#I’d love to answer any and all questions about this au!! so everyone feel free to ask! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aureatchi · 1 year ago

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˚୨୧ ｡ ˚ IT WAS A NIGHT TO REMEMBER . — osamu dazai

⟢ SYNOPSIS. after a long week of work, you and your best friend retreat to a bar to distract yourself from your responsibilities. however, you find it unfulfilling and decide you need to just go home. as you head out the door, you bump into someone more than familiar.

a/n. it’s the way i immediately thought of him when i first heard this song. <3

info. fem!reader. exes to lovers!au. we have the full recipe…fluff; light angst; gets really sugg. mentions of drinking; scars. your best friend hates dazai. hc dazai doesn’t bandage his tummy. (ᗒᗜᗕ) ﾉ wc. 3.6k

“It’s just a lot.”

You just finished the final shift of your job for the week, and you were more than exhausted and burnt out. You had called your best friend immediately after to get some comfort, and despite how busy she was, she agreed to meet you for some drinks and listen to you rant.

“My coworker’s getting on my last nerve,” you continued venting. You had already told her about select crappy people you had to interact with during the day and then your boss, who regarded you with no empathy whatsoever. “Today’s already been bad enough, and then she decides to just pile more stress on me.”

You swished the ice around your emptied glass, creating clanking sounds while coating the cup in water.

“Maybe you should just quit,” your friend replied, taking a sip out of her glass. “I would’ve been long gone if I had to deal with annoying people all around, nine to five.”

She looked up at you. “Besides, you’re well off anyway. I don’t see why you’re working. Are you…trying to distract yourself?”

You sighed. She knew you too well.

“Love, don’t tell me you’re still hung up over—“

“It’s not what you think,” you cut her off, yet you avoided eye contact. It was easier to lie that way. “I just feel I’d have too much free time on my hands. I’m not sure what I’d do with it.”

You let out a dry chuckle. That wasn’t wholly false in itself, either. At your age, everyone had their own things going on—your best friend being an example. Therefore, you couldn’t find much time to go out with any of your friends, and you weren’t interested in meeting new people either.

You could blame your job. Perhaps the ones you meet every day put a sour taste on your tongue, making you lose any desire to interact with strangers. You could blame your exhaustion. Or…

“Honestly, I think that calls for someone new in your life,” your friend replied. “That’ll surely cure your boredom.”

“No thanks. I don’t feel like dating anyone right now.”

“I’m just kidding,” she laughed. “But it’d help you feel less lonely, no?”

“…you didn’t believe my answer to your earlier question, huh?”

“No. Of course not.”

It had been over five months since you broke up with your boyfriend. You tried seeing people after that, but in truth, you were only using them to try to move on.

Once you realized that it wasn’t working and it wasn’t fair for others to play with feelings, you decided to take on a new job on the other side of the city so you’d still get out of your house and have a change of scene.

“…But you know what? Screw him. I will keep saying again and again, I hate that man. Suicidal maniac. I know it’s hard, but you’re too hot to keep dwelling on this. You need to learn to move o—”

Your friend’s phone suddenly buzzed, interrupting her little lecture.

She picked it up, and you waited for her to finish speaking.

“I’m sorry, I think I got to go. I left my boyfriend with my cat, and he just told me he lost her already…” she shook her head. “Have you gotten out everything you wanted to say?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied. “I think I’ll go home soon, too. Not really feeling it.”

She stood up, handing you a bill with a smile. “Drinks on me tonight. Don’t complain—I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer. And we didn’t order much anyway.”

“That’s okay; I appreciate you coming to listen to me anyway,” you replied.

“The offer is still open, by the way! If you want to find someone, I’ll schedule a date by this weekend.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Thanks.”

…

You only had one more drink before you decided to leave, still mostly sober—you figured it’d just be best if you’d take care of yourself at home.

Another thing your job was also distracting you from was witnessing all the relationships around you. Your friend had to go home for her boyfriend. You noticed a few couples at the bar you were at. You’d probably see more when you walked outside.

Not that you minded, is what you tried to tell yourself every single time. You didn’t have to be with someone. It’s okay to have a break.

But was it okay to still have a particular person at the back of your head all the time?

You stood up, leaving the bill and tip for your bartender before you walked toward the door. Opening it caused the bell attached to it to jingle. You were greeted by a cool, night breeze—and someone’s torso.

“O-Oh, sorry,” you replied, too tired to even catch the face of the person you bumped into.

But you had no choice when the man didn’t move out of the doorframe to walk in or allow you to pass.

So, when you met the almost-surprised, caramel-kissed eyes on a face framed with dark brown bangs and wavy hair, you felt your heart plunge into your stomach.

You whispered his name—almost scared to say it, the syllables feeling foreign from not having spoken it aloud for months.

“…Osamu.”

He was halfway through saying your name when you dashed for the exit, shoving him aside and speed-walking out.

“Wait! Bel—“ he caught himself and shouted your name once more.

You started walking down the parking lot, unsure of where you were trying to go, except away—away from Dazai. You had forgotten this bar was in the heart of the city. You didn’t know Dazai came to this one, but you knew his work was somewhere close.

“Hey!” you felt a breeze behind your back, and then a hand gently land on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“What…why are you following me?”

You turned around, getting your second full view of your ex for the night.

His hair was a bit longer. He still had those bandages on his neck—did he bother to change them out recently? His scent was as still as you remembered—grassy and toasty, a resemblance to green tea.

“I’m not sure why I’d leave a girl I know to walk alone at night,” he shrugged. “It’s dangerous!”

You continued walking, not responding to his reply.

“Where are we going?”

“Who’s we?”

“Aw, that was really rude.”

You ignored Dazai, making sure your stroll stayed a few feet in front of him.

You then entered a park, him trailing behind you.

“Why were you at the bar alone?”

“That’s none of your business.” You walked down the path, trees casting dark shadows onto the grass under the moon’s light.

“…And I wasn’t alone the entire time. I was with a friend, but she left to attend something.”

Dazai nodded, trying to catch up to your face. You immediately gave him more than enough space when he reached you, not wanting any invasion of your personal space.

“But you usually don’t drink unless you’re either celebrating or stressed,” he said. “And from what I’ve seen, it looks like the latter.”

You stopped again. “Again, it’s none of your business. Maybe you should focus on yours. You go and drink tons when you’re stressed, too.”

“Hey, I’ve actually gotten better at that…”

“You still ended up at a bar midweek.”

“But I didn’t even go in, no? I’m with you at a park right now.”

You were silent once again. But now you couldn’t complain that he was following you.

Why do I care if he drinks or not?

No. It’s normal. You’d care for the well-being of anyone you know.

You approached a set of swings in the center of the park. It had been ages since you’d been on one, swinging back and forth in carefree.

“Want me to push you?” you heard Dazai over your shoulder when you examined the equipment.

“Heck no,” you responded.

“Why not? It’d be fun!” He moved closer.

“No! I’m not sure if it’d even carry me,” you laughed. “It’s for kids.”

“You can try it. Just sit. And I’ll catch you if it breaks—“

“Shut up. I can catch myself.” You lowered yourself onto the seat, seeing that the metal poles did hold. You swung yourself a bit to test if it’d keep up your weight.

“It works.”

“Great! Can I push you now?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I won’t kill you, bel—I won’t! I promise.” Dazai childishly held out a pinkie toward you.

You sighed. “Fine. Just please don’t push me too high.” You clasped your pinkie around his.

“I got you!” You felt palms on your back, and then a light push that moved you forward, and then gravity pulled you back toward him.

Everything pulls me back to him—my mind and the universe both.

You were suddenly pushed higher, catching you off guard. You felt yourself fly multiple feet off of the ground, and you clutched the metal in panic.

“H-Help—Osamu!”

“You’re fine. You won’t fall,” Dazai chuckled. He pushed you again, sending you even higher than the previous time. You wanted to scream, but it came out more as a laugh.

“Is the thrill fun?” he asked while you were in the air, noticing your smile.

“Yeah, it is—HEY!”

Dazai had pushed you hard, sending you swinging all around the equipment, in a complete three-sixty.

“Osamu!” you cried, the momentum spinning you around once more. You couldn’t stop it—it was too fast.

You were clutched from behind, arms tightly wrapped around your torso to stop the swing. You could hear the sound of Dazai being dragged through the rocks below, but he was able to ground the both of you before you went flying again.

And you felt warm. Despite the evening’s cool air, you felt like you were encompassed in a fireplace’s heat on a winter day.

“Got you.”

You let out a giant exhale of relief. And then, you turned around in anger.

“I told you not to push me that high!”

“But I didn’t kill you, did I? You stayed on the swing the entire time! You were safe! Plus, I think you enjoyed it.”

You stood up, causing Dazai to let go of his arms. “I’m dizzy now.”

“Do you need water? We can buy some. And did you drive here?”

“No, I took a taxi.”

“Let me drive you home then,” he said.

“I think I’m fin—“

“Please,” he cut you off almost urgently, but then he caught his tone and reverted.

“I mean, many kidnappers disguise themselves as taxi drivers. Especially at night.”

“You’re still so cynical,” you replied. “Stop being so protective. It’s not like we’re…nevermind, sorry.”

You didn’t dare look at Dazai’s expression.

…

You each got a yogurt drink, and it helped soothe your dizziness immediately.

You walked by Dazai silently, but compared to earlier in the night, you were no longer repulsed to standing by him.

He opened his car door for you before getting in his seat on the other side.

“What have you been up to these past months?”

You asked as he found his keys, turning them into gear.

“A case. It’s something huge going on.”

Dazai’s work accounted for part of your breaking up with him. He was too secretive—despite you knew that he trusted you so much that he explained to you exactly what his job consisted of, and he only left details out to protect you from getting involved, you couldn’t handle it.

Maybe you were selfish for that. But you needed to know what your boyfriend was up to—if he was safe. Perhaps that was another reason why. You would never let him go if you knew of the exact danger he was volunteering himself in.

“I see. Sleeping okay?”

“If I do, sure.” He was suddenly reaching over your body, grabbing your seatbelt.

Your heartbeat fastened as Dazai hovered over you, pausing to look at anticipating eyes and a risky glance at slightly parted lips.

He sighed before fastening the buckle and moving away, acting like nothing happened.

…

You two drove in silence, you gazing out of the car window to admire how the city looked in the absence of the sun.

A song was suddenly put on. You looked at Dazai.

“Do you still like this song?”

“Yeah,” you replied. He had put on your favorite song, indeed.

You silently thanked him for it. The awkward tension to speak to one another had vanished; you could indulge yourself in music.

Until it ended, of course, but by then, you could see you were almost home.

“Osamu.”

“Yes?”

“This was a really bad idea. I hope I never see you again after this.”

“Probably, but maybe I wanted it to happen. Maybe I thought about you so much that I had to seize this opportunity.”

“What?”

“What if I hope to see you again after this?”

“You can go flirt with any other girl for entertainment.” He did a lot of that, too. Even if it was Dazai’s most efficient tactic for getting information, he had also said he simply couldn’t help it sometimes.

“I don’t find that interesting anymore.”

You looked at his distant, faint reflection through your window.

“…you think about me?”

You were answered with a nod.

Dazai turned, pulling you into your driveway.

“I’ll continue to even more after tonight,” he said. “Whether we see each other again or not. It plagues my mind every day. What I could’ve done better—how much you deserve that I failed to reach.”

He parked. “Of course, I’ve tried to move on. It’s the most fair thing to do for you. But if someone were to ask me, bella, saying that I don’t still love you would be a lie.”

“You’re selfish,” you commented.

“I know. I’m very.”

You opened the door, stepping out of the car.

“Thank you for driving me,” you said.

You walked towards your front door and then looked back at Dazai, who was standing by his side of the car.

You contemplated for a second.

“D-do you have something to do for the rest of the night?” you carefully asked.

“No.”

“Can you stay? Just for a bit. We can talk about things. And hopefully, you get some answers that will help you stop occupying your mind of me.”

You said that as if you were trying to convince yourself, rather Dazai.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You pushed open the door.

Dazai followed you as you walked through the house—through the hallway and to the kitchen.

“Do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” he replied.

“Alright. Uh…feel free to make yourself at home. I’m going to change, I’ll be right back.”

…

You walked into your room, first washing your face in the bathroom. You stared at your face through the window, noticing how pigmented your cheeks were.

Why did I do this?

You were in the middle of changing your pajamas when Dazai knocked on your door.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh—“ you hastily buttoned two thirds of your shirt before, “Yeah.”

A smell of your favorite scent immediately flowed into the room as Dazai came in. It was of the candles you had around your house.

“You lit my candles?”

“Yeah. I got curious because the flavors looked nice. I like them. The scent matches you perfectly.”

“Oh…thanks,” you mumbled. You didn’t know how else to respond.

Dazai glanced around your room. Some things changed—you had moved some things around, redone the decor on your nightstands, changed your bed sheets…what he didn’t know was that you actually donated them after the break-up so you would never see them again.

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah. Do you still happen to have bandages?”

“Yes.” You had Dazai sit on the bed while you searched your closet for the box of bandages you would keep for whenever he came over. Unlike your sheets, you had kept them for your emergency first aid.

Or in case he happened to be in an emergency.

“What do you think you could’ve done better?”

There was a silence right after. You had hit Dazai with a hard question first.

“I’d stop disappearing so much without warning. I only realized how much I took that for granted when we stopped seeing each other. I would try to communicate better…” He looked down. “I’m terrible at it, I know, but I would try harder.”

“Why me? You could move on and find some other girl to treat right the first time.” You found the box, pulling it out.

“Because I would feel like a loser,” he added your name to the end of the sentence. “I was a total jerk to someone who loved me, and then I decide to switch it up for someone new and pretend to start on a clean slate? No, bella—I’m cursed with not forgetting and forgiving myself of the past. It feels cowardly.”

“Osamu, stop. You hurt me, yes, but you weren’t the only one in the wrong.

“I-I’m sorry.” You hadn’t apologized to him yet, through months.

You noticed his eyes almost widen, surprised.

“And I also forgive you. It took awhile, but I’m forgiving you of the mistakes that hurt me,” you continued. “And I’m apologizing to you too. So please forgive yourself. You don’t need to feel guilt.

“It’s only fair to you as well to move on.”

“Why, bella? How is it fair? How is it fair when the only person I want to see is you?”

“Osamu.”

You were right in front of him, the closest you’d been to him that night, discarding how he had tightly hugged you on the swing earlier. You were drowned in emotion that surrounded his desperate pleas.

“Can you please bandage me?”

“Why?”

“I miss your touches.”

You regret asking. He had no shame in expressing his thoughts, no matter what you two were going through. You regret asking, yet…

“Your coat.”

You climbed behind and rid Dazai of the top portion of his clothes—his vest and dress shirt. Then, you started unwinding the bandages on his arms, chest, and neck.

Gently, your fingers grazed the scars that hid underneath his attire, and his mind. Months ago, you had learned what every single mark came from after knowing where each one was—it was one detail Dazai fully opened to you about.

You were thankful you couldn’t see scars of the heart.

He would have thrice as many. Perhaps one of them would include you.

You rewrapped Dazai, leaving only his stomach unbandaged. You moved to do his neck when he paused you with his eyes, mere inches away from his face.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

You wish he weren’t so pretty. You would’ve been able to rationalize yourself quickly—you would’ve been able to give him a final answer without hesitating. But he ended up being the face of your dreams and the depth of your heart.

“I tell myself it’s fair,” you whispered. His nose was almost touching yours. “I tell myself it’s better that we’re done. But my heart isn’t so sure. It asks the same—how is it fair? To keep myself longing?”

Your arms were around Dazai’s neck with the bandage, yet you did not move to finish.

His gaze moved to your lips. A hand moved to your hair.

“Is it fair? If it truly is, push me away, bella.”

He didn’t force himself any closer, leaving you with the choice despite his yearning appearance. You could feel the warmth of his body on yours and the soft air of his breaths on your cheeks.

“Yes. It’s fair, Osamu.” You came to your conclusion.

Yet, you dropped the bandages, cupped his face towards you, and pressed your lips on his.

“But I’m selfish too.”

You moved your hands to waft through brunette locks as Dazai pulled you onto his lap. He held you tightly—desperate at the acceptance of your invitation.

Closer, along with the fresh scent of green tea, there was a note of sweetness as intoxicating as chocolate. You came to know this pleasant surprise every time you were pressed up against him, tucked well into his embrace.

A hand moved down your waist, tracing your curves. Meanwhile, his kisses became sloppier, changing course to your jaw.

“Bella,” he whispered.

“Osamu?”

“Too much? Just let me know.”

“Don’t stop.”

He planted his lips on your neck, leaving a mark when he moved to the next area.

“I don’t want to lose you again. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, pulling him down over you.

“Everything about you,” Dazai continued. “It’s enchanting. How you smile when you’re flustered—like right now, and how you react when I touch you here…”

His hand found its way under your shirt, and you started laughing. He knew how and where to draw every specific reaction out of you, including where you were most ticklish.

“Osamu! Stop, hah-!”

You let him stay hovered over you and left his curious hands to wander your skin. Dazai looked free of emotional distress for once—being able to calm just by admiring you. It was like medicine.

“Do you still keep a spare pajama set?” he asked.

“Yes. However, the guest room is being renovated.”

“It’s fine. A couch was a luxury for me at one point.”

“Or you…could stay here. And you can have your favorite side, the side closer to the window.”

“Because I always see how the sun’s rays lay on your skin when I wake up,” he smiled. “And how spellbound your eyes make me when you open them and the light hits it.”

“You remember so much.”

“I told you how much I think about you, belladonna. I remember every night that I’m with you.”

dazai listens to music w/ u if u rb. reblogs are cherished; they support me as a creator. <3

#₊ ⊹˚✉︎𑁤 with love; reverie #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #dazai fluff #dazai x y/n #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #bsd x you #bsd oneshot #dazai headcanons #bsd scenarios

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skyenish · 2 years ago

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I love the personality swap au you made! If you’re open to sharing I’d like to hear what it’s like in Pomefiore. No pressure though.

Thanks for asking! I apologize for taking so long, but here’s my answer.

I know it looks kind of rough but I barely time to draw. Maybe I’ll come back later and clean it up/color it in when I don’t have like 12 tests waiting for me the coming week.

I have to admit that Pomefiore is a bit of an enigma for me, since I’m pretty sure we don’t know much from Rook’s backstory besides ‘has siblings’ and ‘is rich’. Honestly, Rook in general is an enigma to me. So while I haven’t figured out all the finer details, I do have the outlines of what Pomefiore’s personalities will be.

(In this AU the Housewardens and Vice Housewardens switched personalities)

Vil is an eccentric, sociable fellow. He’s very honest and blunt, and very expressive with his emotions, but his dormmates know he generally means well. He’s very flamboyant and extra, the definition of a theatre kid, and sometimes calls people ‘Kartoffel’ (German for potato). He’s still an actor, but he doesn’t mind getting typecast as a villain, be thinks it’s an opportunity for him to explore another part of his own beauty. Vil is the Housewarden of Pomefiore, and he brought a lot of freedom to the dorm. He thinks that people should be free to express their beauty however they want, though he does personally prefer some types of beauty over others. Vil’s a very smart guy, he’s very perceptive and picks up on almost anything, which can make him a little scary at times.

Rook is now more focused on maintaining his carefully crafted beauty to ensure he's as sharp as ever. He can’t afford to slack off as a hunter after all. Rook thinks there’s beauty in everything, but to get to that beauty one must work hard, thus he’s hard on people- he wants everyone to become their most beautiful self, but they’ll have to grind for it. He’s confident and values hard work above all. Rook is now more of a perfectionist. He is calm and collected, almost never loses his cool, and very strict. He and Trey are both in the science club, which is now much more serious and no longer nicknamed ‘the everything club’. The club is moreso aimed at really studious students, who are generally intelligent and hard working, or have an interest in science. Rook still respects his housewarden a lot, and puts a lot of trust in him, even though he acknowledges that Vil can be a strange one.

Now, as for redesigns. Since Pomefiore uses fashion and looks as a way of self expression, I had to change some things about their designs to reflect their new personalities, though I didn’t change much. Rook wears his hair in a neat bun, not a hair is out of place- he can’t have hair in his face when he’s hunting after all. Vil however wears his hair much looser, and occasionally wears big, expressive hats if he feels like it. As you can see, not a lot has changed.

There you go anon! I hope that answered your question. If you have any questions, just ask! I’d be happy to answer them.

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supersaiyanjedi14 · 9 months ago

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SABEZRA DAY 2024

Prompt: Speaking Love Language/Free

@sabezraweek

*My AU; Ezra looks to communicate his feelings in a way Sabine will instantly understand. If only his sources of guidance weren’t butting heads.*

“This right?”

“Almost. It needs a bit more of a curve around…here.”

“That’s exactly where you pointed last time.”

“And it’s not right yet.”

“Why didn’t you say so before?”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“I’m seriously starting to wonder if I do!”

Throwing up his hands, Ezra marched away from the work bench, resisting the urge to smack the other man in the mouth. He had been working on this for the past week, every second of his precious little spare time dedicated to making it perfect. When preparing a gift for the woman you love, you naturally feel compelled to make sure it is just that. On paper, consulting someone familiar with the designs you are tying to replicate would be an ideal situation.

In practice, the fact that the only one available is the brother of the object of your affection, a brother who seems to relish in being as annoying as possible, makes the situation a bit more complicated.

Tristan laughed at Ezra’s dramatic distress. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s a lot closer than it was when you started.”

“Yeah?” Ezra replied sharply, “Well maybe, next time, get the big details right on correction #1, not #17.”

“I didn’t correct it that many times.” Tristan protested.

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Wanna bet? I’ve been keeping track.”

“What’s all the commotion?”

Turning to the new voice, Ezra saw three men walking into the rec room. One of them, garbed in a pilot’s fighter jacket, was only familiar to Ezra by reputation. The other two, a second Mandalorian in blue armor and an officer with a dashing cape across his shoulders, were far better known.

“Hey, Lando, Rau.” Ezra greeted his friends. He turned to the other two. “Lt. Janson, right?”

“That’s me, sir.” The pilot responded with a light salute.

“At ease, at ease.” He turned back to Lando. “Not much. Tristan’s just being difficult.”

“For the love of-“

“Relax, Tristan,” Fenn Rau reprimanded the younger Mandalorian. “You should know better than to be baited by his teasing by now.” Rau turned to the bench. “Ah,” he realized, “still working on this little pet project for Sabine?”

“If I meet Master Wren’s exceptional standards,” Ezra flamboyantly gestured to a pouting Tristan, “it should be done soon.” He held up his work for the others to see. “What do you guys think?” he asked.

Lando nodded. “Not bad. Though I think working on it out here in the open might be risky. In my experience, the best gifts come with an element of surprise.”

Rau groaned. “Really, Calrissian?”

“Just giving him some pointers.”

Janson snorted loudly. “From you? That’s rich.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Tristan shot back. “Wasn’t it that Mirialan on Onderon that you scared off by eight parsecs?”

Janson’s face went red. “it was one time, Wren, one-“

“Okay, enough.” Ezra cut in before an argument about Wes Janson’s love life could break out. “And to answer your question, Lando, don’t worry. Everyone in this room is sworn to secrecy.” He turned to the far side to the man in commando fatigues watching a holodrama. “Isn’t that right, Dameron?”

Dameron paused his show and raised a hand. “Silent as the grave, Commander!”

Sadly, Ezra’s attempt to avert conflagration were futile. Janson regained a measure of his flair and turned to the commando. “Oh,” he said in a slow, sarcastic tone. “So he rejects our sage advise, but turns to you?”

Dameron got up at the challenge. “He doesn’t ask anything. If he did, though, I’d happily offer him tips.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert on romance?”

“Well, considering I’m the only one in this room who’s married, yeah, I’d say I am.”

“So what? I’d actually be able to-“

“He didn’t want Calrissian’s schmoozing tips,” Rau cut in, “why would he want yours?”

“Schmoozing?” Lando blurted out in mild offense. “I’ll have you know-“

“Oh, give it a rest.”

“I don’t see you adding anything, Wren.”

“Maybe because I don’t have anything to compensate for.”

“Why you little-!”

Whatever the conversation had turned to was thankfully muffled once Ezra slid the door to the rec room shut. He considered putting the project on himself for a little extra filtering.

“Romantic advise isn’t that helpful tonight, is it?”

Turning around with a jolt, Ezra instinctively hid his gift behind his back, but relaxed when he saw the Twi’lek standing there. He let out an exasperated breath. “You have no idea.”

“You’d be surprised.” Hera grinned. She turned to look at what Ezra was holding. “So that’s what you’ve been slipping out to work on.”

Ezra nodded and looked down at it. “I wanted to do something up her own alley, you know? Show her how I feel in a way she can understand the best.”

Hera looked at the gift. “I think it’s beautiful.” She smiled warmly. “Sabine’s going to love it.”

“You sure?”

Hera shook her head and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Positive. Besides,” she murmured as she walked off, “it’s not like she can’t already read you like a datapad.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll see.”

Ezra just shrugged.

A few hours later, there was a knock on the door to Sabine’s cabin. Setting her airbrush down, she walked over to answer. She was greeted by the sight of her smiling boyfriend, who was holding a hastily wrapped mass in his hands.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she answered brightly. She gestured to the package. “What’s that?”

“Let me in and I’ll show you.”

“Hmmm,” Sabine mused, “I don’t know. Strange men coming to my door bearing unexpected gifts. I think my mother warned me about such things.”

Ezra’s face warmed a bit. “Strange? Lady Wren, I must protest.”

Sabine let out a laugh. “Come on, get in here.”

Regaining his composure, Ezra smiled and strode into Sabine’s quarters, the door closing behind him. The two sat on her bunk and Ezra passed her the present.

“Go on,” he said. “Open it.”

Normal, Sabine would have been happy to play hard to get. Even all these years later, that light teasing they engaged in hadn’t faded away. Experience often allowed one to see things others would not be able to perceive so easily, and the two of them had a knack for wrapping their earnest remarks in layers of sass, a little puzzle to piece through. Now though, her curiosity got the better of her. She quickly tore the flimsi off in one swipe.

Her eyes widened at the sight before her. It was a shoretrooper helmet, but decidedly non-regulation. The tan helm was now a vivid magenta, with blue markings along the jowels and orange stripes across the nose. The forehead was adorned with a pair of purple arches, with a bright green spot right in the middle. It took only a few seconds for her to recognize the markings. The Nite-Owl, just as what her own helmet bore. And looking closer at the blue markings, she saw them clearly. The jaig eyes, the mark of honor for courage. A little stylized and not in the traditional place, but jaig eyes all the same.

“Wow,” she said in genuine wonder. Ezra wasn’t exactly the artist type, yet she could see dedication a parsec away. He had clearly gone the extra mile to do something in her own style. Not quite as complex as her own work, but the care he had placed into this was undeniable. “This is…Ezra this is amazing!”

“Thanks,” he said as he placed a hand behind his head in a bashful look. “The helmet came from that mission to Valo a couple months back. I asked Tristan about how to do the symbols right, though the hard part was finding the right shades of paint.”

Sabine’s eyes snapped back to the helmet at that last word. Paint. Color. Ezra wouldn’t have chosen just anything. Taking a careful look at the gift, she began to unpack what she saw.

In Mandalorian tradition, certain colors held significant meaning. Many warriors were known to paint their armor with specific colors to represent their chosen undertakings and causes. While Sabine had never been picky enough to stick to one hue for a mission, she knew the significance of these shades by heart. She checked off what she saw.

Blue jaig eyes on the sides. A green center to the Nite Owl. The orange nose stripes. The pink and purple base.

Blue, for reliability. Someone who you could always count on come hell or high water.

Green, for duty. For a person driven to uphold whatever they believed in and see it through to the end.

Orange, for a lust for life. Someone who treasured every day, every experience, and everyone they shared it with.

Purple and pink had no explicit meaning to Mandalorians. But they didn’t need one. Those colors spoke of something more specific. Someone more specific. Someone who considered those colors her personal favorites. Someone who exemplified all the other colors on the helmet, yet was something all her own. Someone the creator of this masterpiece loved above all else.

Ezra had been babbling on about his ongoing work for the past minute, but the deep kiss she quickly pulled him into shut him up. No other words were needed. He could tell exactly what she was thinking.

#star wars #sabezra #ezra bridger #sabine wren #sabezraweek #sabezraday2024 #happy valentine's day

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littlerequiem · 4 months ago

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I binge-read we all bleed red until 5 am this morning and I genuinely have not been so captivated by a fic to sacrifice sleep over it in years, so thank you! I'm absolutely enamored by the OC as well as Levi. Their banter is so well-written, and I love the spunk and grit that OC has. I always love a resilient female lead, and given the time period her defiance is even more admirable

So much love and research has been put into writing this fic and I can tell just from reading it. The plot goes crazy too. There are still so many mysteries—how Levi turned into a vampire, where tf Erwin and Miche are, what tf is up with Zachary's obsession to marry into the Clary household despite the fact that they're broke… I find Zachary to be one of the most suspicious people, even though it might also just be a red herring

I also can’t emphasize how obsessed I am with OC and Levi’s relationship. I’m sorry but the progression was insanely written—from them just being mildly fascinated with each other to full-blown I want you and need you but we fucking can’t—HOLY SHIT. I find their dynamic so heart-aching thinking about it in the long run as well. If OC never turns into a vampire, she’ll be not more than half a second in Levi’s timeline :( If I were immortal I’d refuse to get attached to anyone again so I 100% understood Levi’s hesitation to become fond of OC. And ALSO just the way Levi treats OC oh GOD. I didn’t realize how feral I’d go for a bodyguard au but here I am going absolutely feral LOL. One line that BURNS into my mind—when Levi asks “Are you decent?” before walking into the room and helping her with her dress LIKE GOD HE HAS MANNERS THAT’S SEXY. I also didn’t realize how hot the feeding scenes would be… The first time he feeds from her and she sees her reflection in the mirror but not him!! Such an amazing (and hot) detail. I’m TERRIFIED of vampires and blood normally but this fic is single-handedly making me thirst for them too LOL

One thing I’m a little curious about, which you don’t have to answer if it’s not pertinent to the plot, is the main characters’ ages. I know it was mentioned that Zachary’s in his 50s but I imagine Levi might be technically just as old…? Unless he was turned recently; that would change things. There are still moments when OC calls him an old man so I imagine she’s on the younger side (since they also marry off women so young during those times). I’ve been imaging her as someone in her early 20s (I hope I’m not too far off), and I haven’t really dared to imagine an age for Levi bc I could be hundreds of years off

Anyways! Sorry this turned out so long. I can go on and on about every line I adored and every character I would LOVE to meet irl but then you’d be sitting here all day reading so! Thank you for writing this absolute gem of a fic FOR FREE might I add??? And I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!

P.S. I’ve never been so grateful to have taken 4 years of French class LMAO

I can't even begin to tell you what your message has done to me. I feel like I'm on cloud nine so excuse my incoherent answer lmao.

Thank YOU for taking the time and writing such a thoughtful message! Seriously. I'm so glad you've enjoyed the world I've built, that you've discovered new tropes to enjoy, and that you like the characters and their dynamic - especially Levi & the OC. You know, when I started writing this fic, I had no idea if any of it would resonate with anyone, so that it's touched even ONE person makes me just......... so so so happy.

To answer your question, the ages are purposefully vague. Originally, I did have a specific age in mind for Levi, but I know age gaps between immortal creatures & humans aren't everyone's cup of tea, so I scrapped it. With the way the story is going to unfold, Levi could be anywhere between 35 to a 100 years old, but I leave that decision up to the reader. As for the OC, I envisioned her to be between 25 to 29, since she's stated to be older than the average woman that married (24 at the time, sorry that the source is in French) BUT, having said that, I also leave this to reader preference. I hope this somewhat answered your question :D

All this to say - THANK YOU for coming into my inbox and showering me with all these words. I hope you have a superb start of the week, and just know you just injected me with a boost of serotonin that's making me want to write right now <3

#we all bleed red #we all bleed red spoilers #mail for flo.#Anonymous

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creepedverse · 6 months ago

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How do you guys feel about fan works outside of canon of the au? (Character interactions with ocs) Writen fics and fanart comics :0]?

Tomb - I'm fine with it as long as it's not disrespectful, NSFW, or weird. I do want people to let me know beforehand though if its character interactions but Im chill with most things. And I don't feel comfortable with anything romantic involving Tobin that isnt with Tali. At all. Other than that, I'm perfectly fine with fanart, headcanons (if appropriate), AUs, whatever

Clocky - Character interactions are a no unless Im involved in the conversations about it. Anything romantic involving Tali is an absolute no unless it's with Tobin. NSFW is always a hard no.

Dia - I love seeing fanart and stuff, if y’all are worried abt mischaracterizing characters just send an ask in here or you can dm (me at least) from my blog tagged in pin. I’m ok w character interactions so long as we chat abt it before hand! Anything romantic would have to be a no but I’m ok w making friends into sibling sort of interactions. Obviously any nsfw is off limits as per the pinned post💕

Sucker/Bonnie- NO NSFW no romance unless w/ ruth. bonnie is a flexible character so fanfics/fanart/interactions/etc are fine all the way >.o i mischaracterize my own oc so im not that worried... questions appreciated but surprises are ok too!

for deepsix/tommie: terms of usage covers anything i wouldn't be okay with 👍

jess/scout: im fine w anything as long as its not nsfw or romantic!!

Yves/Blythe - NO NSFW NO ROMANCE but besides that stuff, fanart/fanfics/oc interactions are all welcomed!!! I absolutely adore fanart and I get so excited seeing it!! And if you think your oc would get along with Blythe, I’d love to see them interact!! I’m open to answer any questions about Blythe if you want to write about her!! :D

Nico/...Nico - i love love love seeing fanworks!! you're all enormously talented, and i don't mind anyone involving nico in anything! No NSFW ground rules are the same as for everyone else, however with Nico i want to add some additional boundaries that include no whitewashing, no major mischaracterization, and feel free to ask about anything you're unsure of!

Daydream/Shannon - No Nsfw, romance is on thin ice. Other than that Im really excited about possible Art or Writing and anything you guys could be cooking in yalls heads. Nothing disrespectful as well, and dont use my character in posts/works that contain harmful messages like ableism, homophobia, transphobia etc.

#answered asks #character interaction boundaries

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cyncerity · 2 years ago

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Hi, I absolutely love your store shifter au and it gave me so much brainrot!! I’m borrowing a friend’s account for the moment because I can’t have a tumblr. Anyhow, I just wanted you to say that even if I can’t interact, I absolutely love all your ideas!!! If I understood the lore right, I would assume George is Sapnap’s younger brother and whatever traumatizing experience caused Sapnap to shift also took George away from Dream when they were young. Will Dream and George ever meet in person and if they met as tinies, would George realize it was Dream and what would he think of Dream having the pendant/braid? How would Tommy learn Dream was a shifter, and if one of them was tiny when that happened how would they deal with/would there be a language barrier? And how does Dream learn to shift back? This is much longer than intended, sorry. Feel free to answer parts of it or none of it, I just wanted you to know you’re wonderful!! And if this ask isn’t long enough, then here’s some writing prompts -a friendly admirer

“I can’t believe it.”

“What?”

“My clothes. They just look so, so…”

“Yeah. Hard to believe we even fit that size, right?”

“It’s crazy.”

xxxxxx

"Wow"

"What?"

"Nothing... I'm just not used to

seeing you from this angle.”

"Yeah, I guess it's usually the

other way around.”

This is literally one of the most personal asks I’ve ever gotten solely for the fact that how you described being on tumblr is exactly how I was

I wasn’t allowed on tumblr, so i’d wait till everyone in my house was asleep and then pull out my middle school ipod as a burner device, look at g/t posts for an hour or so, then delete the google tabs i’d pulled them up on and fully shut down the ipod and hide it.

I lurked in this specific community for about a year, then lurked with an account so i could send asks for about another half year until i caved and got the app without parental permission lol (my dad had seen how tumblr was before the bad bots started to get banned so he honest to god thought this was one of those kinda sites but hes chill now)

suffice to say i completely know where you’re coming from and I love you for it 💖

Even if you can’t like my posts or have an account, just coming on here and saying you like my content is so awesome and it absolutely means the world to me 💕✨💖

As for you’re thoughts on the lore (and thank you for sending so many questions I love when this happens):

You’re getting close >:)

Sapnap doesn’t have any siblings, but as I’ve mentioned before (i think), Quackity does! And the event that sparked Sapnap’s shifting was similar to what got George taken in the first place (which could definitely be a reason that it was distressing enough to cause him to shift 👀), just on a larger scale and at different times. George was gone well before Sapnap became a shifter.

As for more on George, i’ll limit myself to what I can say cause there’s so much I want to write for him. At some point it’s my goal to write a story for him as a sort of interlude of the “dream shifted for the first time” story (there will be more parts! I’m working on them! Ngl this ask kinda made me realize how much I wanted to finish the second part of that) and have him fully explained there.

But I can tell you that Dream and George will meet in person! I can’t tell you if Dream will be tiny when they meet, cause you don’t even know for sure what species George is yet, but i promise the boys will meet! Will George know it’s Dream when they meet and vice versa? Who knows! That’s for me to know and you all to find out later >:)

Tommy won’t learn Dream is a shifter for a while, since Dream is stuck at the store. It also takes a bit of time for a new shifter to shift back to their normal size, since they’ve been repressing their capabilities for so long, their body has to stay at the opposite size to get used to it initially. Dream will be able to shift back at some point, but not without some help :)

And now that you mention it, there definitely could be a language barrier, and that could make things really interesting 👀 (im imagining Tommy seeing Dream tiny for the first time at a loss for words and Dream frantically trying to explain what he is but obviously Tommy already knows, so Tommy starts talking about being a shifter himself and he can’t hear Dream’s absolute shock and confusion at this information and can answer none of his questions)

And the writing prompts, YES, i am IN LOVE WITH THEM

If i don’t write specific things for them, they will be put into the next few stories for this au because they are such good ideas oh my word

and as a treat because i loved answering your questions and it made me really happy to get an ask that hit so close to my own experience here’s some miscellaneous Store Shifter drawings from my chorus class, just for you bestie 💖

i have so many of these for so many aus you don’t even know the half of it

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2-dsimp · 1 year ago

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Hi NightFlurry Anon again,

Just want you to answer some questions for future fantasy au yander genshin posts I'll be sending,

Is it alright if I send in pictures or doodles of my Fantasy Au of genshin? If that's alright with you of course, I'd love to send in some doodles, but they aren't good so I'm afraid if you won't like it, but can I?

I noticed that my Kazuha, the Traveling Knight, post was a lot longer than my Albedo, the ice mage, and Xiao, your cold bodyguard, post so if you want I can redo that post again to make it longer. Or is it okay just how it is?

Can I continue sending in these posts? If that's alright with you.

Also, is there any opinions or advice about my writings that I should change or focus on? I never posted my thoughts or writings on anyone until your post because your writing and stories are so good I wanted to share my writings. I'd love to know your opinions.

Who should I write next? I'm kind of stuck on Wanderer, Heizou, and Zhongli so far, so I need some ideas.

Thank you,

NightFlurry

1. Of course any and all art is welcomed! So feel free to send me all in whenever you feel like it o(≧v≦)o

2. It’s okay just how it is! But what really matters is how you feel about it! If you feel the need to spiffy up some parts then by all means you’re free to do so since this is your lovely work!

3. (>^ω^<) yes

4. I don’t really know to be honest. Is there anything specific about your writing that you’d want advice/opinion on? If so then I’m all ears since everyone has their own style! Id like to know more about what type of writing style you’re going for/you’re thinking process for how you write before I say anything (^◇^;).

5. Out of those lovely choices I’d go for Heizou o(^▽^)o

#2dsimp chat 💬#nightflurry🌌 fantasy au #nightflurry🌌#Q&A

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leffee · 8 months ago

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With the main 7 how do rank how often they’d want cuddles/ how affectionate they are?

I’d love to give Vinnie and penny a hug! oh and your writing is phenomenal you’ve gotten me back into watching the show!

Ok ok, so last things first, thank you thank you so much!! I'm glad you like my silly little writting, such things are really really propeling me to write for this small fandom and I'm getting proper into it. I think I might have to do a list of things I want to write out so I don't forget any ot he plots that come to me sometimes randomly sometimes not.

And I got you back into watching lps? Omg, now that's a compliment like no other! Well then, I hope you enjoy yourself ^^. Feel free to report back with anything if you want to, you know I love talking about basically anything involving lps, whether stuff that acutally happened in episodes etc or just completely made up headcanons, AUs etc.

I too want to give those two a hug, well, all of them really, but of course especially Vinnie <3. I I could I would never let him go... okay, I would, because more than wanting to hug him myself I want his friends to hug him so I could release him for that.

Now onto the questions, I'm gonna guess that you have already read it but I actually have already asked something very similar to the "how affectionate they are" question, I'll still provide a link, it's here:

Oh, that cover is terrifying

However, I can still use that as an excuse to talk about them™ in the sense of that "how often they’d want cuddles" ask. It's kinda different and I'm taking advantage of that, even if this will be probably pretty short (compared to my other answers anyway >.>):

Penny/Vinnie, I'm counting those two together in the sense how often they want cuddles because for both of them the answer is "basically all the time", just, you know, Penny's rather open about it most of the time, Vinnie on the other haaaand not really. Penny is known as the affectionate one anyway and she has been doing this for years, so no one is surprised when she says she want affection. She will also often initiate it for those reasons too.

Vinnie though, well, he won't say it at all most of the time, the best you can get out of him are nonverbal cues like getting closer to you, "accidentaly" tripping and landing on someone, just standing there are staring at you with the most intense gaze ever "...What's going on?" Sunil flinched seeing Vinnie's peculiar position "Nothing, just chilling like that." "That literally does not look like chilling one bit." Honestly, he looks like he's planning to pounce on you and gouge your eyes out. One thing though! He can use his permanent coldness as an excuse if he's really desperate, he can just say that he's cold as he awkwardly tries to initiate a hug or cuddling and say that's the only reason why he's getting closer.

See why those two are so great together? She wants cuddles all the time, he wants cuddles all the time, perfect, right? That is if Penny manages to break through the tall, tall walls of tsunderesness he exhibits when it comes to physical affection, but then again I'm pretty sure she knows how it really is with him ;) everyone knows actually oop

Minka: I think she really likes cuddling but is not up for them all the time because that requires staying in one place for sometimes long time and often she's too hyper for that. Aside from that, yipee, give her cuddles :))), he's happy to initiate or join, be prepared though because she might jump on you when you least expect it

Zoe: she prefers other forms of physical affection like kisses, but that doesn't mean she never wants cuddles because she absolutely does. At the same time she might not be up for them all the time either because she's worried (I mean, rightly so) that it will mess up her hair or create wrinkles on her clothes, maybe even destroy her make up if she's not careful. Still, wants cuddles sometimes and thinks they're great

Pepper: oh she's definitely not up to admitting that she wants any sort of hugs or cuddles most of the time just like Vinnie, but at the same time she doesn't exactly crave them that super often. Will only do it if the other person initiates them and even then she will pretend that she doesn't really like it all that much (contrary to Vinnie who after initial protests and all that once cuddled will normally go quiet about it and enjoy himself)

Sunil: he mostly wants cuddles when he's scared/worried/anxious, basically feeling any sort of negative emotions because it makes him feel safe and grounds him. Besides that, he craves them sometimes too, but not quite as often as certain others, still, he won't complain one bit at being cuddled at any point. I think he likes when someone lies on top of him cause then they're like a human blanket for him and it's just nice, squishy sort of pressure

And last but not least, Russell: hmmm I think he'd want cuddles pretty often, I know we're talking about human au, but in his case I'm following the logic that he in one episode (season 4 episode :3) said that "nobody wants to hug him because of his quills" and bby was really sad about it :(. I don't know what could replace that in human au, but anyway that's how I conclude he likes cuddling. He might be kinda like Zoe sometimes in not wanting it to happen because it might wrinkle his clothes if he's supposed to be somewhere public that day, but aside from that he's definitely not opposed to them, though I think seldom he might be a bit tsundere about cuddless too

Welp, this ended up pretty long in the end, oops. Honestly I call bs on that, they all want cuddless all the time and they deserve them, let us make them all cuddle all the time with each other in a big ass pile

#lps 2012 #asks

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lostxmelody · 1 year ago

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Not really a question but i’d just like to express that i’m a huge can of your fic, i’ve read it since chapter 1 and have been sucked in ever since. majority of the 0309 content made by fans often have them terribly mischaracterize making lots of people end up hating the ship instead cause all they think the fans are capable of doing are creating terrible stuff of them and just set a bad impression on the ship even when is just supposed to be a silly pairing cause milgram doesnt run on romance!! T__T including me i used to like (not like it too much) to say the least though i tried to be more open to it cause i was starving on fan content and just went on ahead on ao3 and said “fuck it i’m reading a fic of them” to which i did .. some of the fics are questionable though when i found yours i just knew it would be good from the start. The way you characterized Fuuta and his experience with his crime was just ODBAJhsjsjd /pos. The way you potrayed Mikoto’s social life, ideals and personality is so so close to his canon one if not that its quite exactly the same!! (to how i imagined it atleast) its refreshing to see people characterize him as someone that isnt a ‘big top hottie thats overly flirty and is an asshole and doesnt care about anyone’s feelings’ and the way you really showed and expanded the dynamic they’d have together (in an au) atleast was just well done, you elaborated it well in the fic. most of the people i’ve seen just makes them grumpy x sunshine, etc etc tropes not that its bad but i think they’d have more to if than just that especially with their crimes and ideals involved and how they view life. if you’d open a twitter account i’d totally support you like hell, big time i’d love to hear more about your thoughts on 0309, Mikoto / Milgram in general and maybe give your fic more attention it deserves one way or another <33 chapters are already 8/10 done! i cant believe its nearly done aswell. i’m not huge into shipping but i love the way you write the characters (even the side! Yuno + Mahiru + Shidou’s characterization is so good) pleaase give yourself more credit as a good writer in the milgram fandom!! i know you’re a busy person anyway (you seem like one) though i just wanna say thank you for taking the time to write life’s reflection and the other oneshot you wrote. Take care of yourself :D<333

thank you so much!! i havent delved much into other milgram fanfics, in this case talking specifically about 0309 because i know from past experiences in different fandoms that whenever i did that i'd become so worried about my own characterization that i just ended up dropping the entire idea and never writing it again.

writing a slash pairing the milgram fandom is a bit... i guess probably frowned upon, depending on who you ask. it's not meant to be a shipping scene but where theres a will theres a way lol. ive become really fascinated by their made-up dynamic. mikoto and fuuta have barely any canon interactions and whenever they did-- it was obvious that they don't even like the other. why ship that? well i can't provide an answer for everyone, but for me it's just because i like reading about two broken people healing and why not add a tinge of almost-enemies to lovers in there? lol

its funny you mention a twitter because i did make one about a month ago but immediately abandoned it because i didn't plan on using it... i guess i could though! i just end up overthinking everything i post but it would be nice to engage a little more with like-minded (read: 0309 truthers /hj) people

you can find that here! (barebones rn... but feel free to interact or whatever and i'll make it look better eventually)

thanks again for such a sweet comment!

#milgram #milgram fanfiction #and i am busy but...#(aside from work)#the truth is i just end up watching video essays all the time #i try to watch them as i write but i get too distracted wwww

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rwgroup · 2 years ago

Text

2022 Send-Off Challenge

Hey everyone! @serenalunera here. It’s been a while. Not sure how many of you still lurk on here, but I thought I'd ask just in case. Since the show is ending this Sunday, I was thinking we could do a little something to celebrate the end of a long road.

I have to admit I kinda fell out of love with the show for a while there (also life happened and we all know how that goes), but I spent these past few months rewatching everything from the start in preparation for this final ark. And even if it's not the same as it was a few years ago when the fandom was active and the RWG was booming, I find myself feeling very nostalgic about Rickyl, and about what we had here at the RWG. I figured I'm probably not the only one, so here's my question: would anyone be interested in a little old-school RWG challenge as a send-off for the show?

I know we're all busy so I'll keep things simple. The idea would be to produce fanworks (fic, art, music, etc.) based on one (or more) of these prompts:

Prompt 1: Days Gone Bye Look to the past for inspiration: your favorite scene, episode, season, or even a specific fic or type of fic you used to love. Take that as inspiration to write something new!

Prompt 2: What Comes After Look toward the future and imagine a life for Rick, Daryl, or any of the characters. Whether it be canon-compliant, canon-divergent, or completely AU, as long as it takes place in the future, the world is your oyster!

Prompt 3: The First Day of the Rest of Your Life You're not satisfied with the ending or you don't like the direction the show went in at some point? Rewrite it! Erase that character, remove that death, change that relationship... You do you. It's your story now!

I realize some of us don't exactly have a lot of time on our hands these days, so feel free to write however many words you want/can if you do decide to write something. As for the deadline, I was thinking the 31st of December to end the year on a bright note but I can always push it back if you need more time. This is open to everyone, RWG member or not. If you plan on posting on AO3, don't forget to add the tag RWG Send-off Challenge 2022 so I can add your work to the collection (or post your work directly to the collection here).

If you have any questions, feel free to send an ask here or @serenalunera, and I’ll answer you to the best of my ability!

#rickyl #rick x daryl #rwgroup #rwg updates #rwgsendoffchallenge2022 #rwgchallenges

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isabelguerra · 2 years ago

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I am LOVING combing through all of your wizard au posts for never-seen-before lore. I've been reading the patented isabelguerra wizard au since 2020 and I have had just one (several) question all these years..... WHAT IS GOING ON WITH CODY AND LISA IN THIS AU!! What was up with Cody's boggart!! What was the traumatic event!! Why can Lisa see thestrals!! These two are so mysterious and enthralling and I've been thinking about their appearance in your boggart fic for sooooooo long. If any of this is spoiler free I would love to hear it.

Aw thank you!! god the 2020 era isabelguerra blog…. thanks for being here so long :’) Back then I just wasn’t letting the blog/au be something I could do for fun, hearing people actually LIKED them and came BACK is nuts (touching). its nice having something connecting you to a community. heres some answers for you:

Cody and Lisa in wizard au!!!!!!! So this AU was made before ch6, before Davy, and idk if the headcanon has died out now but people used to LOVE headcanoning cody+lisa as twins. That, plus my personal preference for their designs in ch1, meant that Wizard Au Cody and Lisa are twins and also Filipino. Different houses, same family.

And oh man Codys boggart. ok. You MIGHT be disappointed here, but. Codys boggart was a very subtle drawn-out jab at pnat’s then-recent canonization of the existence of vampires. I hated it. I was SO mad. So I did some digging on vampire lore and found apparently they can’t cross running water. So when Max overheard Stephen theorizing ‘oh jones has a water fear I bet hes some kinda vamp’, then getting yelled at by Lisa for jumping to extreme conclusions when REALLY he just had a very normal but bad experience as a kid, the underlying message there is me the writer going “vampires are the most nonsensical direction [canon] could be taking right now this makes no sense and in addition to hating it personally i’m going to make it explicitly clear that I will Never include it in my own story”.

Which is so silly. but you know if there’s one thing I love its literary symbolism. so whatever. That said, that was years ago and hey maybe i’ll change it! I’ve been working on rewriting boggart fic for republication and maybe i’ll mess around with it more. i’d love to hear your theories!!

As for Lisa seeing Thestrals, that part was initially added as an addendum to ‘Max wonders why nobody else can see Thestrals’, a bit i wrote to get an Angst Reaction before i realized A). it made no sense since isabels grandpa is literally dead B). i’ve evolved past shock value writing. so now it’s max, isabel, and lisa- max and isabel are obvious, but I really enjoyed Lisa’s pre-school store reveal characterization as ‘mysterious weird girl who just kind of knows creepy things somehow’ instead of ‘underground rebellion runner with tabs on literally everyone etc etc’. For this characterization purpose thestrals, as creatures only someone who has seen death can see, fit her really really well.

Essentially I liked her mystery and felt giving ‘Why Can Lisa See Thestrals’ an answer would be redundant in its purpose. Why can she see them? We just know she can. Maybe Cody knows, as her brother. Maybe Violet knows, as her best friend. But the story we follow as Max, Isabel, and Johnny has no reason to have that information. Much like the true nature of Cody’s boggart and the conversation they have following it, that’s a private moment we don’t have access to. Some things we aren’t meant to know. Some things don’t have an answer.

So that’s Lisa and Cody’s deal! I hope this was a fulfilling answer, I love getting asks about the au and I love writing it. Feel free to (as in please I’d love to hear them) send your other several questions! I love theorizing and I LOVE hearing theories others make about my work. Ty for the ask!!

#paranatural #cody jones #lisa paranatural #pnat hogwarts #wizard au #asks #junk-thrillz

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piecksz · 4 years ago

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dirty little secret | (m)

pairings: jock!eren yeager x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, dub con, cheating, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), mouth fucking, saliva, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, sneaky sex, explicit language

words: 3.2k+

summary: eren’s unsatisfied in his relationship with his girlfriend, so he looks to you for sexual gratification.

a/n: all the characters in this story are adults! it was originally meant to be a college au but the whole “fire drill” detail doesn’t really make sense in a college setting since fire drills are typically held in dorms, so as per usual 18+ minors dni.

Your legs moved quickly against the polished tile of the hallway while you sped up to meet with your class who had already been far ahead of you, disappearing into the throng of people filing outside at the blaring signal of the fire alarm.

You’d excused yourself during your lesson to use the bathroom, unaware that an unplanned drill had been scheduled for that day, so with haste you finished up and rushed to rendezvous with the rest of your classmates before you were left inside the building.

As you rounded the corner, you felt a pair of hands wrap around your forearm, forcibly pulling you behind the small door that stood at the end of the corridor.

Instinctively, your hands balled into fists, and you threw them blindly in the direction of your assailant. You hoped that you’d at least land one successful hit, and it would give you enough time to break out of their hold and flee.

“Y/N, relax! It’s just me!”

Your hysterical flailing ceased, and you opened your eyes hesitantly at the sound of your attacker’s familiar voice. “Eren?”

Frantic pupils fell upon a pair of mischievous jade eyes, and your terror-stricken expression contorted into an angry scowl as you drove the palms of your hands into his chest, sending him careening back into the metal shelf behind him. “You asshole! What is wrong with you?”

Eren’s quick reflexes allowed him to catch himself and the rack before both were sent tumbling to the floor. “Ow,” he grumbled, rubbing away the soreness spreading over the skin of his arm from your knuckles’ potent impact. “You’ve got a brutal left hook.”

“Yeah? You wanna see my right one?” Your right hand tightened as if you were projecting another throw, but Eren’s outstretched arm maintained a safe amount of space between you two. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Eren’s tightly-wound eyebrows began to arch as his distressed face eased into a buoyant grin. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

You blinked. “Were you the one that pulled the fire alarm?”

“No, I didn’t pull the fucking fire alarm,” he replied sourly, evidently offended that you’d suggest he’d do something so juvenile. “I just got lucky.”

Your curled lip relaxed, and your irritation waned into a resigned stare. You desperately wanted to trust Eren’s saccharine words, and it didn’t take much effort to believe him while you were faced with his stupidly winsome expression. His smile was warm, eyes glossing over with adoration like he was truly expressing what he felt, and it wasn’t just empty flattery, yet you’d been more perceptive than to just take his intentions for what they were. Rather, you’d been smart enough to learn from last time.

He’d said something along the same lines, after you two had hooked up in his car after his lacrosse game. He was feeling mirthful after winning and wanted to celebrate with you, but on the cusp of his orgasm, he’d let the “love” phrase slip, and when you’d asked him about it afterward, Eren mulled over it for a second before nodding, admitting that he had feelings for you.

His confession had been somewhat of a relief, and you’d expected him to end things with his girlfriend shortly after he’d realized what he really wanted, but the following day in the courtyard, you were stunned to see Eren sitting with her and the rest of his friends, showering her with kisses like nothing had taken place the night before.

You swore you’d learned your lesson.

“Are these new? Can I see them?” Eren’s fingers gently wrapped around the frame of your glasses, pulling them from your face, and he slid them onto his ears, adjusting their position on his nose. “How do I look?”

“I can’t see, Eren,” you answered simply.

Eren laughed bashfully. “Right, I think they look better on you instead.” He slid your glasses off and tucked them back behind your ears.

Your lenses restored your lucid vision, and now that you could properly see, you noticed the way Eren’s lips were parted, lids low and languid as his face lingered only inches from yours. He’d used your glasses as leverage to get closer to you, a crafty technique, and now that he was close enough, he could whisper.

“You know what else looks better on you?” The corner of his mouth quirked upwards into his cheek, and he closed the space between you two, fixing his lips onto yours while his thumb and index finger supported the curve of your chin. His kiss was slow, mouth undulating with the most tender of movements, and when he carefully slid his tongue between your teeth you could taste the vague chill of spearmint on his breath. He proceeded timidly, as though he was touching you for the first time, but that was the very detail of your couplings that always had you running back. He handled you like he cared.

The tip of Eren’s nose skimmed against yours, ever so slightly, while he continued prompting his tongue further into the depths of your mouth, eager to have you savor his desire.

Your body was traitorous and unmoving, allowing Eren to command you with his lips, and for a few blissful minutes, you forgot the two of you were crammed into the unyielding space of a storage room.

Eren withdrew from your mouth, and tilted his head to the side so he could occupy the empty curve of your neck, and once you felt him press mild kisses to the hollow of your throat, you freed a displeased sigh and sent him backwards with an assertive push.

“Seriously? In the supply closet?”

“We’ve got like fifteen minutes before everyone comes back.” He reassured you, shrugging dismissively before tipping his head in for another kiss.

You shifted backward, studying Eren as he continued to lean in until his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Wondering why he wasn’t receiving any contact, his eyes flitted open.

“You still haven’t broken up with her have you?” You pressed your lips into an unamused line.

Your question had Eren angling until he was standing upright, and then he rolled his head back and released a groan as though already tired from your question. “Y/N, come on. I don’t feel like having this conversation.”

“Have you?” you probed.

“No, I haven’t. It’s not that easy.”

“It really is.”

Eren drew his eyebrows up, now in regret. “We’ve been together since freshman year. Do you know how big of a douchebag it makes me look if I break up with her two months before graduation?”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. “Do you know how big of a douchebag you look fucking me behind her back?”

Eren’s eyes drifted to the side.

“Or are you just embarrassed to be seen with me?” you questioned, canting your body into his view.

“Okay, you sound ridiculous,” Eren laughed dryly.

“Because I’m not a cheerleader or an athlete, and I have about one other friend. You don’t want everyone to know you’re fucking the girl that spends lunch in the library.”

“What kind of cliche movie do you think we’re in right now?”

“It’s just something I’d expect from someone who peaked in high school.” Your words were sharp on the tip of your tongue, and you could tell by the way Eren recoiled that your statement managed to penetrate his seemingly careless guise.

“I’ll handle it okay?” Eren’s hand slid over the back of his neck, looking blameworthy of all the faults you’d accused him of. “But right now I really need help handling something else.”

Your eyes narrowed in his direction after realizing he’d managed to do it again, forcing you into forgiveness with his charming abashed impression. He’d taken advantage of how spineless you were when it came to matters concerning him.

“Please?” he urged.

It was his thick brown brows that were creased in the middle and opalescent green eyes that stared you down that made him look so sincere. He was easily one of the most spellbinding people you’d ever met, attractive and likable, he knew exactly what cards to play to get his way, and even though you were aware of it, you always found yourself wrapped around his finger. A pretty face and a sweet tongue was a recipe written up by the devil himself.

You lowered yourself onto your knees, leveled with Eren’s hands working swiftly against the buttons of his slacks. “I’m done doing this, Yeager,” you announced wryly.

“I know,” Eren said, as though guaranteeing you it would be the last time.

He pushed his pants down along with his briefs in one swift motion, freeing his cock from the tight cotton confines of his underwear. His length was already rigid, the sticky beads of precum leaking out of his swollen head the result of your stalling. He’d already provoked himself by thinking of all the ways he wanted to have you, you didn’t have to do anything more to get him hard.

A relieved exhale left Eren’s lips once he grabbed the base of his cock in the sweaty heat of his palm, tapping his wet tip against your bottom lip, then he pulled the hem of his shirt up slightly, allowing you enough clearance to take him into your mouth.

You wrapped a ginger hand around his length, feeling the way his warmth throbbed in your fingers, and you leaned in, using your tongue to lap along the rim of his cock.

“Fuck—” Eren’s voice was husky as it ripped through the depths of his throat. He watched you with heavy lids, observing the way your tongue’s tip danced around his swollen head, giving coy licks to his slit, and the way his cock twitched with need at the slightest provocation. “Jesus Christ—”

You gave him a few generous pumps before taking him whole, humming at the way his girth felt against the inside of your cheeks. The skin of his length ran like hot silk over your tongue as you fell into a natural rhythm, and your lips and hand rocked back and forth against him.

Eren’s face broke out into a dirty grin. “You’re such a little slut for my cock, aren’t you?”

You glared up at him over the edge of your glasses.

“Sorry,” he responded meekly, fingers brushing away the strands of hair that fell loosely against his forehead.

You continued working against him, excited by the honeyed melody of his moans every time your fingertips ran over the sensitive skin of his balls. Eren’s cock pulsated against the surface of your tongue with each small ministration, and you watched the muscles across his abdomen tense.

“I know you hate me,” he started. “But you have no idea how hot you look on your knees right now. Keep glaring at me like that, and I’m gonna cum in your mouth.”

The mention of Eren’s warning had a torrent of heat surging between your legs, and you fought off the urge to dip your fingers beneath your skirt and begin rubbing away your discomfort. You didn’t want him to know you were enjoying this almost as much as he was.

Your heavy yet stifled breathing caused your glasses to fog lightly, so you sat back on your knees, withdrawing your mouth from him briefly to catch your breath. You lifted a thumb to wipe away at the saliva that dribbled down your chin, but Eren’s fast fingers stopped you, holding your wrist away from your face.

“Don’t,” he breathed. “You look pretty like that.”

You ran the back of your hand across your cheeks, as though you were trying to rub off the furious heat that crept across your skin and over your nose. “Shut up.”

Eren only responded with an amused smile.

Then when you brought him back to your lips for the last time, his hands settled on the crown of your head, and he pushed his cock back in until his tip relentlessly prodded the back of your throat. Holding your head in place, he began jerking his hips, fucking your mouth at an agonizingly slow pace that had heavy tears cascading down your cheeks.

Every time his cock slowly and deliberately pressed against the back of your throat, you gagged involuntarily, fingertips digging into the side of his thighs.

“Feel how hard I am?” Eren asked. “You did that.” He rocked his pelvis forward again, muffling your whines.

“Yeah? You like it when I fuck your pretty little face, don’t you?” He thrusted himself between your jaws, throwing his head back and liberating a series of foul swears. “I really need to feel you.”

With the declaration of his wish, he pulled his cock out of your mouth, inhaling sharply at the obscene sight of his length coated and dripping with your spit.

After your dry heaving subsided, Eren helped you up with a gentle hand, running his palm between your shoulder blades to soothe your coughing. He made sure you were steady before cuing you to turn so that your back was facing him, then he watched as your shaky hands slid underneath your skirt and fingers hooked around the fabric of your underwear.

“Pull out this time, Eren. I mean it,” you rasped, cautioning him ahead of time. You stepped out of your underwear and used the toe of your shoe to cast it aside.

Eren’s hands reached under your hem, large palms gliding over the curve of your ass. “The odds of you getting pregnant are like one in what?” He flipped up your skirt and continued teasing the skin of your backside. “Plus I always cover you for the pill, don’t I?”

“I don’t care, cum in me and you’re dead.” Your fingers gripped the edge of the metal shelf, and you slid your arm around Eren’s shoulder while he placed one hand on your waist for support and curved the other under your thigh. Then, he brought your knee up to his chest until all of your weight was allocated onto one leg.

Eren held his cock with his fingertips and slid himself between your folds from behind. You let out a soft, unanticipated whimper, but quickly brought your teeth down on the flesh of your tongue to smother any more sounds of pleasure. You didn’t even bother looking over your shoulder at Eren’s satisfied smirk, you could tell by the way his hand squeezed your thigh that he had noticed it.

Eren positioned himself at your entrance, skimming his wet tip over your hole before sliding himself inside you. His cock slipped in with ease, your saliva acting as a crude lubricant.

“Oh fuck—” His breath was hot over the span of your neck.

“Eren—” you sighed, forgetting all your pretenses. You closed your eyes, enjoying the way he stretched you out, and then he started moving causing a pattern of shallow cries and moans to fall from your lips.

“Fuck Y/N, you drive me fucking crazy,” Eren groaned, thrusting up into you, slowly and rhyhmically, steadily filling you to the hilt every time, while his hand traveled beneath your ribcage to cup your breast over the crisp fabric of your uniform. “She doesn’t take me as well as you do.”

You shook your head, making weak sounds of protest between delicate whines. “I don’t wanna hear that, Eren—”

“But it’s true.” Eren moved quickly between your legs, hissing every time your slick walls tightened around his aching cock. With each punctuated thrust, you continued to lose yourself, until your need unfurled and Eren had you under siege. His methodical pace sent you into a flurry of moans, and you cried his name over and over.

His even strokes began to stagger, and his breathing became rapid and shallow, chaotic pants of hot air rolling out over the span of your shoulder.

“I’m gonna cum—” He continued pounding into you, faster now, harder, keen on drawing out his orgasm, and then Eren gave one last thrust, so deep it had you shutting your eyes and pursing your lips to keep from screaming. Then he shuddered, his body convulsing with the bout of his orgasm, and you felt him release inside of you, thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your pussy with every twitch of his cock.

“Y/N—” he moaned, resting his chin in the curve of your shoulder while he continued to jettison every drop of his release until he was sure he was empty.

Your hands tightened around his shoulder, as the ripple from Eren’s climax had your cunt tightening around his length, and ecstasy spread over the span of your pelvis and down your thighs. Once he grew limp, he slipped himself out of you, and you felt a slow stream of his cum run down the inside of your thigh.

“I said not to cum in me you fucking idiot.” Your legs were sweaty, making it easier for you to twist yourself out of Eren’s hold until you were now standing upright, both legs planted unsteadily on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.” Eren wrapped his arms around you apologetically, but you shrugged him off, using your elbow to drive him back.

Your eyes scanned the closet with haste, looking for tissue paper you could steal to clean up the mess between your thighs, and Eren must have sensed your aim because he made use of his height, seizing a large roll from the top shelf and unwrapping it before handing it to you.

You grabbed it out of his hands, waiving a statement of gratitude, and ripped away a few plies, crumpling them up into a generous wad. “You owe me eighty dollars.”

Eren’s eyebrows lifted and his face twisted into an incredulous expression while he stuffed himself back into his pants and buttoned them up. “Are you running a prostitution ring?”

“I’m serious. Fifty for the pill and thirty just for dealing with you.” You straightened out your uniform, and watched as Eren did the same, tugging on his collar to smooth out the creases.

“You’re a mean little bitch,” he jeered with a slight playful undertone, and then he looked off to the side in concentration. He turned around, pressing his ear to the door of the supply closet, and then he looked back at you. “I think they’re coming back.”

You hummed.

“I’ll walk out first.”

“Right,” you said unenthusiastically, recalling that no matter how many praises he lavished you with in private, in public you were still his dirty little secret. He vowed to you that he would end his current relationship because it was clear you were growing tired of being his toy, good enough for him to fuck but undeserving of anything else. And after all was said and done, when you two passed each other in the halls, he’d still glance at you with the cordiality of a stranger.

Eren had promised to handle it, yet it was obvious he had no intentions to, and you knew that while you watched him give you a fond smile before slipping out of the supply closet.

#eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren x reader #eren x reader smut #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x reader smut #aot smut #aot x reader #aot x reader smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x reader smut #aot au #eren au #attack on titan au

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formidxble · 3 years ago

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▸ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the 2 times bang chan tried to confess and the 1 time he almost did.

▸ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bang chan x female reader

▸ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff and humor || CEO x Secretary AU

▸ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.8k

▸ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @meow-minho @bxngchxn @fairy-of-shampoos @hyunsluvv @bobateastay @http-hyxnjxn @poutypoutybin @fizzydrink698 @minniehohos @the7thcrow @vanishingboots @qtieskz @arohabangtan @willwriteforhugs @mbbykh @helpsplease @freckledquokka @jisungcherry @crazyoverghosts @changlix-mp4 @asweeetdisposition @lixesque

▸finally !! this took so long, but this takes place before the events of “my house” ! you don’t have to read this in order to understand “my house” and vice versa. i’d also like to say that chan in this fic is 28 years old !!!

▸ before i forget, thank you for 900 followers! crazy how i posted “my house” as a gift for 500 followers, but now we’re here!! ahh, thank you! i hope you enjoy this, dear reader!

masterlist ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ my house

bang chan’s sure that he doesn’t believe in the concept of falling in love.

it’s not because of the bitterness that surrounded the concept itself, but he assumes it’s because of the position he’s in. while many think that being a CEO of the company entails many benefits, such as mansions, multiple cars, private jets, and tons and tons of women, he knows it’s actually the complete opposite.

maybe it’s because of his work-mindset that deters him from making meaningful relationships or maybe because he’s detached himself from everyone to guard whatever self-worth he still has. whatever the reason may be, he lays in his king-sized bed, alone, in a mansion that barely felt like home.

bang chan’s sure that he doesn’t believe in the concept of falling in love, but for some reason, as he stares at you from his office window, he’s sure he’s proved himself wrong.

he admits that he may have expected a firework or two or a grand celebration, but as he watches you tuck a hair strand behind your ear, he finally understands why people decide to throw themselves in the name of love with no plan, with no questions of how’s and why’s. the question is, is he ready to grab the opportunity, specifically the one that’s right outside his office?

his eyes follow you as you lean back on your office chair, huffing as you cross your arms in front of your chest before your eyebrows scrunch. chan chuckles softly and it’s got him wondering, for the nth time today, how he never noticed how your skin glowed despite being confined in a busy workplace. he’s never observed how pretty your fingers were when you grab a pen from the holder on your desk. and, maybe he was just blind all this time, but when has your hair looked this healthy and vibrant?

his stare is broken by the arrival of an employee who rests her elbows on your desk. chan watches how your eyes light up and how your lips curl up into a smile. he takes in a deep breath as his heart starts to beat faster. thoughts of work disappear and the image of you makes a home inside his mind. suddenly, his day’s a little bit brighter now, he’s not stressed anymore, and with your smile, he feels as if he can accomplish anything. now, he wants you to be the one to fill his days, afternoons, and nights.

and it’s probably the cheesiest thought that’s ever popped up in his business-centric mind, but that’s how love goes, he can only assume. the worst part is that he’s letting it take over him and he can’t find anything in him that’s saying no, that he shouldn’t push through with it, that it’s probably his loneliness playing tricks on him again. but, for the first time in his life, he’s able to say that yes, he’s ready to grab that opportunity, that chance for love, even if it’s uncertain, even if it hurts him somewhere along the way.

chan laughs.

it’s the mundanity of everything that intrigues him and chan wonders how a woman has managed to capture his heart in this manner. would it be selfish to ask for more when he supposedly has everything he could ever need? nevertheless, he rolls his chair back, a soft blush on his cheeks, before standing up and making his way to your desk.

no plan.

no questions of how’s and why’s.

you immediately stand up from your chair to bow and greet him and the female employee does the same, bowing with a small smile etched on her lips. chan grins and he’d be stupid to ignore the way his hands start sweating when you give him one back.

“come eat lunch with me,” he hums, putting his hands in his pockets. you tilt your head, eyebrows scrunching in response. chan chuckles as his head mimics yours. “unless, you have plans?”

you shake your head in response. chan catches the way you give your colleague a look and in his peripheral, he sees her scrambling away, a soft giggle leaving her lips. both of your eyes lock once more and you grin.

“let me get my stuff, then we can go, sir.”

in chan’s position, it’s always calculated— the probabilities of securing a sale, the percentage of the stock they’ll be able to acquire, and all that business stuff he’d grown accustomed to.

but now, he’s forced to think of all the possible outcomes in a scenario where nothing is certain.

there are many variables that come and interfere with the process of falling in love. feelings and emotions are built up over time and he can’t help but reminisce as the two of you make your way to the cafe. images of him getting angry flash in front of him, partnered with many different instances where the both of you argued in his office. he also remembers the way your eyes turn glossy during said arguments and the way you storm out when it gets too heated.

but, apart from memories like those, chan recalls the soft moments he’s shared with you over the course of the 8 years you’ve been together. the knowing stares, the smiles you share from across the room, the blushes that form on both of your cheeks, and the way the both of your hands absentmindedly reach out for each other when you think no one’s looking.

it’s become a secret language that none of you have consciously created.

and as chan pushes the cafe door open for you, he’s reminded that the line between your work relationship and friendship has been blurred for a long time. the both of you have grown closer to each other ever since you started spending more nights with him in his office. though it’s complicated, he knows that you’re not just his secretary anymore, but you’re someone he can confide in and someone he can trust.

with these, the outcomes that can arise from this conversation with you become hazier than when he started thinking of them.

the phone in his pocket is tempting, but he decides not to call changbin up for this one. he doesn’t know when and how to start, but at the end of the day, there are no rules to falling in love.

before you could fall in line, chan puts a hand on your shoulder. you turn to him as you raise an eyebrow.

“go,” chan tilts his head in the direction of a free table, “i’ll order for us.”

you blink. “but—“

“i insist,” chan chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck. “we don’t usually go out for lunch, so”—he grabs his wallet, holding it up for you to see—“it’s my treat.”

you step in closer, voice hushed only for him to hear, “you don’t have to, chan.”

formalities dropped, like what he’s used to with you in private, but it feels different now, hearing his name out in public. it rolls off of your tongue so easily and he can’t help but feel like he’s on a date.

“i want to,” he responds after a short while, watching as your cheeks turn bright red. “plus, it’s no big deal. we can always eat lunch together in the future if you’re up for it.” mentally, chan exhales shakily as the words leave his mouth.

you clear your throat as you nod and turn away, walking over to the table with no protests.

chan exhales through his nose as he finds his lips quirking up into a fond smile. his eyes follow you as you take a seat. he forces himself to look away before you could catch him staring, but at the side of his eye, he knows you already knew.

one thought pops up in his mind as he walks over to the table after ordering and paying, how was he supposed to go about this?

it brings him back to the talk about probabilities and being secure in your decision despite the uncertainty that comes with it. there’s a huge probability of him not getting the response he desperately wants to hear. is it enough, the moments you’ve shared, good and bad, for your feelings to grow as much as his did? and did you even have feelings for him in the first place?

he hopes the answer to both questions is affirmative.

chan’s hands start sweating as he grips the chair, pulling it away from the table. he takes a seat, your eyes locking with his as he makes himself comfortable. he had to admit that he has no plan and he has no idea what he’d end up saying, but as he’d come to know just earlier, love is about free falling and trusting the other that they’ll catch you. and one part of him knows, deep down, that your arms are open and ready.

at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

“miss y/l/n,” chan starts, clasping his hands on the table, “i brought you here to—“

your eyebrows shoot up as your mouth opens. “wow,” you chuckle shakily. “so formal. is this serious?”

for chan, it is.

his face heats up as he unclasps his hands, subtly wiping them on his pants. he flashes you a sheepish smile. “i just wanted to talk to you about something.”

you tilt your head, eyes not leaving his. chan’s heart starts beating faster as his lips part, but only a shaky sigh leaves it.

chan prides himself in his public speaking skills. he wouldn’t be called the industry’s Wolf if he didn’t do his job well. he’s spoken to a full stadium, presented in front of the world’s most prominent businessmen, and he’s travelled around the world giving seminars to people who aspire to be like him. but for some reason, he’s in front of a woman and he’s suddenly tongue-tied.

but, it’s not just any woman. it’s the woman he’s in love with. the thought makes him reel. saying it to himself has just proven that he’s madly in love with his secretary, you, y/n y/l/n. the woman who’s been with him ever since the beginning of this god-forsaken journey, the woman who’s seen him at his most vulnerable, the woman who’s stood by him after all these years.

“i—“

“is this about the schedule for this week?” your voice cuts through his thoughts and it scrambles them. chan feels like a teenager at this moment as his shoulders tense up, mind going blank at the melody of your voice.

“no, y/n—“

“i actually wanted to bring it up with you, as well. i’ve noticed that there are some inconsistencies with the schedule at the office and the schedule we prepared,” you grab a folder from your bag, laying it on the table, and opening it. chan blinks and swallows.

his eyes scan the paper in front of him, the surface littered with messy writing with a variety of colours adorning them. it’s hard to read if the both of you settled for this as the official schedule, but somehow, it doesn’t annoy him anymore. instead, his heart aches at the sight of your handwriting, the strokes completely unique to you and the design, if one could call it that, screams your name.

“unless,” you hum, “this isn’t what you wanted to talk about?”

as much as humanly possible, chan wasn’t here to talk about anything work-related. if only you knew the reasons behind his invitation, you wouldn’t be whipping out the damned folder. nevertheless, even as his shoulders fall to his sides, he leans over on the table, trying his best to focus on whatever it is you have brought to his attention.

“it’s fine,” he starts. “tell me about the problems, instead.”

“chan—“

“no,” he dismisses. “it’s nothing important. it can wait.”

this is what he gets for not having a plan in the first place. falling in love is all about falling into the depths of what is essentially the unknown, but it doesn’t mean that he has to dive in head first with no helmet. he groans internally as you flatten the paper on the desk, his confession thrown out of the window that’s beside the two of you.

suppose, it’s not the right time nor is it the right place. if chan was looking for fireworks and a grand celebration for his realization earlier, then maybe he can be the one to give that to the both of you once he actually gathers the courage to tell you how he feels. despite his defeat today, he forces himself to sit in front of you, and listening as you get into the nitty-gritty of the schedule in the office and the schedule you have on-hand.

truthfully, chan’s seen the inconsistencies before you could, but he lets you tell him, the sweet melody of your voice wrapping itself around and in him as he rests his cheek on his palm, eyes not leaving you.

“chan?”

your voice snaps him out of his trance and he raises an eyebrow.

“before i go on,” you giggle, “i’m paying the next time we go out, okay?”

chan cracks a smile, heart bursting at the thought of getting to be with you like this again. he hopes it’ll be a more relaxed setting. no more talk of work. just you and him, like he’d envisioned it to be.

“alright.”

hopefully, he’ll get to tell you next time. he’ll hold onto that.

the fateful next time comes rather quickly, just three days after the first one.

it comes in the form of a successful contract, with the client agreeing to it almost immediately. chan could sit back and say that it’s all his doing, that it’s with his charisma and wit that charmed the client, but truth be told, he couldn’t have done it without you.

first, without you, he wouldn’t have known about the company. sue him for not being interested in smaller companies as business partners, but it’s with your exceptional ability to get him to listen that’s made him understand the appeal. second, without you, the process wouldn’t have been as smooth as it was. papers arrived on time, meetings were set without a hitch, and the relationship with the client was amenable enough that it made transactions easier.

of course, all of the things you’ve done are considered to be the behind the scenes of a successful company, but for chan, you’re front and center. and though the success is connected to his name, it’s always also going to be your success.

as chan offers polite goodbyes to the businessmen who were exiting, his eyes drift to the other end of the room and it lands on you, glowing, with a wide smile that’s taking over your lips. your hair’s a bit disheveled, blouse not neatly tucked in, and the bags under your eyes are now more prominent than the last time he’s seen them, but to him, you’re still the most beautiful woman in the room. it’s multiplied tenfold when he sees you speaking to the client, the two of you laughing because of something you whispered.

chan’s heart aches and he knew it was the right time.

this is why he finds himself leading you up to the company rooftop.

chan’s an incredibly simple man when it comes to life’s pleasures. if he wants something, he’ll ask and he’ll get it, as simple as that. but, this is different. if chan wants to get something—get you, he knows he has to exert effort, even if it was as cheesy as confessing while the sun is setting in the horizon.

he has a plan now, a script to follow, and a solution to every outcome that may arise, but why are his hands still sweating in his pockets and why is he feeling light-headed?

chan pushes the rooftop door open, motioning for you to step outside first. he fights the urge to smile fondly when you narrow your eyes toward him. you step out nevertheless and he hears you gasp when you look out to the city’s skyline. he steps out himself, the door closing softly behind him.

the building is positioned perfectly toward the sunset and the light outlines your features. you’re glowing and it’s brighter than the brightest star responsible for this view right in front of him. chan puts his hands inside of his pockets as he stands next to you, watching the way the air ruffles your clothes and your hair from the corner of his eye. how he wishes he could be the wind softly grazing your skin as you looked out to the horizon.

chan lets out a soft chuckle as he shakes his head.

standing beside you, he understands why people say that love brings out the worst in you. chan’s never been the one to open up. used to guarding himself, he was taught to always be strong and to never show vulnerability, especially in public. he had an image to protect, a family legacy to keep going, and being weak won’t help him at all.

but, maybe, you can help him with that. make his worst into his best. chan sighs shakily.

“you did well,” chan starts as he taps his foot. you turn to him with a grin.

“thank you, sir. i couldn’t have done it without you.”

you cough softly as the words leave your lips. both of your cheeks heat up and chan uses this opportunity to move closer to you, the warm, afternoon air flowing around the both of you. just like the first time, the confession he’s prepared in his head is scrambled and he didn’t know when or where to start.

come to think of it, changbin did mention cue cards. chan smacks himself internally.

“yes, well,” his voice cracks slightly, “i didn’t bring you up here just to praise you.” you raise an eyebrow. “you and i both know of your abilities, so i won’t inflate your ego any further.”

“inflate my non-existent ego?” you joke, earning a giggle from chan.

chan turns to face you, wiping his palms on the side of his pants. you mimic him as you cross your arms in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side. your eyes lock and chan’s mouth grows dry. you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and he wonders why he’s never pieced it together before.

chan takes a step forward before taking your hand into his. he feels you hesitate for a moment, your hand threatening to pull itself away from his touch, but after a while, your fingers relax into his palm, as do your shoulders. your eyes scan his face and chan prepares himself to dive into the depths of love, hopelessly.

“y/n,” he starts. “we’ve been working together for a long time now and—“ chan rubs his thumb on the back of your hand—“i can say that you’re one of the most extraordinary women i’ve ever had the opportunity to be with.” your eyes widen. “and it’s not just about our professional relationship, but it’s also about our relationship outside of it.”

“you’re not just my secretary,” chan pauses to look at you—your eyebrows are scrunched and your mouth is slightly open. “you are my friend, someone i can talk to when i’m alone, someone i can confide to, but y/n…” chan taps his foot gently on the floor as he looks out to the horizon once more, wetting his lips. he hangs his head briefly before letting your eyes meet.

“y/n, i want to be more than that for you. i want to be more than just frie—“

a familiar tune plays in the rooftop and chan recognizes it almost immediately. your ringtone. what amazing timing this has been.

chan blinks as the warmth on his hand disappears. his heart is ringing in his ears, yet he catches your quick apology as you fish your phone out of your pocket. before you could say anything else, chan nods, shoving his hand inside his pocket again. you shoot him an apologetic look before you make your way out of earshot.

chan steps forward to grip the roof railing enough to make his knuckles turn white. he hunches over it as his stomach starts to hurt. he feels as if his blood has been drained from his body and his head becomes light, a stark contrast to the way his chest feels in the moment. he gags softly when the air blows on his face.

he was so close to the edge, both literally and figuratively, but the ringtone had to pull him back to square one. if he thought that his mind was a pain in the ass earlier, it was worse now.

one thing is clear, though. the confession has been eating him up the past few days and if he wanted to feel like himself again, he had to tell you, even if it meant getting rejected and making things awkward around the office.

he could always continue once you come back, right?

but, he learns now that the universe has a funny way of fucking with him. he can’t continue anymore because how could he when you returned to him out of breath, eyes bloodshot, and hands shaky?

“y/n?” chan questions, pitch higher than intended. he puts his hands on your arms to grip them gently as he scans your face. he tries to ignore the panic that’s brewing in his stomach. another thing to add to the list of the things happening in his body.

“did something happen? is there an emergency?”

“my—my sister—“ you stutter, tears flowing down your cheeks. chan prepares himself for the worst.

“y/n, i—“

“she passed her dream university!” you exclaim before bursting out crying again. chan slightly deflates, his shoulders falling to his sides and his chest becoming lighter. he rubs your arms awkwardly before pulling away with a nervous laugh.

“i thought it was—“

“no, chan! you don’t understand how serious this is!” you scream. “we’ve been talking about it ever since she was a kid, now, she’s on her way to college. and not just any college! it’s her dream uni! sure, it’s expensive, but you know, we can make it work! we always do!” you run your hand through your now disheveled hair, a huge smile forming on your lips. “you know that one time i was telling you about my sister taking the exam? this was for that university! the—“

chan sighs internally. if he confessed now, he would be stealing such a monumental moment from you. it wasn’t about him or your relationship anymore, but it’s about your family and your personal life. instead, he lets you ramble as he rests his arm on the railing, watching and listening to you and your stories. chan tilts his head gently, a fond smile on his lips.

next time.

he’ll get to tell you next time.

lucky for chan, the next time comes exactly the next day during the company’s big blowout party for him.

he finds himself waiting for you in the car and the both of you were running behind schedule, but he knows why. you’ve always wanted to take your time dressing up during formal events such as this. of course, he’d always offered a professional stylist to make sure the schedules don’t suffer from your tardiness, but time and time again, you would decline. the memory makes chan scoff in the backseat, letting out a soft huff after.

“late again, sir?” his driver teases.

chan puts his arm on the arm rest as he replies, “as usual.”

when the front door of your house opens, chan’s reminded of the reason why he’s never pushed the professional stylist offer.

you’ve done your hair in a manner chan hasn’t seen before, but it suited you. your make up’s bold, but elegant, and your dress hugs your body perfectly, leaving nothing to the imagination. he gulps. you’ve always upstaged your looks and tonight’s no different. chan knows you’re definitely going to outshine him in the party later, but you deserved to be seen the way he sees you—not just as his secretary, but as a professional who commands respect in the rooms she walks in.

as chan sharply inhales at the sight of you, his driver chuckles quietly.

he knows deep down that he had to say something tonight, but as usual, he’s ready with the cheesy speech—the ‘you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me’, the ‘i want to be yours’, but he’s just not sure when to tell you. would it be a good idea to steal you away in the middle of a company event or would it be better if he waited until the both of you were alone?

another day, another dilemma it seems. however, this particular dilemma has no right answer. no matter what he thinks of, there’s always a negative outcome.

before he could delve deeper, he sees the car door open through his peripheral. “we’re late again.”

you hum nonchalantly as you make yourself comfortable in the backseat. “good evening to you too, sir.”

“are we good to go now or are we still on your schedule, miss y/l/n?”

“there’s nothing wrong with being fashionably late, right mr. bang?”

but, as most things in chan’s world, there is something wrong with being “fashionably late”. you and chan are ushered out of the car as soon as you arrive at the company. the staff are muttering something about the crowd waiting for the two of you—for the grand entrance as the others have labelled before.

despite being part of the industry for a long time, chan could only roll his eyes at the formality of it all. it wouldn’t hurt to let loose, but he lets the staff guide the both of you to where you needed to be.

on the way to the event hall, chan unbuttons his black formal polo. he tells himself that it’s for show, but really it’s to let out the heat that has formed throughout his body as the thought of potentially being able to tell you about his feelings takes over his mind, alongside his thoughts of feeling like a teenager again. nevertheless, he tries his best not to look in your direction as you walked beside him.

once you arrive, the staff tell the both of you to wait as they prepare the hall for the grand entrance. chan thanks them as they disappear from sight, leaving the two of you alone. he shuffles awkwardly as he waits before hearing a soft ‘tsk’ leave your lips. he turns his head toward you, but before he could ask, your hands are on his chest.

chan freezes, but he finds it in himself to choke out your name, mouth drying up as he feels the heat from your fingertips through the fabric of his polo.

“buttons,” you mutter, your fingers finding their way to the buttons he unbuttoned only moments before. “you have to look presentable, chan. there are a lot of eyes in there.”

his eyes travel from your hands to your face. your eyebrows are furrowed as you focused on the task at hand and he almost forgets to breathe the whole time you’re on him. your perfume takes over his senses and for a moment, he thinks he’ll float because of the cheesy happiness that has started to bubble in his chest, but he doesn’t. instead, when you raise your eyes to meet his and he sees that sparkle that he’s grown to love, he’s brought back to reality.

and that’s when he realizes, after years of denying it to himself, that it’s not a feeling anymore. chan’s sure that you make him human. around you, he’s not bang christopher chan, the country’s youngest and most successful CEO, instead, he’s chan, the 28-year-old man who’s hopelessly searching for genuine connection in an industry that offers none of the sort.

chan’s on top, constantly, and the others that have come before you have made sure to keep him there, but you’ve grounded him in reality every time the both of you were together. may it be as simple as you answering back to him or as deep as listening to him rambling about god knows what during quiet nights in the office, you’ve always offered him a time and a place to feel human—be human, even for just a few minutes.

chan mumbles your name once more, but you don’t seem to hear as you lightly pat his now-buttoned chest with a smile on your lips.

“there,” you hum. “keep them buttoned for the rest of the night, okay?”

“i—“

“imagine all the articles when you come in there with your chest in full view,” you giggle as you start stepping back to your previous position beside him.

“y/n—“

you playfully cross your arms in front of your chest as you continue, “you have to thank me someday, you kno—“

“y/n,” he cuts you off. “can you please listen to me?” you stop in your tracks as you turn your head, eyebrows raised.

you blink in his direction, lips parting, “i’m listening, sir.” you tilt your head. “what’s wrong?”

chan moves in closer to you as you turn your body towards him, arms falling to your sides. “on the rooftop…”

“yes?”

“i didn’t get to finish my, um…”

your eyes widen. “yes, of course!” you exclaim. “i remember, yes.”

the two of you stand in silence for a moment as chan tries to collect himself, mind a complete and utter mess like the first time he’s faced with this exact same situation. he looks up at the ceiling as he tries to think of a word, a phrase, a sentence, anything else he can say to free himself of the shackles he voluntary put on himself.

your voice cuts through his thoughts as you ask, “did you want to tell me now?” you look at the door in front of you. “we’re due to enter soon.”

“i’m aware,” chan mumbles as he steps in closer to you once more, “but, this won’t take long.”

you nod, eyes scanning his face as your eyes meet. chan inhales, letting out, “how can i—okay. shit.”

this is already a disaster. where’s his cue cards? “i’ll just—“

“chan?” you question, moving in closer to him as well, concern clouding the sparkle in your eyes.

“you’re amazing,” chan blurts out, albeit a little muddled. nothing like the present, yes?

“i—“

“you amaze me,” chan continues. “and you continue to do so after years of us working together and i sometimes wonder”—he grabs a hold of your hand as his starts to shake—“how you do it.” your lips part and chan notices how your chest has stopped moving.

“you’re so charming and just—“ chan lets go of your hand abruptly as he turns away from you, his hand finding its way to his forehead before hanging his head and groaning to himself. he turns back to you, your whole body frozen in place.

“i guess what i’m trying to say is that i l—“

“mr. bang? ms. y/l/n?” one of staff interrupts. you and chan jump away from each other, both awkwardly looking around the hall as blushes form on your cheeks. chan forces himself to make eye contact with the staff member as he rubs the back of his neck. he gives the woman a half hearted smile as he raises an eyebrow.

“we’re ready for you.”

you and chan’s eyes meet as the sentence echoes throughout the hall. he swears under his breath as his shoulders fall, eyes closing as he releases a huff.

“chan,” you mutter, a hint of worry in your voice. he inhales sharply before shaking his head and putting on his best smile for the lady that’s decided to ruin the moment. he nods before closes his fist as he turns toward the door, his jaw clenched. he feels you tug on his sleeve, but he ignores it, heart thumping in his chest as he offers his arm out for you.

“we have to focus now,” chan replies after a short silence. “it’s…it’s not important.”

you don’t say anything else as the atmosphere in the room turns heavy.

for chan, at least.

as the crew finishes up the final preparations around the both of you, you snake your arm around his and chan tries his best not to dampen the mood any further. he straightens his posture, his lips fall in a straight line, and his jaw relaxes as he exhales. and as much as he would hate to admit it, it’s in defeat. yet again.

before he could wallow in his own despair, you ask, “are we dancing tonight, sir?”

it takes a second for him to respond. “unfortunately not, miss y/l/n.”

“not in the mood to show off tonight?”

chan scoffs softly and he hears you giggle. his chest tightens at the sound, yet he appreciates the effort in making the whole situation less awkward than it is. picking up from where the both of you left off, like he wasn’t just about to pour his heart and soul to you.

“i don’t think we need to,” chan plays along. “this party’s for us.”

“us?” you exclaim with a small smile. chan merely nods.

despite the playful banter, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed in himself. why was it so hard to just…say what he needed to say? he can have a ton of scripts at his disposal, but why is it that when he’s in front of you he’s tongue tied? he felt like an idiot, a love-stricken idiot who couldn’t say it straight no matter how much he plans it out.

one question pops up in his slew of thoughts. “if not tonight, then when?”

he may never know the answer to that question. but, one thing is clear to him.

he started this week with some form of optimism that he’ll end up with an actual connection, but now, he feels as if he’s three steps back from his starting position. he sighs internally as he fixes his posture once more. no rest for the weary because the door to the event hall slowly opens and he squints at the light shining right at the two of you. he feels you squeeze his arm gently and he gives you a reassuring look in response.

chan tunes out his thoughts of his failed confessions and his inner voice saying, “next time.” he puts on another smile for the crowd as the both of you start walking in the event hall, the thunderous applause becoming deafening.

here we go again.

#kim tries to write #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #skz fluff #stray kids #skz #bang chan fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #bang chan fanfic

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

Text

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary:

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.}

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it.

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch. If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away. Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p. You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

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