’m enlisting once school’s done.”

Peter placed a tentative hand on him, “What did you say?”

“Er… after everything that’s happened…” He took a deep breath, “I’ve been thinking… I don’t want to live in a world where the people I care about are judged — innocent people are being… slaughtered... I can’t — I can’t just sit here and let it happen! And the war won’t end — not unless people are there to fight.”

Lily ripped her newspaper as she snapped, “This isn’t the time for jokes, Potter. You can’t just say that and —”

“I’m not joking,” James states calmly yet firmly. “Quidditch can wait until the wizarding world is safe.”

Nobody spoke until Dumbledore dismissed dinner.

“I said the same to McGonagall,” Sirius added. Everyone’s head whipped towards him.

“Is this a sick plan you two haven’t told me about?” Remus scolded. His voice was laced in something Y/N couldn’t place but teetered on the edge of indignation.

Sirius shook his head. “No. Never mentioned it to him. It’s just… I want to fight people like… my… family.”

The phrase echoed in her head: my family… What did that mean?

“Then that’s what I’ll do too.” Marlene states.

Dorcas whipped her head towards her. “No, you won’t.”

“Potter’s got a point,” Marlene says. “What good will my influence — power and position I’ve got as a Pureblood do if I don’t put it to use? Besides, my brothers have all enlisted already. They help with the Ministry and Dumbledore.”

Y/N and Lily stayed quiet, both shared a look — the first time either made direct eye contact since their fight. It communicated worry and pure dread.

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May 14, 1976

“You pincushion. You’re going to break if you aren’t careful!” She’d been waiting outside the hospital wing for Remus who hobbled his way out with a pink flush.

The Marauders and girls were taking ‘partnering up’ seriously. The Marauders escorted any Muggleborns around the castle at night; James, Peter and Sirius using their blood status while Remus used his height and prefect title as leverage. Even Marlene made sure every first or second year was escorted safely too.

In particular, ever since the mention of enlisting and Mary’s attack, James and Sirius were ruthless — merciless to anyone that showed even the slightest allegiance to the other side. More hexes, jinxs and pranks ensued.

Remus tilted his head as his body shook with quiet laughter. “Just a tumble.”

“Clumsy giant.”

He ignored her, going to take her bag off her shoulder to carry.

“Now you’ve lost it — give it.”

“I’m fine,” he grunted, going to dangle the bag so she wouldn’t be able to take it. But Remus staggered forward a bit, having to stop walking and balance himself out. Y/N noticed, sighing as she linked her arm with Remus’, letting him lean against her for support as they walked.

He did seem peaky, she worried, he waved it off. The Marauders did say he’s ill…

“Are we picking up Butterbeer?”

“Mary and Marlene are getting it.”

“Oh… Mary… How is she?”

Y/N sighed as they turned and left through a secret passageway and into the yard. Today was the last Quidditch game of the year. “I’m not sure… we’re not exactly close and Marlene refuses to spill.”

“I’m glad she’s… okay — out and about. What about you?”

“Me?” She turned to Remus.

“No one has tried to hurt you, have they?”

“Nope.” Best to lie.

Remus loosen up at that. His head tilted to hear her clearer, body hunched over as if he’s trying to get closer.

His soft messy curls were strewn messily around like he just rolled out of bed. “Do tell if someone does. I know you can defend yourself but we all need to be there for each other.”

“Of course. You too?” He hummed.

The hot sun beat down against them as sweat began to form on her forehead. Remus wore a light sweater — just by looking at him, he made her feel uncomfortably warm.

“You’re not hot?” Y/N asked.

He dropped his head a bit and a sudden far-away look filled his eyes. “Erm — not really. I just prefer it.”

She instantly felt bad from his reaction. “Well, at least you look dashing.”

He nodded, smiling before making grabby hands. Y/N glanced sideways, already fishing out her cassette player from her pocket.

“All you do is use me for this thing.” “Hush.”

They walked together down the path, arm in arm, over bumps and dips. Both laughing at the other before Y/N noticed a fairly large ball of black trailing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was as tall as Flitwick and as long as Marlene’s broom.

Y/N felt herself stop, pulling away from Remus who was about to open his mouth. A rush of excitement filled her. “Is that a dog?!” She already let go of Remus, motioning him over as she dashed off into its direction.

The dog must’ve heard her footsteps before she came to a stop in front of it. Now, slowly walking up, her hand stuck out and waited for the dog to approach.

“Hi there, buddy!” She smiled largely as the dog sniffed her. There was the slightest hesitation before its head rubbed against her hand, moving happily as its tail wagged. Its head bowed, presenting its neck as a sign of submission. It even nudged her. She rubbed the side of the dog’s body. Its fur was shaggy, matted with a bit of dirt which had her nose wrinkled.

Remus eventually appears, watching them but once the dog notices him, it goes rigid, pulling away from Y/N, even going as far to growl at her. Although it’s weak, she still rips her hands away as the dog keeps its gaze on Remus.

“No! Please come back?”

The dog stopped growling, letting her pet him again but bared its teeth to Remus. Remus doesn’t seem to care as he watches the scene intently, a smirk crosses.

“I didn’t know Hogwarts had a dog!” Y/N scratches behind its ears. “You must be Kettleburn’s, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, he’s been around,” said Remus.

“Oh yeah? You seem like such a good boy!” Y/N then stands, picking up a stick before waving it, throwing it far. The dog bolts to retrieve it. “Why didn’t you tell me there was a dog?”

“I’m more of a cat person.”

The dog comes dashing back, stick in mouth as it runs circles around her. She goes to bend down, fingers gliding through its matted fur before getting caught. “You’re kind of disgusting.”

The dog looks at her, its eyes adjusting to open wider while Remus bursts out laughing. Y/N glances at him, questioning his unusual behaviour before reaching to grab the stick from its mouth. She transfigured it into a dog brush and went to work.

"... Kettleburn has really been neglecting you."

Remus’ hands go up to wipe his happy tears before dropping down to sit beside her. She can even feel his body shake with laughter. “You sure you don’t want to leave this mutt be?”

The dog growls at him, Y/N giggles.

“I don’t think he likes you much.”

His face level with the dog. “Don’t like him either.” The dog barks and Remus practically howls.

“So…” he has a sly smirk that tells her he’s up to no good. The light catches onto his eyes, glinting with golden specs like they were infused in him. “You and Padfoot have been chummy lately.”

The wagging tail halts and Y/N stops combing as they both stare at him. The dog pulls away from her grasp and growls at Remus. This time, it’s guttural and deep, sounding like a warning and losing its playful tone.

“I — ugh —” She falters, mentally slapping herself. “We’ve been getting along since Oats. Studying, spending time together… I got tired of fighting.”

“Mmm, I bet.” His voice is condescending. “I heard you want to be a Healer.”

“Yeah?”

“Say then, do you guys study —” The dog goes and bites down on his jeans, tugging harshly, drawing her attention but Remus continues to study her.

“Look at me, not at him,’” he says cockily. He leans in a challenging manner that has her flustered. He repeats, “Do you guys study… I don’t know… human anatomy?”

The dog barks madly — so loud that they’re getting stares from passing students. Y/N swore she could’ve died there while Remus bellows with laughter: his question answered. She bolted up, remaining silent and marched away from him who hobbled behind her, yelling out false apologies.

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Gryffindor, unsurprisingly, had another amazing win against Ravenclaw. James had improved as Captain drastically — confident with his position and team. Marlene improved too, she was almost as fast as the Snitch itself and never let a single Bludger slip past her while James scored goal after goal.

She and Remus still stuck by each other, walking down the rickety wooden stands as they observed the sea of red robes swarming the pitch. James pulled Emmeline into a kiss before he was holstered up by the Gryffindor team. Sirius was cheering him on while Peter was missing, having to leave right after the match for detention.

James then glanced back, along with Marlene, who waved while the two students grinned widely, sticking their thumbs up, fist-pumping in the air as a sign of congratulations.

But it wasn’t long until trouble came their way. Y/N wasn’t sure how Remus knew, but he suddenly went mute, his head perked up and swivelled around. In a fluid motion, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her flush against him; his hand wrapped around her protectively as he shifted his body to cover her and then bucked down; just before a Bludger came barreling their way.

Remus whipped his wand out, pointing at the Bludger that was hurling back, turning it into a balloon.

“The fuck?” Remus breathed out.

From where they stood, they were obscured by the shadows and wooden stands. The crowd couldn’t see them and the Gryffindor team was too occupied to notice. Cackling sounded from one of the exits. It was Crabble, Snape and two other Slytherin’s she didn’t know the names of.

“How cute! Ickle Lupin protecting his Muggle bitch!” Crabble said, flashing a dark smile.

“What did you call me!” Y/N shrieked, still in Remus’ hold before he finally let go.

“Watch what you’re saying,” Remus cautioned, voice dropping low. He stood tall as waves of authority emitted from him while he held his wand tightly, stepping in front of her. His broad shoulders squared. “Thirty points from Slytherin. You don’t want detention, do you?”

“That’s all you got? House points?” Snape taunted. “Loopy Lupin — acting tough in front of his girl.”

“Heard she’s fucking Potter,” the Slytherin said. He had blue eyes and dirty-blond hair.

“I heard differently,” the other nameless Slytherin blurted. He licked his lips in a snake-like motion. “Have you seen the way she and Black are around each other so much now? A Mudblood and a whore!”

She drew her wand.

“Aw, trembling itty, bitty baby!”

“That’s enough, Barty,” drawled Snape. Barty held his wand, toying with it before he lifted his wand, ready to cast a spell.

“Expelliarmus!” Remus shouted at him. Barty’s wand flew from his grasp but wasn’t lucky before the unnamed boy shouted, “Levicorpus!”

Instantly, Remus was grabbed by the ankle, hauled up into the air. Y/N saw him wince, all his belongings thudding to the grass.

“Aw, Rosier,” Snape said coolly. He took a few steps in a twitchy manner, “Stop playing with the poor mutt!”

But before the Slytherins had an opportunity, Y/N shot a spell at Remus, floating him down gently while Snape and Crabble directed a spell at her.

“Protego!” She cried as an invisible shield expanded between her, Remus and the Slytherins. The barrier was so powerful that they all stumbled as Remus went to retrieve his wand.

“Lupin can’t even protect himself! You had to let a girl do it too!” Crabble shouted.

“A Mudblood and a Half-breed! A match made in heaven.”

Angrily, Remus stood, a black ball of light shot out from the tip of his wand at the feet of the Slytherins. A small boom rumbled the ground, sparks of fire emitting but not enough to start a fire. They jumped back and Snape threw another spell.

“Ad sectis!”

Y/N barely had time to block it as a gust of wind knocked them back. It wasn’t a spell she knew of. Remus sent another hex at them but was blocked.

“Dangerous bloke, that Loopy Lupin,” Snape jeered, directing his words at Y/N while the Slytherins laughed. “You ought to be careful who you run around with. Let alone your boyfriend.”

“Shut up!” Remus shouted. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Where do you think he goes every month?” Snape taunted before backing up from them, rejoining the other Slytherins who left, all bellowing, “AHH-WOOOO!”

The reverberation from Remus’ spell drew the Marauder’s attention as they arrived. James saw them, marching up side by side with Emmeline and Sirius. He wore a large smile as he pressed several kisses to the side of Emmeline’s head. “Whiskers! Moony! Did you see that score!”

Remus and Y/N breathed in deeply, dazed and shocked. Remus stumbled over but she clutched his arm to keep him upright.

“Don’t listen to anything they said,” implored Remus.

“Wait… James,” Emmeline said, “I don’t think somethings right.”

“Moony, you’re awfully pale…”

“Shit! Are you guys bleeding?”

Y/N’s eye travelled to a large slash that travelled up Remus’ jaw and leg, blood seeping out at an alarming rate but the cut was shallow. Y/N in turn only then realized the damp liquid was now travelling down her arm. Her arm was also slashed, not deep, but the amount of blood was concerning.

All their voices began chatting over the other as the girls arrived by now; Dorcas rushed up to Y/N, prying Remus off of her as James and Sirius took Remus and sat them on a nearby bench.

“— happened?”

“— Y/N — Remus —”

“Lift your leg —”

“— get to the wing —”

“Merlin’s beard!” Lily shouted. “Give them some space!” Her eyes were on Remus but shifted to Y/N. Hesitantly, Lily walked up to her and bent down in front of her but still kept her distance.

“Okay, we need to get you patched up.” James stood, looping an arm around Remus and stood up.

Marlene rubbed her shoulder while Lily spoke, both James and Sirius doing the same for Remus. “Would you like us to come?”

She shook her head as the girls reluctantly left, but clutched Lily’s wrist as she stood. In a small voice, she asked, “Stay?”

Lily nodded her head and bid her goodbyes with the girls.

“Right, okay. I’ll see you later?” James said to Emmeline who pressed another quick peck to her cheek. Instead of the hospital wing, Remus asked, and was very adamant, about being brought to his dorm where they hauled in Y/N and Lily.

Sirius managed to get the bleeding to stop and worked on Remus before going to patch up Y/N who sat in James’ bed. The curtains were drawn just close enough for them not to be seen while Lily and James feverishly spoke to Remus.

“Ah!” She hissed as Sirius wrapped her arm carefully. Her free hand went to grip on his arm and he looked up at her apologetically.

“M’sorry — and we’re done.” Sirius tosses a quick smile, “You did amazing.” Sirius placed his material to the side and went to hold her hand gently. “What happened? Don’t you dare tell me a lie because this is serious.”

“I thought you were Sirius.” That joke never got old

Sirius broke out into a grin before it quickly vanished again. “Who did this?” He urged voice hardening yet kind. “Please, trust me.”

And she did.

Y/N reluctantly retold the story. Sirius went stiff. She grabbed his arm to bring his attention back to her. “Don’t do something that’ll make it worse. Don't you dare go looking for revenge. Promise me.”

He nodded his head but looked conflicted. At the same time, James pulled back the curtains; Y/N ripped away.

She looked around the room. “Where’s Lily?” “I told her to leave,” Remus cuts in. “I didn’t think that she would’ve liked to hear about the Snape part.”

Her eyes locked with James who wore the same expression as Sirius; he knew. And so she repeated herself, enunciating every word to the boys. “Don't. You. Dare go looking for revenge.”

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

ILLICITUS: CHAPTER 4

Prompt: Y/N is a respectful narcotics agent, she worked hard to have her work recognized in a prominently male work field. She‘s assigned to the most important case of her whole career, investigate and apprehend the biggest drug dealer of U.S.A, the only thing she didn’t count on, was for the bastard to be so damn charming.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Mob!Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, blackmail, cursing, conspiracy.

Tagging: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @nicolewoo , @bayley-no-friends , @lilred91 , @auawdo , @lustyromantic

Notes: Where is this going to?...To catch up with the previous chapters just hit my Masterlist! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check out my other stories on my Masterlist and my newest story as a fixed post. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

I walk from Matt’s office to my desk in utter shock.

*What the hell is going on?* Is all I can think about. What seemed to be the opportunity of a life time (career wise) is becoming a true nightmare. One I couldn’t wait to wake up.

“Hey, kid! My office, NOW!” Jeffrey screamed

*Oh God, that’s all I needed right now*

“Yes, Jeffrey?” I reluctantly asked

He urgently closed and locked his office’s door

“Why did you locked the door?” I ask suspicious

He ignored me and motions for me to sit down. He was so nervous that it would be irrelevant to try to do anything but obey him.

“Happy?” I said bitterly

“Did you knew I was being tracked?” He whispered

“What do you mean?”

“Someone wiretapped my house!”

“Wait, wait. What? Are you serious Jeffrey?”

“Do I look like I’m joking to you, kid?” He angrily whispered

“Why would someone wiretap you?”

“How the fuck would I know? The only thing I know is that it came from the Bureau”

“How do you know that?”

“Because we are the only ones who use that type of technology. You can’t find that shit on the streets! Which makes me think why the fuck is somebody from this building minding my business?”He whispered screamed again

“Ok, first of all, you need to calm the fuck down! You’re little temper is not helping me to think at all. And you’re practically demonstrating to the person who did that, that you know about the wire. So take a deep breath, old man” I whispered and in an attempt to calm himself down, Jeffrey lit up a cigarette.

“Alright, where did you found the wiretap?”

“On the cable modem. We leave it at the leaving room”

“Ok, have you had any problems with your internet signal?”

“No. Why?”

“Sometimes in order to place a wire inside the house, they cause an external problem in the signal so you’ll call the cable company and someone from investigation will get inside the house to put the wire, pretending to be someone from the cable company” I explained and he gave me a puzzled look

“What?” I ask

“How do you-“

“They did that in New York to catch the Mob bosses. What kind of cop are you Jeffrey that doesn’t know about the biggest take down of the five biggest mob families of New York?” I tease

“I’m getting old, that’s my excuse” He laughs

“So if nobody came to fix anything, they must have came in normally then....has anyone from the Bureau came to your house recently?”

“Oh fuck. Everybody, kid”

“Everybody?”

“Yeah, two weeks ago, remember?”

“Shit, your birthday party” I dropped my head in defeat

“We have at least 30 suspects” He mumble

Something tells me whoever is doing this is trying to put me against Jeffrey so I decided to come clean with him

“Jeff, someone requested for a tracker on Roman Reigns”

“Please tell me you’re shitting me” He murmured “Who signed?”

“Apparently me”

“WHAT?” He screamed

“Shhhhh, someone will hear you!”

“What do you mean with ‘apparently you’?”

“My DEA ID number was in the requested by space”

“And how could someone get that?” He asked

“According to Matt, anyone who’s smart enough. He said is not that difficult, you just need to know where to look” I sighed

“Do you know when it was installed?”

“Yesterday, as I was there. Whoever did it wanted to make sure the timing matched perfectly....My biggest fear is for him to find out before I can remov-“ I was cut off by my phone ringing with an unfamiliar number.

“Y/L/N” Was my greeting

“Good morning, agent Y/L/N.”

*Oh fuck no!* I thought

“Good morning Mr. Reigns, how can I help you?”

“Well, I would like for you to join me for lunch, I have a subject I would like to discuss with you”

“I’m afraid I can’t, sir. I have a lot of work and-“

“Oh I’m certain your work can wait agent Y/L/N. Since you have some explaining to do”

“I beg your pardon?” I was already preparing myself for what I knew it would be inevitable

Roman laughs amused “Y/N. Did you really thought you could put a tracker on me and I wouldn’t find out? C’mon baby, I thought you were smarter than that!”

“Mr. Reigns, it’s not what you think-“

“I’m not gonna discuss this through a phone call. Be here at noon!” His voice colder than a bucket of ice

He hung up, before I could even protest it.

“What is it?” Jeffrey asked

“He found out and wants me to explain it” I faintly whispered

“Fucking great!” He grunts “Are you gonna go? Do you want me to go with you?”

“I have to go, I got no choice. And no, if I show up there with you is just gonna make things worst”

He nods “What are you going to do, kid?”

“Pray Jeff...pray like a fucking nun!”

......................................................................

“There she is! The little sneaky spy” Roman smirked at me “Please, sit” He motions to his office chair. The same one I sat the first time I was there.

“So, are you going to explain to me about this little thing?” He dropped the tracker on my lap

“Mr. Reigns, I know how this looks to you but I can guarantee, I didn’t requested this”

“You didn’t? Then how come is your internal identification number upon the request by line?”

*Of course he knows about that too*

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, sir”

“So what? You’re not trying to pull up the old trick that somebody is setting you up, right Y/N?”

“I know is hard to believe and if was in your position I would have the same disbelief as you right now, but unfortunately that is the pathetic truth”

“Do you expect me to believe that, agent Y/L/N?” He chuckled

I stare at him, responding “No, Mr. Reigns. I expect you to be reasonable, I would be naïve to think that I could do such an immature move like putting a tracker on you and expect you not to find out about it. As a matter of fact I would be straight up dumb if I thought that, that would ever work. So no I didn’t do it, somebody else did and that’s the reality, now whether you want to believe it or not it’s not my problem” I was taking a big risk talking to him like that, but it was the only thing I could do right now, bluff.

Roman places both of his hands on my thighs, leaning down until our faces are uncomfortably close.

“You play a dangerous game, Y/N. A very, very dangerous game” He licks my bottom lip “But I like that, it turns me on” Roman dragged his nose upon my neck, breathing in my scent

“You turn me on” He whispers in my ear “The things I can see myself doing to you are pure torture because that’s all what they are: imagination, and I want them to become reality. I want to see you spreading your legs for me, I want you in all fours on top of my bed, I want your pretty lips around my cock, I want my face in between your thighs, I want to fuck you in whatever pace I feel like it, I want you to take every inch of my cock, I wanna feel you stretching around me baby, moaning for me to go deeper and harder”

This man...The things he says, his voice so deep, his cologne filling up my nostrils and intoxicating me on his scent, on him.

“Roman” I whispered, but he continued

“You know there’s a chemistry between us, I know you can feel it too babygirl, so why hide it? Why suppress it, when we can put this stamina to good use, baby? I want it, you want it, it’s a simple math”

“That wouldn’t be very professional, I’m afraid” I mumbled

He leans back to look me in the eyes

“The tracker isn’t very professional as well is it?”

“I already told you it wasn’t me”

“And do you think a judge in court will care? There’s your personal DEA number in there, a number that technically only you have access to it and as far as I’m concerned that little tracker would be considered an invasion of privacy, I could sue not only you but the DEA for that. I mean, I signed an official document allowing you to search for anything you want in my professional life, not on my personal one and that tracker was installed on one of my private cars. Do you see my point, Y/N?”

“You want me to fuck you in order for you to keep your mouth shut” I angrily murmured

“Well, biologically speaking I would be the one to fuck you not the other way around” He smirked

“You’re so low, Roman” I spat

“Roman? No more formalities I see, I like that” He smiled

“Not happening” I shake my head vigorously

“What? Do you find me so repugnant that the thought of sleeping with me is that horrifying?” He asked amused

“It’s not that-“

“Oh, so you do find me attractive?” He asks pretending to be surprised

“Modesty doesn’t suits you, Mr. Reigns” I mocked

“So what is it?”

“If I do it, it’s gonna be like signing my guilty sentence. I would be screwing you to somehow make me innocent” I answered

Roman pulled me up from the chair, hugged my waist resting his hands mere inches from my ass.

“No baby, screwing me would be the equivalent to not getting fired, not having a billionaire lawsuit filled against you and not spending the rest of your life in prison” He smiled, now caressing my butt cheeks

“So babygirl, what’s gonna be?”

TO BE CONTINUED

Please let me know your thoughts on this series so far, feedbacks are always nice and appreciated 🥰❤️

[wonniesmile]

❥ i-land (the entry test)

⤷ ellie takes on her very first mission in i-land, the entrance test.

⤷ word count: 1.4k+

⤷ warning: this is all purely fictional, none of the arguments and conflicts within this series is a true reflection of the trainees. everything you read is made up from my pea-sized brain.

“good lord, am i in a dream?” ellie was sure she was lost, i mean that’s what she thinks at least. who knew getting into the actual building was gonna require physical strength and mosquito repellent?

“i just gotta follow this path and i should be-“ she trips on a stick, luckily enough, she had time to catch herself, “anyways...that was embarrassing.”

“ellie hwang, our only girl trainee.” bang pd introduces ellie to the panel of producers, “a very determined trainee, may i add, i wanted to add her to the lineup solely because i know how much potential she has and just how much she can bring to the team.” the producers laugh as ellie takes a stumble, “she’s got the visuals- again...where are you finding these trainees? they are all so good looking!” rain mentions. bang pd chuckles, “i want you all to pay attention to her dancing and singing, she is very talented.”

“holy he-” ellie slaps her mouth to prevent cussing, “this is huge!” she says to herself, flailing her arms around, “now how do i-” suddenly, the enormous doors open, “oh my god.” she stands in awe, “this has to be a dream.”

through the screen, the panel of judges laugh at ellie’s cute commentary, “her personality would be great on variety shows.” zico adds.

ellie walks through the doors, “here goes nothing.” following the path, she rubs her arms to soothe herself, “relax babe, you can do this.”

she arrives at the last stretch of the path, the actual entrance. squinting her eyes, she notices that all the trainees’ eyes were on her. upon further observation, she realizes that she was the last one to arrive, ‘great’ she thinks to herself, ‘just what i needed.’

from the other side of the room, the applicants have the purest shocked expressions on their faces. “oh my god” one adds. “a girl trainee?!’ another one exclaims. the room was filled up with a sea of murmurs and flustered faces. “does anyone know who she is?” a trainee by the name of seon asks, “no, i’ve bever seen her around before.” another trainee by the name of k replies.

“they all look so shocked seeing her enter, this probably surprised them all.” rain comments and bang pd lets out a low chuckle, “yep, the last thing they were expecting was for a lady to show up.” they turn their attention back to the monitor, where ellie was just stepping onto the platform, “has she been a trainee at bighit?” zico asks, “no, ellie was a trainee from a different company a year ago before she left and signed with us, so no trainee really knows her.” the producers hum to show that they understand.

back in the room, ellie steps onto the white platform, confused. the white...thing...suddenly starts moving forward and she yelps, the applicants all giggle at her reaction. ellie sheepishly holds her hands together in front of her, feeling embarrassed.

she finally arrives at the main platform, getting a better look at the trainees. she knew none of them, of course, it was what she was expecting. hopefully they get along well.

she looks around, finding an open seat next to a young boy, not looking too far from her age, dressed in a pink shirt with some black slacks. the two make eye contact and he looks away. ellie cautiously walks over to the open seat and sits down. she introduces herself to the people around her, including the boy with a pink shirt, “hi, i’m ellie.” she holds her hands out, “i’m ni-ki.” he says accepting her handshake. the two went silent for a bit. there were still some eyes on ellie, but she ignored them. “so, did you three come together?” she asks ni-ki and the other two next to him, wanting to break the ice, “yeah! we did!” hanbin, who she had learned about after ni-ki introduced the other two applicants sitting next to him. she realized he had a cute accent, indicating he wasn’t originally from here. the four of them make small talk. ellie learns that hanbin was from vietnam, nicholas was from taiwan, and ni-ki was from japan. ellie mentions that she speaks japanese immediately after ni-ki announces that he was from japan and his eyes light up. they didn’t get too much time to converse in japanese before an alarm rang.

the lights suddenly glow red and the floor lights up. a voice suddenly appears out of nowhere, explaining the rules of the entrance test. the room was again filled with mumbles. ellie takes deep breaths to calm herself down, “you can do this.” she says to herself. she closes her eyes to find a quiet place in her head, free of distractions.

“we’ll now begin the vote.” choi seon has finished his performance, marking the very first entrance audition of the day. ellie looked around, reading people’s faces. some looked skeptical, some were blanking out, and others looked...confused? “if choi seon deserves to go into the i-land, then raise your hands.” ellie, yet again, looks around for some reassurance. she doesn’t want to raise her hand, but something was telling her to. noticing that others were raising their hands, she carefully raises hers as well.

some time went on and more applicants went on and off stage, some feeling defeated, while others looked accomplished. before she knew it, she was the last one left, ‘great job ellie, way to go third!’ she thinks to herself. listen, she WAS going to go third, but there were already so many people competing for it, so she ultimately decided not to.

“she’s going up.” seon announces. an uneasy tension filled the room...ellie felt it, but why was it there? rubbing her hands on her thighs, she walks up with confidence. she told herself she could do it and she WILL do it (and ace it, might i add).

stepping up onto the stage, ellie’s breathing becomes unsteady. “not right now, ellie.” she told herself. putting her hand on her chest, she takes three breaths while closing her eyes, finding that serene place. once she feels her body relax, she turns around to face the applicants. checking to see if her mic was working, she introduces herself.

“hello everyone! my name is ellie and i am 16 years old...mmh...my strengths are dancing, singing, and speaking new languages.” she takes a breath, “please enjoy my performance!” she bows and moves to her starting position.

“you said earlier that ellie has a very determined attitude?” rain asks bang pd, “yes, i would say she does. no matter what challenge she faces, she always finds a way to overcome it and keep going and i think that is a great trait for when performing on stage.” the producers nod their heads in approval.

ellie takes one last deep breath to ease her tensed muscles. quietly mumbling a, “fighting!” to herself, she waits as the first beats of itzy’s ‘dalla dalla’ starts playing.

(ellie’s performance- 0:00-1:40 & 2:12-the end)

the last ‘ding’ is heard through the speakers as ellie reaches her ending point. heavily panting, she waits a bit and smiles, she did it. moving back from her position, she bows and says thank you to the other trainees. she didn’t get to see everyone’s reactions...but boy were they amazed.

“that was such a stable performance! especially from an energy-depleting dance like the one she performed, not many can manage to sing that well!” rain compliments ellie’s performance. “i can see why you were so adamant in choosing her to be in i-lands lineup.” bang pd smiles to himself and nods his head in agreement.

“we’ll now begin the vote.” the voice through the speaker says, ellie feels her body tense, again. she looks off into the audience, not really sure what to expect, “if ellie deserves to go into the i-land, then raise your hands.” she squints her eyes, trying to get a better look at the trainees’ faces. her face goes in shock as she sees a majority of them raise their hands for her. she smiles, “the participant ellie...gets into the i-land.” the voice announces. she smiles even wider and claps. bowing down, she yells a thank you to the applicants and then shoots back up with a somehow even bigger smile on her face.

“adorable.” a trainee mentions.

she walks back excitedly to her seat and bites her lip to prevent any more smiling, “see ellie,” she starts to herself, “that wasn’t so bad.” ellie couldn’t help the grin tattooed on her face, this was going to be a fun ride.