#The Seriously Elegant Noodle

[anotherdescentintomadness]

Wang YiBo X Chanel No.1 — Red Camellia Aesthetic

January 2022

A note on the shoes he’s wearing…

THIS is what he is wearing:

That’s all. That’s the note.

[a-libra-writes]

Ello! may I please request some of the Lackadaisy characters reacting to a ridiculously tall male reader joining their crew?- like hit their head on every doorframe tall?/jk- but in all seriousness, maybe like 8ft or something?

okay im going for like 7ft or so because that SLIGHTLY more reasonable but not by much; idgaf tho this is funny. Also if you will please imagine this as a lanky ass oriental cat a la Pangur of pangur-and-grim fame. also featuring lots of bi cats, because I say so.

Lots under the cut!

♣️Rocky - Oh!! That's a big one! He makes endless "how's the weather up there" jokes (some are so weird) and has lots of ... stories ("St. Louis' very own creature from the river bottoms, only arising when the fog is heaviest!"); it really brings him back to his circus barker days. The first time you picked him up he was momentarily stunned, also he may or may not have climbed up you like a kitten when something startled him. It only happened once, okay? He's also fond of swatting at your absurdly long tail, as in it distracts him mid-sentence and he just has to take a swipe. Look, this probably won't awaken anything in him.

♣️Freckle - First thought? Terrifying, even when you bonked your head pretty bad on the doorframe. Okay, well, you were a little less scary after the third time. He's used to being smaller than most men, but something about you just towering is nothing short of creepy, especially if you have a more tough or intense personality. If you're a kinder soul, Freckle relaxes much faster. When you both have to pile into the back of the car, he feels really awkward about how you have to contort and twist yourself. Jeez, that doesn't look comfortable ... and somehow it makes him feel a lot smaller, which he doesn't appreciate.

♣️Ivy - Omiiigossshhh, the girls at school are not gonna believe this. She beelines to you right away, delighted with the novelty she's discovered. Naturally she wants to dance, and she'd be so shocked and delighted if you were elegant in spite of your lankiness - that'll get her a crush right away. Don't worry, if you're more clumsy, you're still cute! She thinks everything you do is "cute", even if you have the face of a thug and the body of a furry noodle. Having to scoot into cars, towering over the bar when you sit on a stool, your shirt sleeves nearly going to your elbows? Cute! She'd love to buy you something real fancy that fit, she just knows you'd look sharp.

♣️Mitzi - Oh. Oh my. Not her usual taste, but with the right clothes and some pomade, well, you'd be a proper gentleman. Mitzi is already plotting to get you a nice suit made, and good naturedly notes you ought to eat more or the wind will knock you right over. She already feels small next to Atlus and Viktor, but that's doubled with you. Sometimes it makes her a little uncomfortable, but she knows you don't mean to cause the discomfort. If she got you a real nice suit and a gun, you'd be an excellent guard for when she's out and about ...

♣️Viktor - He tries to recall the last time he was this much shorter than someone ... When he was twelve, perhaps? He feels zero intimidation from you, though. Viktor's confident he could snap you in half if need be. Hm, if they got some muscle on you, you might be able to handle some serious firepower... He thinks on it. Oh, and now he isn't the only one having to dodge doorframes. If you're a less violent-inclined person, many times he's growled at you to stop being so slack-jawed and try to look scary, especially when you both are supposed to be guarding.

♣️Zib - Wow yeah okay this is awakening something in him for sure. The musician gets a little hot under the collar when you stand really close and he has to look up, or god forbid, you bend down to his eye level. He has no idea why he's feeling both aroused and terrified, and what that's supposed to mean. Once you said "good boy" as a joke and he nearly tripped and fell off the stage. He's this hopeless even when you're a dork; if you're actually a smooth operator, he's doomed.

♣️Atlas - Yeah, it's not hard to figure out how you stood out to him. You were offered a job, and though you're much lankier than a triggerman out to be, Atlas has plans. Just some fattening up, some practice with a gun and a well-made suit (your Christmas present, in fact), and you cut quite a shadowy figure. The suit is probably the finest one you own, and the only clothing that's fit in years. Mitzi helped choose the color.

🏵️Serafine - She's intrigued right away, which is no surprise. Most people notice you right away, and it's even better if you work for the Marigold gang and she gets to have plenty of time to flirt and bother and amuse you. Serafine is doubly entertained if you're a more clumsy or nervous sort. She loves calling you "le fantôme" or "le boogeyman", and very much admires when you use your height to frighten someone they're having a "talk" with. She has absolutely grabbed your long-ass tail to get your attention.

🏵️Nico - Listen. He's been with men before - not as much as women, mind you, and he's always preferred those who are smaller than him, which is most. But look. You're a tree, he's a squirrel. No shame, you're cute and he'll say it. He can probably pick you up just fine (which he's very proud of) and laughs if it embarrasses you. He's very interested in how you might fight, and has given you several tips on how to use your unusual size to your advantage when going hand-to-hand with someone.

🏵️Mordecai - Yes this is definitely awakening something and he doesnt want to think hard about it also why is EVERY damn person around him a tree -- You drive him up a wall for many reasons. You slouch all the time, your clothes never fit right, you don't carry a gun that would work best for your long fingers. The Savoys joke about you being Mordecai's "project" because he keeps fussing over you. Though they must say, it's a lot easier to get information out of their targets when they have Mordecai's signature glare and a terrifying cryptid looming over him.

⛰️Wick - Oops! All those feelings he's repressed since boarding school are coming out. Note you could be awkwardly trying to get through a doorway or climb out of a car, with clothes that don't fit quite right or trying to finesse a gun that's too small and he is just, totally enamored. If you have more of a scary demeanor - or you put on that act when you're working as Mitzi's bodyguard - then he's still enamored, just with a dash of fear. So. That's confusing.

[rom-e-o]

"New Beginnings and Second Chances" (Ebenezer/Constance)

It's proposal time, all.

I've been tweaking and writing this as an epilogue to "Begin Again", and I think we're ready to share.

Thank you to everyone who has come along on this amazing journey! (Oh, it's not over. We're STILL trucking along strong, but man ... you can't deny that we've come far.)

Enjoy!

Ebenezer Scrooge, on most days, was an exponentially composed man.

He had tackled business negotiations, fortified good clients (while tastefully dismantling the smarmy ones) and cemented deals with estimated costs comprised of more numbers than most phone numbers, plus extensions.

However, on this very morning, the man was practically carving a path into the walnut floors of his home as a result of his pacing. He was in his study, and had been for the better half of the morning, waking and readying himself even before the arrival of his maid, Magda.

The day had come. He was going to do it. It was the second time he’d taken on the upcoming task, and yet this time, he felt more nervous than he had the first time.

He was going to propose to Constance DoGoode – the woman he’d been privileged enough to meet, fall in love with, and even receive her love in return.

He was going to ask her to marry him. To be his … wife.

Gods, the words gave him chills.

“Be steadfast, man,” he mouthed aloud, hand flying to his chest as his heart threatened to burst from his ribcage. It was soaring beneath his fingertips. “Don’t kick the bloody bucket before you even ask her!”

His treacherous heart continued to race, and he resigned himself to stepping close to the window for some fresh air. That actually helped, and he filled his lungs with the green-tinted, early morning haze of the early spring morning.

He’d acquired the ring a few days ago after sneaking one of her other bands to a jeweler to get the correct sizing. Now, every time he glimpsed the glittering stone, it took everything in him to not sod all his proposal plans and fall on one knee at the next sight of her. The ring had been burning a hole in both his pocket and mind since he’d purchased it; the stone seemingly just as excited to sparkle upon her finger as he was to place it upon it.

The ring had been an easy choice. A solitaire, square-cut diamond on a polished gold band. Simple. Elegant. Classy.

He’d known it was the ring from the moment he’d spotted it glittering in the case at the jeweler’s shop. One resize later (using one of her everyday rings that he’d silently apologized for taking from her jewelry box) and it was ready. He fitted it into a blue velvet ring box, and kept it in the very back of the only drawer in his work desk that required a lock to open. Just in case.

The ring, all things considered, had been a straightforward acquisition.

The proposal itself? That was a slightly more complicated matter.

Ebenezer had spent the better part of the last month seriously envisioning different scenarios for how he could pop the question. While the gesture itself had dominated his thoughts for the better half of a year, he’d seriously started noodling around ideas and putting pieces together in recent weeks.

It had to be as perfect as possible, he reasoned. Not so perfect that he put it off forever, of course, but it had to be worthy of her.

It had to be completely different than the experience that rat bastard of an ex-husband had given for her. That meant not proposing in a public place (quite fine with him) and not proposing while stumbling over himself drunk (exceptionally fine with him).

So …

Suddenly, like the first call of a meadowlark ending the silence of night, a knock sounded at the door.

“Mr. Scrooge, sir?”

Without waiting for an answer, another giddy knock came from the other side of his study’s door, the sound practically dancing across the lacquered. He bid the guest entry, knowing it was Magda just from her voice.

When the Hungarian woman slipped inside, an excited grin decorated her face. She practically glided through the door’s crevice, careful to latch the door noiselessly behind her before she spoke. “My stars, sir! Today is the day, is it not?”

He nodded, taking a deep breath as Magda bounced on her heels. After an energetic clap, she reached out to take the man’s hands and give them a reassuring squeeze. “Oh, don’t fret! She’ll say yes!”

He hoped. Gods, he hoped so. He hoped she said yes, and he hoped she said yes out of desire and not obligation, like she had with Orin. Although she loved him, it had been too soon, she’d said.

…Gods, was it too soon for them, too?

No, his mind raced to think, there was no going back. He didn’t want to wait, like he had with Isabel.

No, he had to ask. To make his love known and open. The rest was in her hands.

“I sent for the carriage this morning,” he said, breathy with nervousness, “By the time she awakens and dresses, they should arrive.”

Reaching into his pocket, he procured his silver pocket watch and glimpsed the time. The hands sat at 6:48 a.m. It wouldn’t be long before his love began to stir.

“Shall I prepare any breakfast? Or are you lovebirds going to eat in the coach?”

“Much obliged, Magda, but I went ahead and prepared something.”

She waggled her brow in intrigue. “You.”

He waggled his brow somewhat defensively. “Yes, me, as a matter of fact. Thank you for that sign of confidence.”

“I didn’t know you could cook, sir!”

“Magda, may I remind you that I survived many, many years – decades, actually – without a maid helping me cook? While I am infinitely grateful for all the help you’ve provided me, I assure you I am quite capable of…”

“…”

“…Ethel assisted me. Happy?”

Magda let out an amicable laugh. “Happy, and less worried for the poor lady’s stomach, as well.”

Scrooge hmph!-ed at her playful teasing. He knew her jabs were all in good faith, and presented a welcome distraction from his nervous pacing and racing thoughts. Whether it was intentional or not, he appreciated her company in that moment, just like had every single day he’d had the pleasure of employing her.

“Magda, I—”

Then, the faint sound of creaking stairs from outside the study door caught their attention. Both ceased talking just in time to hear a gentle knock on the study door.

“Come in, love,” Ebenezer called, knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Sure enough, Constance peered in, blue eyes wide and her smile bright, but still a touch sleepy. “Ah, there you both are,” she said, chuckling as she slipped inside, shutting it behind her just as Magda had.

Even fresh from bed, Costance was a sight to behold. Her red hair was pulled back in a loose chignon and fastened with large, satin ribbon. She herself was donned in a blue velvet peignoir with golden trim and matching sash that highlighted the hourglass curve of her waist.

“I must confess, I was a little worried,” she said in an adorable, sleep-bitten rasp. She was still waking up, bless her. The woman had awoken to see that her partner was missing from his side of the bed, and had taken little time to wait before investigating fully. “The house is never so quiet in the morning.”

She’s made the comment as a light joke, but upon seeing the main master and maid of the house gathered together so close in the study, she suddenly lowered her voice in concern. “Is everything alright?”

Before Scrooge could think of an excuse, Magda was quick to the rescue.

“I was just asking Mr. Scrooge if he wouldn’t mind if a took a bit of a last minute day off,” she said, “I have some personal errands and appointments, and thought it might be easier to take a full day than mince apart various other working days.”

She glanced at Ebenezer, giving him a coy smirk that matched the mischievous slant of her eyes. She looked like a tabby that had just filled its cheeks at the nearest birdcage, and gotten away with it, too.

“Why, I believe that sounds like a capital idea,” Scrooge agreed, clapping an agreeable hand over her puff-sleeved shoulder. “After all, the house will be vacant all day today.”

“It will?” Constance asked, her surprise palpable but pleasant.

“Indeed so,” he said, turning to her, hands reaching out to take one of hers. “I’ve arranged a bit of a … surprise for us today. A surprise outing.”

“Oh, really?” A flush of joy made her freckles pop across her sun-kissed cheeks.

He laughed softly, pleased by her excitement. “I’ve prepared breakfast, and a coach should be here on the hour for us. I-If you’d be so kind as to join me, I would be most honored.”

Magda tried hard to not roll her eyes as Constance enthusiastically agreed, both leaning into a embrace and chaste kiss that Magda had the decency to avert her eyes from.

Of course Constance had agreed to the outing, the maid thought secretly. She had no work that day, and when the happy couple wasn’t at work, they were spending time together in some capacity. Reading in the sitting room together, taking a stroll together, sometimes even rowing out on the Serpentine in Hype Park to bask in the sun and watch the swans skate across the waters.

Today was no different, but he had still kindly asked her if she was free to spend time with him.

Silly man, she thought kindly, though the maternal side of her longed to pull them both into a hug and wish them luck. Especially him.

“I’ll get dressed this instant,” Constance said with a nod. “I won’t be long, promise.”

“I’ll help.”

“Oh, Magda, I thought…”

“I’ve got a moment to spare,” she said lovingly, fluttering to the young woman’s side and giving her a nudge. “Come now, let’s make you look like an absolute vision! I have the perfect dress in mind, as well.”

“But…”

“Please, love. It would be my honor.”

As the carriage pulled up to the house and Scrooge loaded the basket and blanket they needed, he called up the stairs for Magda and Constance to come down.

While they waited, he made small talk with the driver, paid him in advance, and offered him a vague outline of the day’s itinerary. As for the directions, he’d scribed those carefully as well, and even provided a map, though the driver gave him a reassuring look.

“Been doin’ this ‘ob for many a year, Mr. Scrooge,” he said, taking a long drag of his pipe at the end. “I’ve got many maps, compasses, and back-ups of all me back-ups. You and yer lady are safe wit’ me.”

Well, he had hired the best, he reasoned. It seemed the sterling reputation of the driver and business was true, even if the man himself was a little rough around the edges. “Good man. Thank you again. Oh, um…here’s some breakfast for the road.”

Scrooge handed him a slab of cheese and an entire loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth. This excited the driver more than the directions. “Cheers, mate! I’ll take th’ smoothest paths for you and yer lady!”

“Much obliged.”

“Oh, and betw’n you and me, feel free to close those curtains if you lot would pr’fer some alone time, yeah? I can’t hear a peep fro’ where I’m sittin’.”

“…I’ll remember that.”

He would not act on that, but he supposed the gesture was … kind? Thoughtful? It was something, he ultimately decided.

While the conversation with the driver had been interesting in and of itself, all memory of the conversation seemed to fly out of his head as Magda rushed out with Constance on her arm.

As always, Magda met and exceeded expectations by leaps and bounds.

Dressed in a gown of chocolate brown satin with golden-white petticoats shimmering beneath the skirts, Constance stepped carefully down the stone steps of the house, her heels a matching shade of deep coffee. A matching shawl, trimmed with pearly fringe, concealed her shoulders from the morning chill. Her hair was adorned with a white ribbon nestled in a perfect bow in the back, the curls falling in loose spirals around her shoulders.

He noted that she also wore the freshwater pearl earrings and choker that he’d gotten her for her birthday a few months ago. Also, on her right ring finger, a fire opal ring she had inherited from her father blazed brilliantly. She rarely wore the piece, treasuring the item too much to risk losing it.

Magda really had worked her magic.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much?” Constance asked as she plucked at the skirt of her dress. Magda distracted her tentative movements by helping her into a pair of satin gloves, occupying her fingers for a moment. “This dress is beautiful, but is it too much for…um …”

She laughed and glanced at him somewhat bashfully. “Oh … I just realized I never even asked you where we were going.”

Gods, she was lovely, he thought.

“A picnic,” he supplied vaguely, almost breathless as he took in the sight of her. “And no. P-Please don’t change. You look absolutely beautiful…and you’re comfortable, yes?”

“Oh, very comfortable.”

“Then that’s what matters.”

Prudence bounded down the stairs, barking excitedly at the sight of the sleek, cherrywood carriage.

Of course, she would be invited along for the proposal. Why, it was largely because of Prudence that he and Constance had bumped into each other in the first place on that fateful December day, as he’d been in the butcher buying bones for her. As sch, it seemed only right for her to be present on the day that he asked Constance to be a part of his life for the remainder of his days.

Seeming to sense the importance of the occasion, she trotted up to her master and pawed at his leg.

Scrooge chuckled, then opened the door so she could hop in. “Go on, Prudence.”

After an excited spin, she leapt up and instantly made herself comfortable on one of the long, leather-clad benches, just beside the picnic basket and rolled up blanket. The mastiff flopped down and let out a satisfied huff.

Thank goodness he’d sprang for the larger cab, he thought as he surveyed the remaining space.

“We may need to cozy up just a tad for the trip,” Ebenezer warned Constance playfully. She returned an amused look, her smile only broadening when she peeked into the carriage and saw Prudence curled up on the opposite bench.  

After bringing Constance her purse (which contained only her pillbox, a book of poetry she’d been reading, a money clip, and some rouge), Magda then turned her attention to him. She helped Ebenezer slip into his black overcoat, smoothing the fabric as she did so. She also produced his top hat and cane, which she’d pulled from the entryway closet ahead of time.

As she skimmed the lapels of his coat with her fingers to make sure they laid flat and symmetrically, she gave him one last, reassuring stare, the burning resolve in her eyes all the more magnified by the thick lenses on her spectacles.

He took one last deep breath …and nodded.

“Right. T-Time to go.”

Assuming his post at the carriage’s open door, he extended a hand to Constance. Slowly, he helped her mount the step to the cab.

Once she was seated, he slotted himself into the space beside her.

“We’ll be back before sunset!” he called before shutting the door. He gave her one last wave.

“Have fun, you two!” Magda called innocently, stealing a handkerchief from her apron pocket to wave as the driver snapped the reins and the carriage rolled forth across the cobbled roadway. “Be good! I won’t wait up!”

Prudence let out another bark, and Constance leaned out the carriage window to wave excitedly. The maid also saw the woman lose her balance, and Ebenezer’s arms frantically circle her to pull her back to safety.

As soon as the cart was out of sight, Magda was off like a shot back inside. She raced to grab her coat and hat, practically flinging them on her body. The maid didn’t even bother to check her reflection as she shimmied down the strop steps of the house and made her way down Lime Street and into the churning streets of Cornhill. The woman had a few key destinations in mind.

First, she’d traverse Lime Street to a residential neighborhood a few blocks over, where Harry and Hela lived.

Then, she’d wind her way through the alleyways and cobbled roadways until she reached Camden Town.

 The carriage ride out of town lasted all but two hours, but inside the cab, the minutes all but flew by.

The couple shared bites of breakfast (orange peel-flecked scones that he’d practiced in secret for days) and read passages from the small book of poetry Constance had tucked into her purse.

« Mon bras pressait ta taille frêle Et souple comme le roseau; Ton sein palpitait comme l’aile D’un jeune oiseau. »

« Longtemps muets, nous contemplâmes Le ciel où s’éteignait le jour. Que se passait-il dans nos âmes ? Amour! Amour! »

« Comme un ange qui se dévoile, Tu me regardais, dans ma nuit, Avec ton beau regard d’étoile, Qui m’éblouit. »

Ebenezer pronounced the words graciously are carefully, Constance using her French lessons from long past to speak alongside him.

“It has been quite a while since I’ve spoken French,” he admitted, “Not since I was a boy, reading some of the classics for my studies. I fear I’m rusty in the romance languages.”

“You are doing well,” Constance enthused.

Ebenezer knew Constance was fluent In English and Dutch, but Frensh was a … more recreational language for her. A nifty party trick, although it was a vast help in situations just as this, where they crowded over a small book and took great care to read the delicate writing accurately.

“My arm clasped your fragile waist that’s supple as a reed; Your breast beat like the wing Of a young bird.

“In a long silence we contemplated The sky where the day was fading away. What was happening in our souls? Love! Love!

“Like an angel who reveals herself, You looked at me, in my night, With your beautiful star’s gaze, Blinding me with … light.”

A comfortable silence settled over them as the words lingered a beat.

“I do so love that one,” she said with a dreamy, wavering sigh. “Especially the ending.”

“Very beautiful indeed,” Ebenezer husked, deepening his voice to a burr to attract her attention. When she glanced up and saw the smirk upon his visage, seeing only her own reflection in his icy eyes, her cheeks bloomed with pleasant color.

All the while, the sun continued to climb in the sky outside. By the time they near the spot that Ebenezer had directed the driver to, it was nearly midday.

Another turn of the page, and Ebenezer spotted a familiar piece of literature. “Venus and Adonis, by Shakespeare.”

“Oh, that one is wonderful, but quite long,” Constance chuckled.

“Certainly longer than his most famous sonnets,” he said, “Sonnet 29 comes to mind. Shorter … and easier for a man to memorize and recite to his lovely lady.”

His last remark harbored just enough cheekiness for her to wonder how many men he’d witnessed recite the same sonnet over and over across the city during romantic, spring days. Probably dozens, she thought in intrigue and amusement.

“I saw it performed a few summers ago in New York. By a theater troupe in Central Park. They memorized the entire thing – amazingly impressive for such green performers! A duo, in fact.”

It was a tragic poem, of course. It was also an erotic epic. Not necessarily appropriate for the occasion. Still, right as she was about to close the book, he reached out and paused her. With the tap of his finger, he urged her eyes to fall upon a specific passage.

She read:

“Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:  

“A summer’s day will seem an hour but short…”

As the words finished leaving her painted lips, he leaned down and placed the gentlest of kisses upon her mouth. In that moment, the sentiment on the parchment manifested into warm, breathing reality.

“Now that,” he said, reaching up and thumbing the curls about her cheeks, “Reminds me of today.”

She blinked slowly. Again, dreamily. “Does it, my Adonis?”

An airy chuckle left him, but his fingers tightened their grip just slightly. He did grip her tight, he held her tight. “With you, the hours blend into beautiful, fleeting moments. Evey second with you feels…healing.”

He thought of yet another line from the poem: “Love comforteth like sunshine after rain.”

A perfect summary, he thought as he leaned in again, kissing the tip of her nose. “My Venus.”

A few precious moments later, the couple heard the driver gently urge his horses to a gentle stop. They obeyed with a few clicks of the man’s tongue, and once they were fully stopped on a well-trodden side path, the driver alerted them of their arrival.

“Splendid,” Ebenezer said, praying his voice didn’t convey the nervousness he felt. “Shall we?”

He opened the door to allow Prudence to jump out (which she eagerly did). As the mastiff busied herself biting at butterflies and rolling in the dust like a chipmunk, Ebenezer stepped out and instantly felt the heat of the sun above them. It was considerably warmer than it had been the morning before.

He shed his hat and coat, leaving them in the carriage with his cane.

Constance followed suit by shedding her shawl, then tilted her head back in bliss as she stepped into the sun. “Mm. Warm.”

Sun was a rarity in England, he noted. It was rare to see the sun or moon in their true glory.

In that moment, she appeared to be drinking in the light, her tanned skin and vibrant hair giving the blazing a star a run for its money in radiance.

“Here we are, lovebirds,” the driver said, giving his horses a pat as they dipped their heads to graze. “Spot to ya likin’, Mr. Scrooge?”

“Very much so. Much obliged.”

Just like before, he reached into the basket and produced some food and drink to help bide the time while they made merry, so to speak.

Surprised and pleased by the next round of gifts, the man took a large bite of a mincemeat pastry from his share before waving the couple off and telling them to “have a bit o’ nanty narking, ya hear! I won’t ‘ell, haha!”

Constance gave Ebenezer a playful grin while he blushed red as a beet.

“T-Thank you, sir,” he mumbled, ushering Constance away with one arm while carrying their picnic basket with the other.

 The air was scented with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, and the distant melody of birdsong accompanied their amicable conversation as Ebenezer led her up an ambling stone path to the spot he’d picked. Their destination was atop an overlook with a perfect view of the swaying fields for miles around, different patches dotted with clouds of fresh blossoms.

The couple set up their spot, then sat on a blanket spread across the lush grass, surrounded by the serenity of nature. The smog and incessant chatter of the city was long forgotten as they basked in the aroma of sun-warmed wildflowers and relaxed to the melody of the babbling brook nearby.

As they enjoyed a picnic of sandwiches, fruits, and a bottle of sparkling cider, Ebenezer couldn't shake the anticipation bubbling within him. For the entire duration of their outing, he stole glances at Constance. In fact, he would have been hard pressed to remove his gaze from her on any occasion, and especially in this moment and setting. It was a scene he knew he didn’t want to forget for the rest of his days alive, and as he drank in the details of her, he knew he never would.

By the time they’d finished eating, they lounged for a while against the shade of the oak, even making a trip to a nearby stream to dance in the ankle-deep water and splash around a bit. Prudence even followed, running circles in the riverbank under her entire belly and paws were dripping with river water and mud.

When they returned from that, lazily strolling up the hill hand-in-hand, it was the golden hour of sunset.

In the halo of warm light that radiated from the horizon’s dark edge, it was a treat marveling at the way the sunlight played in her hair, making it glow like strands of molten bronze. The way her cornflower eyes glittered like the sea captivated him further.

A moment of silene stretched between them … and with the sun slowly vanishing, he knew the seconds of his opportunity were literally ticking away.

Constance, catching the anxious way Ebenezer fumbled for his coat, glanced over. “Are you alright, love? Are you cold?"

Love. The endearment bolstered his resolve.

“Quite alright,” he said. “In fact, I’ve never been happier.”

Ebenezer took a deep breath, steadying his nerves.

Something touched her expression as she realized when was happening. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes widened almost knowingly, the blue color shining like the isles of Neptune.

Now or never, he thought.

“Constance. The Christmas of my 50th birthday, I…became a changed man. I realized the error of my ways, and became transformed. I realized that I’d wasted much of my life in misery, content to be alone and deprive others, and myself, of happiness. I remember thinking that I would never go back.

“Then, the moment we met, you did the impossible … you transformed my life again. Since then, you've brought … warmth to the coldest corners of my heart, and every day with you feels like a gift. A gift that was almost stolen away by circumstance …”

Stolen away by a past of abuse, falsified medical records, a razor blade, and a man with eyes like the coldest fog.

“As turbulent as the start of our time together was, facing those trials, it made me realize that parting ways from you was never even a consideration. Even if we only remained friends or coworkers, you were always in my future in some capacity. As we continued to court, I stopped imagining you as just a coworker or friend, or even as just a lover. I-I know some might roll their eyes at the ide of a man of my age wanting such pomp and circumstance, but…I do.

“I’ve thought of little else in the past few weeks … hell, honestly, the past few months. What would life without you be like? I … can’t fathom it. Or if I could, I can’t bear the thought of it.”

Sensing the weight of his words, she nodded with a nervous swallow. “A-And I can't imagine mine without you, Ebenezer.”

With a tender smile, Ebenezer reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. The sight of it made Constance's breath catch.

He opened the box to reveal a delicate ring, the sunlight catching on the glimmering diamond in the middle.

“Constance, my angel,” Ebenezer began, his voice filled with emotion, “I-I never thought I’d ask this question of another, but I have to know. I must. W-Would you do me the honor of remaining by my side, in spirit and name? Will you marry me?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. His emotions were suspended in stasis as well.

Then, a wave of joy swept over her face, and she nodded, tears of happiness glistening in her eyes.

“I-I will.”

He blinked, huffing out a laugh. “You will.”

“Yes! Ebenezer, a thousand times yes!”

A delighted smile broke across Ebenezer's face as he took the ring from the box. Laughing in equal parts disbelief and bliss, he leaned forward to meet her as she rushed to kiss him.

Prudence, who had been watching from the edge of the blanket, barked in excitement as the two kissed, arms wrapping around each other and holding on tight.

“Oh, thank you,” he praised, lips moving against hers. “I’ll be good to you, my angel. I promise with all my heart.”

“I know you will.” Her tears, warm and fresh, fell upon their laps. “I-I know. Oh, I’ve dreamed of this.”

“You have?”

In tandem, sharing a desire, their raised their hand in tandem to entwine their fingers.

“Y-Yes, and today…it’s been even more perfect than I ever imagined,” she confessed, bumping their noses together as another joyful sob threatened to clench her.

A pause. Then, her fingers gripped his arm firmly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “It’s just … m-me? Are you certain?”

A redheaded New Yorker of questionable pedigree, former socialite and divorcee, married to a wealthy Englishman and philanthropist. It was certainly an eye-catching combination, he supposed, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Absolutely yes,” he replied, voice breaking at the sight of her tears. He brandished a handkerchief and dabbed them away, pepping her forehead with more kisses all the while. “I’m beyond certain. You have my heart, Connie.”

Gently, he slid the ring onto Constance's finger, sealing their promise beneath the setting sun.

“And you have mine.”

With another kiss, their commitment was sealed.

From afar, the Scrooge manor looked quite vacant. No lights shined from inside, no smoke plumed from the chimney, and no shadows busied themselves beyond the windows. It was almost an uncanny sight.

“Goodness, it looks so ominous from here,” Constance joked, arm-in-arm with her fiancé as the carriage approached the estate. As the sun had dipped below the horizon, and they reentered the scrutinizing eyes of the city limits, they donned all their proper layers.

“It used to always look this dour, I’m shamed to admit,” he said, giving her hand an affectionate pat “We’ll fix that straightaway once we’re indoors. Get a good fire going – well, maybe just some candles. It’s a little warm.”

“Too warm for celebratory glass of wine?”

“Oh, never too warm for that! Especially on such an occasion.”

“I think you’re quite right,” she agreed, eyeing a very muddy Prudence from across the car. She lifted her heeled shoe and gave the mastiff a light tap. “And you need a bath, miss. I don’t think it would be very comfortable to sleep in muddy fur, yes?”

Averting her eyes (as if that made her invisible), she pretended to not hear the woman’s theory. In turn, the couple chuckled at the sight.

The carriage pulled up to the house, right under the light of a gas lamp to provide better visibility. Ebenezer, having redonned his coat and top hat, stepped out with his cane in hand. Then, he helped Constance out. In the process, he glimpsed the sight of the dazzling ring upon her still ungloved hand, and his heart started up again.

The ring also caught the attention of the driver, who let out a whistle. “Oi, hearty congratulations ar’ in or’da to ye both!”

After a few last goodbyes, the driver tipped his hat one last time and wheeled himself away into the foggy night.

There, they stood before his home, arm-in-arm again. He carried the dirty, rolled-up blanket and while carried their now empty basket.

After a glimpse to make sure they were truly alone on the quiet street, they shared a lingering, public kiss. It was the kind that always sent Beryl and her boys reeling when they did it outside the privacy of their bedroom.

As they parted, he offered her a grin and squeeze of the arm.

“Welcome home, Mrs. DoGoode-Scrooge.”

She returned his affection with a gleaming smile of her own. She noted that he’d included her maiden name, her father’s name, in the title. If possible, that sentiment was the final, stone-enforced in the proud, tall tower of certainty.

“It is my honor to bear the name, and have the heart of the man who gave it to me,” she replied.

Giggling like excited teenagers, they shimmied up the stone stairs leading to the massive front door. He fished out the substantial key from his coat pocket and slipped it in, the tumblers of the lock giving way with the same, comforting melody they always had.

They opened the door, expecting the same darkness within that they’d glimpsed from the outside.

Yet, once the door opened, the room lit up as the gas-burning chandelier roared to life. The rest of the wide foyer was decorated with glittering, gold crepe paper and vases bursting with fresh lilies, daisies and sunny daffodils from the flower market.

Friends and family stood shoulder to shoulder around the circumference of the room, clapping and cheering as they came through the door.

The Cratchit children jumped up in greeting from behind one of the chamber’s marble-top tables, and Beryl’s gang of boys cheers from the railed hallway overhead, clapping and cheering as if they’d just watched an amazing stuntman at one of the London fairs.

“Surprise!”

Magda, looking pleased as punch, uncorked a bottle of icy prosecco from the cellar with a swift yank of the corkscrew. “There you are, the two turtledoves!”

Tim, who saw Scrooge as a second father, ran to the man and hugged him. “Congratulations, Mr. Scrooge! You’re gonna be a good husband, I know it!”

He was too overjoyed to be stunned for long, the man’s heart melted as he returned the boy’s hug with a tight embrace of his own. “Thank you, my boy.”

“Congrats, Miss Connie,” the blond boy turned and said sweetly. “You’re going to be a mighty pretty bride.”

She dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her fingertips. “Thank you, Tim.”

“C-Can we see your ring?” Kathy asked timidly, fiddling with the end of one of her braid as she approached.

“Yes, the ring!” Martha echoed excitedly, her chignon bouncing as she danced closer.

Constance nodded and held her hand aloft. Immediately, an audience gathered around her.

“Blimey, girl, that’s a stunner,” Tom Jenkins noted, appraising the gem with a keen eye. “Good job, mate.”

“Oh, it’s positively beautiful, uncle!” Harry agreed, before breaking away to pull the former curmudgeon of a man into a teary bear hug. “I-I never thought I’d see the day! My uncle getting married to a woman he loves! Oh, the way my mother must be smiling now!”

“H-Harry, ow.”

Meanwhile, Bob and Ethel embraced Constance tightly, Ethel pecking her cheek joyfully. “Oh, a wedding! I hope you know that Hela and I would be absolutely enthralled to help, my pet.”

“Indeed,” said woman agreed, her earrings jingling in agreement as she nodded her head. “I know you’ve done this before in New York – getting married I mean, but it’s intimidating to do in a new country! I would be honored to provide the names of those Harry and I worked with and found pleasant. I’m also happy to share a list of those I did not enjoy working with, haha.”

“Oh, that would be very helpful! Thank you both, truly.”

Constance then turned her attention to Magda, smirking and giving out crystal flutes of prosecco to guests.

She paused at Constance, their eyes meeting in a moment of understanding. The redhead flew to embrace her tightly, skirts swinging around her ankles. “This morning. You knew.”

Magda patted the redhead’s back affectionately. “I did, love. I’ve known for a while, in fact.”

“Have you?”

“I knew it the day you came to live with us,” she said, “The day your former husband’s boat left that dock, I knew you’d never leave. I know I’m always right, but I’m extra pleased about it this time.”

She laughed airily, but the way her grip tightened was sincere in the deepness of her gratitude. “Thank you.”

Nodding between happy tears, Ebenezer came behind Constance to lay a delicate hand upon her shoulder. She stepped away at that moment, now wanting to detain Magda for uncomfortably long, and accepted a flute of celebratory bubbly eagerly. She also passed one to Ebenezer, who kissed the top of her hand in thanks.

Errol, Magda’s ballet dancer husband, passed out cider to the young children in small, purple-tinted glasses. He’d also had the good sense to wrap Prudence in a thick pestemal to protect the guests. It would take only one shake for the guests, and wallpaper, to become polka-dotted in pattern.

Once all the glasses were passed out, Ebenezer hoisted his high. Everyone followed, anxious for the former miser’s toast.

“Everyone, to each other,” he said, wrapping an arm around Constance’s waist and glancing down to meet her gaze. “To second chances and new beginnings.”

She then glanced around the room, taking care to make eye contact with each smiling face. Each person who had helped her. Each soul that had believed in her, and her redemption.

“To second chances and new beginnings,” Constance agreed proudly, tapping her glass against his. “And all those who help us find them.”

Thank you to everyone for your support, likes, comments and more: @quill-pen, @crimson-phantom-designs, @thedivinelights, @alolaamii, @bluestarliight, @vixx-ari, @ray-painter, @shipshroom, @akitauma, @blueapplesiren,

I see you and appreciate you! <3

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

noodles are my comfort food and its the kind of the day where im seriously considering making smth with noodles tonight, just to . idk. cheer myself up. i havent had any noodles in two days too. a good argument in favour of this plan imo. im severly underfed on noodles. maybe with cucumbers and black vinegar. nobody calls it black vinegar i just invented that. but it wouldnt be unreasonable to call it that way either. its a black type of vinegar. that sounds so elegant agdgdh. lets have some delectable black vinegar to go with the cheese

[eldritch-spouse]

Gallon slitplay? 🥺 👉👈

Needing to crouch in front of him to grab something beneath the bar. While you're there you just plant a quick kiss on it. A minute later he's melting on the bar and you're tongue-deep in him.

[It's a sticky slit, for sure. Implied fem reader.]

TW: Choking; Soft elements of body horror(?); Short description of past violence.

You should know better than to play with fire.

Gallon is good at lulling someone into a false sense of security. And given his line of work, you shouldn't really be surprised by that. After all, grass is green, the sky is blue, and barmen are dirty weasels.

Yet still, the privileges you had been afforded ever since you started "behaving" kept you high. The slime is a materialistic man, you were dressed fancy everyday if he could help it, touched to perfection, like a caricature of glamor and dignity, in furs and feathers and pearls, all the sweet things he could get you to try on. And even if this isn't really how you used to dress on a daily basis, something in you has started to enjoy it, if only because he'll spare you these long, intense looks while he works. Full of promise, full of love. You're a beam of light to Gallon, or so he's told you, and there's nothing prettier than you smiling at him atop his balcony.

Some days however, you tend to get a little too confident in your own control of the situation, which Gallon both keenly perceives and allows. After all, you're easier to manage when you think you're in on top of things, and as long as your stunts are harmless, the slime is content to humor most of them. Most.

See, a teasing game has developed between the two of you lately. A days-long challenge in an effort to see who caves to the other faster, who begs for it, abstinence and teasing are key. You're no master of self-control, but neither is the slime. His poker face may be commendable, yet he has many tells, if you pay attention. Delight and titillation are presented via the curling of his noodle-like extremities, stress and irritation cause the monster's body to shift more regularly, darker spots morphing from side to side, dripping to and fro faster. Even that sort of pendulum above his head, which you can't decipher the purpose of beyond giving him a a silly look, it too tends to emote more than his face.

Point being, you know you get to him when you bend down, when you lean over the counter to fetch a glass for him, when you climb onto it to reach the ceiling rack and end up providing the monster a stupendous view of laced panties. The only thing you haven't tried thus far is to invite others into the game, something you've been seriously warned about before. Matter of fact, you'll never forget the sensation of his tentacle coiling over your arm hard enough to start cutting blood flow off, making the limb swell and fall asleep. You remember how hard you cried then, truly believing you were about to lose your arm for a silly stunt.

You know better now.

Thing is, you're cracking as well. With every display you make, Gallon's two steps ahead of you, all subtle insinuations and elegant rejections- Touches never more than featherlight. Patient, calculating. Either you pull another idea out or he ends up winning at this rate.

Oh, nothing can quite compare to the joy you feel when someone asks for a specific drink Gallon usually keeps behind the counter. There's always a series of commonly sought-after brands he has stock of at all times, kept at a tendril's length. All you'd have to do is reach down before he can, it's that simple. Your golden opportunity, yes.

" No no- I'll get that! "

Dashing forward quicker than the slime can move, which is not an easy feat, you start looking through the numberless bottles hidden away. Perfectionist, organized monster that Gallon is, he would be able to fetch this in a blink. But you, untrained and oblivious, feel like a donkey staring at a palace, the fancy calligraphy of each brand blending together in an ambiguous, sparkling mess. It's getting on the slime's nerves, if the way he scoots progressively closer is any indication.

" Cherry please, I have this under control- "

" Got it! " You interrupt, reaching for a dark, elegantly-shaped glass container. In a split second blur of movement, you turn, lean your head up, and plant a single kiss on a hidden slit.

Chaste but effective. Serves him right.

As if nothing transpired, you quickly rise and adjust your clothes. " Here you go, sir! " Said cheerfully towards the tiny white monster with gray gloves.

" Eh, thanks... " There's an odd look in his face, but you know he couldn't have seen what you did, the counter covered it all, plus he's so short. It's only when you turn to look at Gallon that you realize why he's got that expression, because the barman is looking at you with a blazing intensity. You can't even read that face, it's got to be some mixture of irritation and contemplation. A single bead of sweat runs down the side of your head while the pale monster takes his drink and hops off the stool, having sensed something amiss likely.

" That was a bold move. " The slime starts as soon as that little episode transpires, his knubby whiskers twitch while he idly reaches for the glass rack.

" Well someone has to keep you on your toes, right? "

It's a success, he's blushing, oh ever so slightly, but you can see it, and that's what matters. Having taken your victory and intending to savor it like a fine wine, the finest of any wines he could have hanging around in fact, you start to saunter away.

Until something coils around your neck.

" Hm? Where do you think you're going? "

" W- What? " Maybe you should have seen this coming.

" You've made a mess of my counter cabinets, you should fix it, no? "

Oh.

" W- Well I- " Maybe a witty answer would have come to you more easily if he wasn't radiating so much tension.

The tendril at your neck, not choking yet but certainly warning, slowly nudges you downward, you follow until you're couched back by the drinks, tossing your heels away because they're starting to hurt. Perhaps it was worth it, because you get to see the spot where you planted a kiss, stained with your vibrant lipstick.

Hah! Like a claim. The ones he's so eager to leave on your body. And just like that, all the confidence seeps back into your form.

" Oh dear, there's a smudge. " Lidded eyes glance up, catching his dominant attitude falter. " Let me clean my mess, pay no heed to me. "

Gripping those slippery thighs, you drag your tongue up the mark left on him, adding maybe a little more pressure than necessary, but hey- You have to take it off, don't you? Singular laps turn into messy nuzzling, the flat of your tongue claiming as much of that twitching slit as it can. It's always been extremely fascinating how his form molds naturally to you. You can't simply pet Gallon's shoulder without it seemingly clinging to you when you pull away. And yet, there's not a stain on his surroundings. He picks and chooses the consistency of his own body, yet apparently, there will always be sticky spots, like his holes, including the one you're playing with.

It's odd, you'll admit. The more you kiss and lick at him, the more his form fluctuates, strings of him stick to your lips and chin, it's almost funny. The slime's figure deforms ever so slightly, covering your fingers, swallowing them into his legs in an effort to keep you anchored to him. It might not be noticeable to others, but you can feel him shivering from time to time, the quietest of gasps flowing out while he handles new orders as best as he can.

A harsh suck against that entrance rips the first real noise out of the bartender, this lovely, surprised grunt while he bucks forward, a wet pap ringing out. Interesting. You repeat the motion, smiling as Gallon clearly bends over the counter from the sensation. " Hhn- Shit! "

It must have been minutes of you torturing the slime, just stealing saliva-soaked samples of him, before you actually reach for his insides, this shuddering moan coming from him as his entire form appears to ripple in satisfaction. You'd worry for his reputation, if not for the fact that this is already a shameless place. You've apparently teased the bartender long enough that the tentacle hidden away in that pouch is already poking around, eagerly feeling your tongue, grabbing, coiling around it as if to drag the wet muscle in further. Unfortunately, as a human, your poor tongue can only go so far.

This feels a lot like exceptionally messy French-kissing, with a peculiar taste. Gallon's flexible cock tries desperately to pull you in further so it can have more stimulus, and you respond by stroking your tongue around the ridges you can find, only ever pulling away to breathe deep and return before that appendage can get the bright idea to pop out. You're not sure who's blushing harder, the overheated slime, or your slightly air-deprived self, both locked in this mock-kiss while Gallon tries, so poorly, to pretend all is fine.

You can't help but moan when, instead of trying to pull you in, that tendril now seeks to shove your tongue back so it can get inside you instead, poking into the warmth of your mouth and steadily feeding more of itself forward.

" Fffuck, I'll cum like that Cherry. "

Well, that is the point. How else will you win?

The more he tries to slide down your throat, now using spare tendrils to keep your head in place, the more you have no choice but to choke and drool, apparently only arousing him more. You may not be able to see it, but Gallon is hardly holding up any better, having stopped working completely to slump on his own counter and attempt to hide his teary eye.

" What's the matter with you? " A new voice is heard, sounding particularly annoyed, a tenor you're familiar with. The angel. " Do you know how much harder it is to do my job when you're slacking off on-... Are you crying? "

Honestly, you're the one that's crying, even if a slime's cock is usually malleable, he's still using your throat none too gently, not even having to move his hips too much for that appendage to pound and writhe away.

Gallon muffles a whine with a weird cough. " ... No? " So convincing.

" ... Let me see your face. "

Oh, this is getting funny.

" Is there reall- Ah- No one else you can bother right now? "

There's a commotion, you're pretty sure the angel is reaching for Gallon. Some even nastier part of you takes over and you start bobbing in tandem with the slime's frantic motions, wanting to tip him over as hard and quickly as possible so that when Belo finally grabs his face, he'll get to see-

" Ohh ff- Hahh-! "

There. Making sure to rub him with your tongue, you let the barman snap his hips into your face, swallowing the first loads he has to give before pulling away, much to his audible displeasure, so the rest of it can paint you better than any makeup he gifts you.

You glance up just in time to see the slime's half-melted, blissed out face, held by the winged being who is now gawking at your stained self while you milk the rest of your monster's climax. " Hi Belo. " You chirp.

The angel's head flickers between you and the slime, who only shrugs and grins at him, before he peels his hands back, as if touching Gallon had burnt him. The bartender wobbles in place before slapping onto the back of the bar, decompressing in the wake of his orgasm while you giggle loudly at his antics.

" You're both irredeemable excuses of people, I can't believe this, honestly, on the job- "

Belo's slightly flustered grumbling while he forcibly separates two bar flies caught in a fight fades to nothing for the two of you. Gallon glares playfully at your smug self, fetching a spare towel to clean you with.

" This is far from over. "

Oh, you don't doubt that.

[justagalwhowrites]

WIP Wednesday

No one tagged me but it's been a minute since I posted because vacation (I seriously wrote so little over the last week, it was so strange but also so nice to unplug!) and I wanted to put this out there.

Yearling is going to wrap up before this posts but I was noodling on The Savage and the Sanctuary on the plane (because Yearling isn't... um... something I can write in public at the moment.) Please enjoy bodyguard!Joel encountering our reader for the first time :)

Joel recognized you immediately, everything about you seeming to have been built to be remembered. Your face, your voice, the way you held yourself, no wonder he always remembered you, no wonder his daughter had been obsessed with you. Your face was a poster on her wall, a picture where you had the slightest, confident smile on your lips but your eyes always seemed sad. You turned those eyes to him, ranging over him like you were taking stock and Joel’s heart stuttered before your gaze turned to Tommy and back to Sharon.  “So glad you got the meeting started without me,” you said, all saccharine sweetness, stepping over Joel’s legs and sitting down on the edge of the couch between him and Tommy. You crossed one elegant leg over the other - your pants ever so slightly sheer so Joel could just make out your thigh below the loose fabric - and leaned forward, taking Joel’s white china coffee cup off the table and helping yourself to a sip with a jingle of your bangles that were piled high on your wrists. You gave him a wink as you did, setting the cup back on its saucer before leaning onto your leg, your arms folded in front of you. “I’m sure the fact that I didn’t know it was happening has nothing to do with wanting to cut me out of the decision making for something that’s going to be apparently integral to my life over the next year.” 

NP Tags: @beardedjoel @sawymredfox @burntheedges @beskarandblasters and anyone else who wants to play!

[rockislandadultreads]

Book Recommendations: National Soup Month

Healing Herbal Soups by Rose Cheung & Genevieve Wong

Combining the trends of culinary medicine and seasonal eating and adding a dash of Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), Healing Herbal Soups is the first book of its kind to focus on boosting immunity and weathering the seasons, by a mother-daughter, Chinese-American duo. Rose and Genevieve have been making Chinese herbal soups in their kitchens all their lives. They made broths to help their bodies adapt to the seasons, and now, for the first time, they’re translating these traditional recipes - all of which have been vetted by Dr. Shiu Hon Chui, a preeminent TCM doctor, researcher, and professor - into English.

Healing Herbal Soups provides a complete herbal encyclopedia and more than fifty tasty recipes - with full-color photographs - that mix herbs with meat and vegetables to create healing broths. These easy-to-follow recipes are here for you whenever you feel unwell, or if you’re just looking to add healthy soups to your weekly meal rotation. Armed with an introduction to TCM and special sections on tea, ginger, and ginseng, as well, at last, you can feel less dependent on Western concoctions of drugs and chemicals, and start using traditional Chinese herbs right in the comfort of your own home.

All Time Best Soups edited by Cook’s Illustrated

A perfect soup recipe is one you make forever - it is comforting, nourishing, the very essence of flavor. In this handsome, focused cookbook, the experts at Cooks Illustrated boil the world of soups down to the very best choices, each one a kitchen-tested keeper yielding flavors that exceed even what grandma cooked up. Here are the ideal broths, the heartiest rustic soups, most elegant purees, and the best examples from around the world. All-Time Best Soups turns soup-making into an everyday pleasure with recipes guaranteed to become cherished favorites.

Soup & Comfort by Pamela Ellgen

The answer to your dinnertime dilemma. Family-friendly soups to satisfy your soul - and stomach. To close the coldest, bone-chilling day or soothe the roughest afternoon, turn to Soup & Comfort for hearty classics, international favorites, and inventive updates. Packed with pages of nourishing, emotionally satisfying soups and stews using affordable, fresh, easy-to-find ingredients (No bouillon cubes here!), every recipe in this soup cookbook caters to a wide variety of dietary preferences and tastes, from tantalizing vegetarian versions to gluten-free options.

Featuring full-color photos, Soup & Comfort explores the many ways that homemade soup can nourish body and soul, with: 135 mouthwatering recipes, from comfort classics like Grandma's Chicken Noodle to international flavors like Chicken Faux Pho; time-saving tips for making great stocks and preparing perfect garnishes; and convenient "fix-and-forget" slow cooker recipes, plus handy soup tips to liven leftovers. From chilled soups to chowders, Soup & Comfort offers something for everyone to enjoy-one spoonful at a time.

Seriously Good Chili Cookbook by Brian Baumgartner

No one takes chili more seriously than Brian Baumgartner, whose character as Kevin Malone became a household name in the Emmy-winning TV series, The Office. In real life, Brian is a true chili master and aficionado who is just as serious as his fictional counterpart about making the most perfect pot of chili.

Featuring 177 chili recipes stamped with Brian's "seriously good" approval rating, Seriously Good Chili Cookbook contains new and inventive ways to spice up chili for all occasions, all year long. Written in the humorous and friendly tone Brian Baumgartner is known and loved for, this engaging cookbook opens with an introduction from Brian about how an infamous 60-second scene from the show transformed him into a chili icon, his passion for chili, and a fascinating account of the history of his all-time favorite comfort food.

The Chicken Soup Manifesto by Jenn Louis

This is a celebration of one of the most widely interpreted, and beloved dishes the world over. With more than 100 recipes dedicated to this one special, often humble, meal, James Beard-nominee Jenn Louis shows readers how chicken soup is not only a source of heart-warming sustenance, but also a cure-all and the ultimate expression of love.

With chapters broken down by region and country, The Chicken Soup Manifesto includes everything from Algerian Chorba Bayda, Colombian and Panamanian Sancocho and Thai Kao Tom Gai to Spanish Sopa de Picadillo. Along with the recipes, Jenn also covers essential chicken know-how, from selecting and storing, to stock 101 and brining. The book is fully photographed with a design that establishes it as a collectible object as much as a hard-working guide to the world's favorite soup.

[8785533]

it's valentine's day soon, isn't it? Has any of you prepared anything?

Jasar!Sans: This 14th will be Gim's birthday, so... I seriously don't know what to do for his birthday, any advice?

Yosa!Sans: I'll take her out to dinner and dance somewhere elegant

Helian!Sans: a romantic picnic, I mean! friendly!

Mark!Papyrus: I'll prepare my special noodles for Caliber

Nishiki: I'll take her to see my family's farm, it's a nice place

Gim!Sans: ...I can't tell you

[rosetyler42]

I think for Ericka, it's judgementality, being overly critical or cold. She's trying to learn from her family's and her own mistakes, trying to be more accepting of others. She can be practical and pragmatic when she has to be, she tries to be proactive with threats, but she hates being seen as little more than a manipulative genocidal and homicidal maniac undeserving of the good things she has. Cowardly and weak would also be biggies leftover from her judgemental high pressure upbringing trying to be a brave, strong, and fearless Van Helsing. Esoecially being a noodle in a family of bricks. Incompetence and annoyance too, probably. But I think being Judgemental or disappointing to others is a big one for her.

For Alice: Dangerousness, evilness, ugliness. She spent a long time stuck inside an evil monster, thinking she had to be beautiful and perfect.

Drac: Weakness, foolishness/immaturity, recklessness, dorkiness, incompetence, cringe, Lack of control. he's got a rep as this big tough scary elegant and charming "leader of the pack" thing going on and he doesn't want to lose that respect even though he's secretly a big shy awkward dork with a mischievious streak. Being seen as nothing but deadly vicious animal probably too since he was hated and feared and persecuted for that for a long time.

Audrey: Evil, freaky, weird, ugly, disgusting, murderous, a monster, gullible...by and large Audrey just wants to go home and was thrust into the horrors. She just wanted coffee and she's forced to kill things and sneak around to survive. She was dragged into this genocide plot.

Shego: Weakness, softness, dependence, cowardice. She hates being written off as lesser. She's had to fight for her respect, either as a sister in a family of boys, a hero, and later a villain. She wants to be respected, valued, and taken seriously. She wants people to actually LISTEN to her.

One of my favourite questions for figuring out a character’s motivations is which qualities they most fear being assigned to them. Are they afraid (consciously or unconsciously) of being seen as stupid? Ungrateful? Weak? Incompetent? Lazy? Cowardly? Intimidating? Like they actually care? etc.

It’s such a fun way to explore into who they are, why they do what they do, what they don’t do out of fear, and how they might be affected by the events of the story. And I love when characters have negative motivations—trying to avoid something (in this case, being seen a particular way) as much as they’re trying to achieve a goal.

[yaatrickyassification]

I summon these demons!

Synopsis: Instead of throwing out spells left and right, isn't it much more fun and cool to have a demon do it instead?

[ Venti, Zhongli x Fem! Reader ]

TW: Demons, rituals, swear words, suggestive themes, some bits of Dottore slander, Childe almost dying, repetition of words because I have a small vocabulary.

Word Count: 4,093k

You’ve always had a love for the mystical and fantasy side of the world, even though most of your peers, even your parents (you have wanted them to be more supportive of your dream.) Have constantly tried to dissuade your stubborn self (because you can’t summon spells like everyone even though you have a lot of mana that no one had ever seen in history). Though you didn’t pay any mind to the subsequent jeers and teasing of your classmates and from society, you were strong and they weren’t.

And you were going to show them what [y/n] [l/n] is made of, but you didn’t take into account getting an equally baffling and weird… friendship? Fischl who was peacefully eating her noodles made especially by her mother, finally opened her mouth to speak her bullshit: “My friend, my sworn sister, my most powerful magician in the kingdom of crows, I have heard your prayers of wanting to summon a fearful entity? Beyond without a shadow of a doubt that I have not doubted you for even a second.” 

“Amy.” You exasperated and sighed at your friend’s antics, in the corner of your eyes you can see the mean wizards and the popular stuck-up rich princesses and princes pointing fingers at your friend’s grand bizarre show of her… words.

“And who might Amy be?” She elegantly or tried to be elegant tilted her head to the side but was stopped as Mona came by to your table with a disgusting bowl of salad with no meat, berries, or nuts, in sight. Both you and Fischl’s eyes widened at the pitiful sight and looked back towards Mona who sheepishly sent out a smile. She's broke, isn't she?

“Are you going full-on vegan?” You blanch.

Mona huffs and forcefully elbowed Fischl onto the side, Fischl let out a painful moan before sitting up straight and sending a glare to Mona, “oh my dear astrologist, how can you be so painfully rude to your Prinzessin?” Mona scowled and finally, Fischl relents to her fearsome gaze and scoots away from Mona’s vicinity as a touch can painfully set aflame her porcelain skin. Seeing Fischl huddled up closer to your side she finally sits on the wooden bench.

“So, what is it that I’ve heard about you trying to summon demons?” You glowered at the blonde girl beside you who was trying so hard to avert her gaze anywhere just so that she can’t face the frightening light in your eyes. “And where did you hear that from?” You inquired from the astrologist in front of you.

The astrologist huffs and rolled her eyes to the side as she painfully stared daggers at the whole crowd that never bothered to hide their sharp-seethe swords nor the mocking stares glaring down your figure, “unfortunately, your fame precedes your expectation [y/n].” Mona looks at you with pity.

“Oh god. What is it now?” Fischl who has been quiet whistles and starts to furiously type away at her phone, finding what she was looking for, she abruptly shoves the phone into your hands. You sent a frown her way as she let out a hump and turned to the other side and focused on her meal, which smells deliciously scrumptious, you can also see Mona trying to get a few bites out of the meal which Fischl effectively deflected her advances towards her food.

“A magicless student inside of the esteemed Teyvat academy of magicians and scholars is repetitively seen trying to summon demons?” You huff and throw the phone onto the table with a loud sound effectively making Fischl and Mona stop their antics. “Seriously, students these days can’t just mind their own business. And magicless? I won’t go so far as to call myself magicless; I have thrice the amount of mana the entire school population has! I— I just can’t do spells, which I don’t know why. And why do they make it sound like demons are bad? Demons are also accepted here.” You stop with your rants and turn to face Mona and Fischl, fire was seen in your eyes.

“You believe me, right?” You pressed.

“We—we do?” You satisfactorily nodded at their hesitant agreement and stood up from your seat, your hands making their way to your bag, as you messily fumbled around the messy dump called your things. You finally found the book you were looking for and brought it out for the whole world to see and slam it down on the table with a loud bang. “And what’s this?” Mona asks as she prods at the book with a weird title: a guide to summoning demons: made by the illustrious Paimon!

“This looks very suspicious,” Fischl utters before snapping out of her stupor and trying to cover up her words with royal terms.

“I’m going to summon demons and I’m going to succeed and after that? I’m going to blast all of those motherfuckers on how overpowered I am.” Fischl and Mona absentmindedly stared at you and Mona scoots closer towards Fischl and so did her, “should we stop her?” Fischl curiously asks, “I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘I don’t know?’” Fischl snide.

“You do know that my astrology magic doesn’t work on [y/n] right?”

“And?”

Mona facepalms, because why is she stuck with these dorks?

<>

You slam the book down the ground as the cult star thing that you can normally see in movies is laid on the ground, fully drawn with perfect precision. You’re summoning demons, things can go to shit in five seconds and you aren’t taking any chances, you look towards your side to see any things that you might have done wrong or the tools that you needed are not there where you place them.

Ten intermediate mana potions? Check, you might have a ton of mana but you aren’t going to take chances, if you manage to deplete your mana in a fight with a demon (which is impossible) you might find yourself in the afterlife, and you can’t afford that.

Ten high-grade healing potions? Check, to make a demon subservient, you need to beat the shit out of them, in which you don’t know how you will fare. But isn’t life just like that?

A contract? Check.

A binding easy-to-rip spell? Check, just in case you can’t make the demon subservient; it might run a serious ruckus and worse might get you expelled. You don’t want that happening.

“Okay, let’s do this!” You shout and bring forward a knife, the knife pierces your palm as you chant the summoning guide clearly instructed on the book you’ve been following to a tee. A drop of blood fell to the floor, now a stream quickly fills the crevices of the star inside of a circle that you have carved carefully and gently, and finally the star glows a deep red before turning white and it filled the entire room, and you were sure you were getting out of this blind.

A voice was later heard.

Venti:

“Woo! What a nice feeling, now, If I can only have wine together. That would be the cherry on top!” A cheery voice which you didn’t expect from a demon, you expected them to have, and finally, the light subsided and its place was a boy or a girl? You don’t know, do demons even have gender or are they all gender-neutral? You’re going to ask Dottore later.

In its place was a boy (you’re going to assume.) He had braids sprouting out of the side of his hair which is colored in teal, and oh boy, he has wings on his back. Are demons even supposed to have wings? And the clothes, white silk fabrics hang around his shoulders and to his chest like a crop top with white shorts covering his bottom part. And before you can stop yourself, “are you a boy or a girl? Like I mean, what pronouns are you comfortable with? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and oh! I’m [y/n] [l/n]!” You stood up from the ground and bowed, “please take care of me.”

The demon gapes at your introduction before letting out a peal of laughter, “my, my, awfully polite, aren’t we?” You shrug, “can you afford to be this polite to a demon?” The demon asks you curiously.

You tilted your head to the side before speaking: “As I mean, I’m kind to Dottore.” The demon leans his head to the side at the mention of the name, his slender fingers coming up to his chin in a thinking motion, “Dottore? I haven’t heard of that name in the demon realm.” You gasp in shock as you think back to the face of that despicable man.

“Oh, I see. So, he was human.” Hearing your bated whispers, the demon lets out a laugh as he tries to wipe the tears out of his eyes that fall down the slope of his cheeks, “you’re very funny, it’s been years since a mortal has made me laugh. All those demons were so boring, especially Morax.” The demon stops laughing and faces you with a smile.

“Now what is your name, dear contractor?”

“Uh, [y/n] [l/n]?” You said, the demon in turn nodded his head before raising a finger, “I just want one thing before we proceed to the contract.” He eyes the fridge that was right beside the summoning ritual and you gulp, does he want to eat you? The demon bobs his head up and down and points toward the refrigerator.

“Do you have wine with you?” You slowly nodded your head in confirmation, seeing your action the demon significantly brightens up even more so than before. “I want that.” Baffled, you tilted your head to the side and asked: “you don’t want a fight?” The demon smiles and leans undeniably closer toward your direction, “If you want to, I’ll happily oblige.” You hastily run to the refrigerator as the demon let out a laugh at your actions.

“So, what’s your name?” You hesitantly ask the demon who was busily looking over the contract while also chugging a bottle of wine (this was his third bottle.) “You don’t know?” You nod. “You don’t even know my name? And you summoned me.” He pointed out sharply.

You flinch at his tone, “I like humans like you, so full and rich with mana. And oh, how pure you are. It makes me giddy to have you as my contractor all by myself. You’re only my contractor, right?” You hastily nodded. The demon smiled before letting the contract dissolve into the air and a mark of anemo seared onto the right side of your waist. “You may call me Barbatos, I’m the eighth of the 72nd demons. But you may call me however you like, contractor.” He neared your face as he lightly kissed the supple of your cheek, “Ven—Venti, can I call you that?” Barbatos stopped with his gestures as he smiled and nodded in satisfaction.

Venti’s hand travels down to the side of your body, and finally, his fingers rhythmically thump on the mark hidden underneath the layers of clothing over your waist. “Let’s have a good time together, okay? [y/n]-chan.”

To summon the eight, which is one of the most powerful demons in the 72nd demon realm, surely turns heads. Almost everyone in your school has heard of your accomplished feat and is now gawking and staring at the demon, which basks in the attention he is getting. The green cape on his shoulders fluttered in the wind as his black shoes made a sound on the marbled floor of the academy (you made him change his clothing, because sure as hell is he not strutting up to your school in that outfit.)

In the short weeks, you have known Venti, you have decided that he is a menace.

He’s a bad alarm clock, he will never wake you up if you ever so decided to let him do the job. He will silently and stealthily turn off your alarm clock with his wind and will snuggle up closer to you, got to control that demon urges, right?  

And of course, during lectures, he will sit right in front of your desk. And no one corrects him for it, because who has the guts to fight a demon who is a part of the top ten strongest? Like, who? You, of course.

“Venti, please get down. I can’t take down notes if you’re in my way.” You irritably hissed out. Venti whistles and gets down from your desk but instead makes his way to your lap as he cuddles comfortably to your chest, “come on, he’s just spouting bullshit, I can teach you about the history of demons later, I can’t control my urges anymore.” You huff and undeniably pulled the demon closer.

Lunchtime with Venti is hell, literally and figuratively. He wants the wine and he will get it (maybe your kisses too, but you’re not ready for it yet.) Once the cafeteria staff denied him of his wine, he blew up a fit and decided to blow the whole cafeteria away, he almost got you expelled but a little threat from Venti was all it takes to make them take back their expulsion.

Venti loves your attention and since lectures take most of it, he decides to take all of your full love and care during lunchtime. His place is on your lap, he had taken territory of it since the first time you’ve ever summoned him, and all Mona and Fischl can do is stare at the thousand-year-old demon snuggling up to a sleep-deprived university student. 

And when school is over? It’s Venti time, you know that demon urges I keep saying? It’s when demons have the sudden urge to spew chaos but it can usually be quelled by their contractor through intimate gestures, that’s why Venti usually stays close to your vicinity never leaving and always so affectionate.

Venti loves wine but he loves your mana more, every night time he will bother you and will persuade you to make him drink your mana again. And you let him do so, which causes you to wake up all tired and groggy tomorrow.

“I love you so much, you’re the freedom that I crave for centuries. Now, let me cherish you until death does us part, and once death comes knocking down on your door. I will bring you with me down to the depths of hell, and no angel can keep you away from me.”

Zhongli:

“Who dares summon the demon of war?” A rough and uneven voice was heard and in the place of the subsequent dimming light stood a tall man with long hair flowing to his back, his arms covered and basking in geo energy in which veins litter his fingers up to his arms. His golden eyes shine in horrid glee as he looks left and right to find the mortal who had dared to summon the demon of war.

War, all humans, angels, demons, and any other species have fear of it. But this demon calls himself the demon of war? The definition of the word, and its embodiment? You let out a shaky breath and suck in a harsh inhale. You don’t know if you’re getting out of this alive, the man who wore a white hooded cape over his hood and the long baggy white pants steps out of the summoning ritual and gazes upon you with confusion.

“You’re the mortal who summoned me?” If it weren’t for the thick tension in the air and the way his eyes glinted over with murderous intent, you would have cussed him out to the ends of Teyvat. But unfortunately, you can’t. “Y—yes?” Curse you for stuttering, this man was intimidating as hell and you stuttered in front of him. Now, you wondered why you didn’t try to summon angels instead.

The demon scoffs and glares at you with anger, “you dare lie to me? But you’re weak. You would need a needless amount of mana to summon me.” You can’t bring it upon yourself to say that you do have a needless amount of mana, The demon eyes you and the surroundings before finally giving in, “no matter, fight me. And I will judge for myself if you truly deserve to have the demon of war under you.” Fuck.

And immediately the demon created hundreds of geo stone spears and the mass of it caused some of your furniture to shred and topple over to the ground. You watch with painful eyes as an expensive tea set from Liyue got shattered on the carpet floor of your apartment, “my—my tea set! Do you not know how expensive that is?!”

The demon looks at the shattered pieces of glass before making it levitate and immediately the sharp piece of glassware went flying towards you at a speed not caught by the human eye, you pray to the gods above you as you manage to dodge the sharp crystal that flew past you.

Strands of hair fall to the ground and you can feel the painful cut from the glass on your cheek, you let out a curse. “You—” At his strangled grasp, you turned towards the demon who was intently staring at your cheek which has blood drawing out of it, the demon look to be starving as his face flush pink and he immediately pounces over to you and you let out a shriek.

Your body made contact with his as his hands made their way to yours and put it on top of your head, effectively locking you in place. You fumbled around the floor as you tried to let his grip on your hand loosen but who were you to win against a demon? The demon leaned closer to your face before getting his tongue out.

And oh my god? Is that a serpent’s tongue? And he licks the blood dripping down to your chin up to the wound where it continuously lets out streams of blood, what the fuck is this sexual tension? You tense in his ministrations and you can feel him let out a satisfied grumble through his chest which is directly in contact with yours. “It’s full of life.”

“Of course, it’s full of life. It's blood!” Maybe you shouldn’t have been too sarcastic to a powerful demon, but the demon looks thrilled at the prospect of you rebelling as he let out a deep laugh, “how interesting, my name is Morax. I’m the 21st demon of the demon realm, and I will have your mana.” Baffled, you stared at Morax with wide eyes.

“Excuse me?” You stared at him with surprise before the surprise turned into anger, like hell no, you are letting some demon manhandle you. “No.” You uttered firmly. Morax who heard you tilted his head to the side. “No?” You nodded your head. Morax sent you a chilling smile as he further prodded at your words. “No?”

Having enough you speak out: “Yes, are you deaf?” Morax who was bewildered stared at you for a few seconds before his stare turned sharp as a metal sword, “and why do you think I will listen to the likes of you?”

“Because consent is sexy.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are excused.” And with all of your might kick him in the groin and he with his guard down managed to let you escape with a pained groan, and without wasting time you ripped the binding spell and a blinding light went straight towards the demon who was unprepared. Morax, who was now bonded, let out fearsome growls and shouts consisting of “Let me go, you mortal!” Like hell, you would.

“First, no I won’t let you go. Second, I don’t want to call you Morax, can I call you Zhongli instead? Third, no way in hell am I making you go to my school dressed like that. Fourth, I would let you drink my mana if you sign the contract with me and ask for my consent, and fifth, my name is [y/n] [l/n] your contractor, not mortal nor human. Understood?”

And the demon can’t help but nod his head in confusion. The contract constricted and formed into rocks as it crumbled and turned to dust in five seconds, with the disappearance of the contract, the mark of geo appeared on your lower back as it glowed and throbs with the energy of geo.

You’ve always wondered how a demon can change in the span of a few weeks, the once unruly Morax now turned into a polite-mannered Zhongli. You would have doubted if Zhongli was the demon of war if he had been this polite in your first meeting.

Zhongli is undeniably a good alarm clock that wakes you up gently and will even cook you breakfast, you always ask him why he cooks breakfast, and Zhongli with his gaze of gold let out a fond sigh at your question and off he rants about his acolytes, Xiao? Was it? Doesn’t know how to cook shit and the only food that he can cook and is an expert at is almond tofu.

And Ganyu? Well, Zhongli said that Ganyu only eats the plants and herbs that they can find in his territory and well, Zhongli isn’t a fan of plants. You knew that from how much he liked the slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup that you cooked for the man or in this case demon.

If you didn’t know any better you would have thought that Xiao and Ganyu were his children with how fondly he talks about them, you asked him once before and he started sputtering (“I—They—are not my children, though If you would like to have one—” You stared with wide eyes at the demon, and he coughs into his fist.)

And when it’s time for class, your professor is in one hell of a ride with Zhongli, every time the professor says something wrong. Zhongli coughs into his fist as he leans closer to you and quietly mutters the right answer, in a voice that your whole class can unfortunately or fortunately can hear, and it has your professor steaming in red fury. You tried to choke down your laughter at how angry your professor looked by the end of the day.

And when it’s lunchtime, Zhongli has your likes and dislikes with food down to a tee, he will spare no mess when it comes to his contractor. He will line up in your stead for the cafeteria food and almost everyone clears out of his way, and if someone doesn’t. Wow, would you look at that, who’s Zhongli? I only know Morax.

Once he tasted the cafeteria food, he would frown so hard you worried for a second before saying that the cafeteria food isn’t good enough for his contractor and will throw it out of the window, all the chef ladies hate you now after that. He will also serve you tea, sometimes Mona and Fischl wonder if you summoned the demon of war and not a servant.

Childe, hearing of you summoning a powerful demon, immediately went up to Zhongli and started to provoke Zhongli, (“are you sure you’re a demon?” “Yes, I am a demon.”) And you’re so proud of Zhongli that he isn’t instantly hurling insults or even stone spears at Childe’s direction, but all of it shattered as soon as Childe decided to insult you to get a reaction out of the demon, and oh boy, God bless Childe by managing to dodge the thousands of stone spears hurling toward his way.

And since Zhongli loves your mana, adores and worships it even. You need to give this man his daily dose of mana or else he will all turn Morax on everyone, and since you need to get all intimate for mana to get transferred, the more intimate the action the more powerful the mana is transferred. And Zhongli, who loves your mouth after your mana, likes to kiss you to get his mana. (Well, if you’d like other means, he’s all ears.)

“How addicting the taste of your lips is, I want it. I want it so bad that I feel I’ll go crazy if I can’t have your lips on mine. If you’ll allow me, contractor, I’ll love and spoil you until you can feel as if you’ll die from it.”

[jimilter]

riptide (m) | k.sj. | (1/2)

one | two

pairing:  kim seokjin x reader

rating:  m (18+)

genre:  angst | smut | established relationship!au

summary:  It takes a foolishly trivial incident to unravel how astonishingly little you and Seokjin actually understand each other. It has you questioning your relationship, and him? Well, he’s questioning his whole life.

warnings:  swearing + implied alcohol consumption + realistic relationship problems + mentions of insecurities, jealousy, complicated mental dispositions + emotional distress + sexual situations (unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talking, a bit of manhandling, fingering) + mentions of masturbation + a ton of miscommunication (refer to the summary smh)

word count: 12.3 k

note:  it’s FINALLY done, y’all! came up to be a monster of 25k words, so i decided to split it into two. i’ll drop the other part next week. this took a lot more time, energy and re-writing than i’d thought it would. i began writing this in january - it’s been five excruciating months! 😩 i really hope y'all will like this one~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

riptide (n) – a dangerous area of strongly moving water in the sea, where two or more currents meet.

Lady, running down to the riptide - Taken away to the dark side - I wanna be your left hand man.

The turn of events has been so fucking hilariously impossible that Seokjin has literally been rendered speechless. Which doesn't happen often, mind you. What can he do, he is just extremely witty—he always has something to say about everything, usually and preferably with impeccable comic timing. Especially when it comes to you. 

This, though. This completely baffling scenario, right in front of him, has him gaping like a goldfish with no words to say.

"Final call, Jin. Gawk at me for five more seconds and I walk out of here," you threaten, an elegant arm poised at your waist and gorgeously plump lips pressed into a thin line. "Say something?"

And Seokjin still cannot formulate a single word, because what the actual fuck? How can you even think that he could ever— 

"Alright." You catwalk out of his bedroom, leaving him blinking into space.

He jumps the next second, leaping after you. "Honey! How would—what—I can never—why do I even have to say—will you wait? You’re being so ridiculous, right now, I hope you know that!"

If he wasn't in such a fix, Seokjin would physically cringe at his speech. It was better when he was just gaping.

“Honey! Stop being so overdramatic, you’ve known me and you’ve known Jimin! For years! Stop acting like you seriously don’t know what happened, here!”

You don't stop, though, gliding down the stairs and hopping over the haphazardly tossed items in the living room as you exit out of the house.

And then you're gone. You're really gone, over something so fucking ridiculous, that Seokjin still has no words to say.

All he knows is that his girlfriend of five years has finally gone crazy enough to jump to conclusions of such high magnitude of stupidity.

And, that Park Jimin is a dead man.

It all begins on an unsuspecting Sunday morning, when the entire house is smelling of weed, stale booze and some worse fluids. 

Last night, Seokjin vacated his own bedroom for the boys to smoke up in at Jimin's request, because that is the only well ventilated room of the house. He spent the night in Yoongi's room with earplugs in, dead to all the chaos in the house—as he often does on party nights—to catch up on his beauty sleep. He cannot afford any unbecoming dark circles or, God forbid, breakouts.

And no, that's not a comedic moment, he really does need his face looking perfect this week for reasons outside of personal gratification too, because he has a shoot on Tuesday. He especially took a leave from his part-time job at the Mexican restaurant downtown where his girlfriend, you, work full-time, on a Tuesday—saying goodbye to all the amazing tips always forwarded to the cooks on Taco Tuesday—for this. Nothing would mess up his face.

Not to mention that one very important audition for a very gigantic project he's been looking forward to. They're yet to announce the date, but it would be this very month. He hasn't really told you much about it, planning a huge surprise for later when—if, actually, but he prefers to be unrealistically optimistic in every situation possible—he bags the coveted position, at the end. He hasn't really decided upon much, other than a long drive and a picnic date to one of those grasslands on the city's outskirts that you love so much. Oh, and bringing up the prospect of moving in together in an apartment with just the two of you. 

He's pretty certain you must not remember him raving about the opportunity, because it has been months since he did that. He then proceeded to be covert about all the mini auditions and trainings he underwent to prepare for the final audition, and he is confident you have not connected the dots.

But that is all a discussion for later — he doesn't even know when he would be auditioning. 

The crux of the whole matter is that he needs to keep looking as flawless as he can until that audition happens.

So he has slept like a baby, last night, while the rest of his friends have partied, including two out of three of his housemates—Hoseok and Jimin—along with Taehyung and Taehyung's girl. Namjoon had foregone attendance in lieu of the Halloween party, next weekend, that he knows he would definitely be forced to attend because Hoseok is hosting. Yoongi, his third and final housemate, escaped the house altogether to spend a night of music-making with Jungkook in his dorm.

So, in the morning, when Seokjin is moving around his kitchen that seems to have been hit by a tornado, checking the fridge and mentally praying that his baggie of smoothie ingredients is still in good shape—a scream echoes around the house.

Seokjin freezes. That sounded a lot like…you.

Immediately alert, he runs out of the kitchen and into the drawing room. Hoseok is hanging upside down on one of the couches, something that looks a lot like undigested white sauce pasta puddles on the ground, inches from his new, fiery red hair. Seokjin grimaces.

"Kim Seokjin!" your screech tears the silence.

Seokjin twists on his heels, looking up in the direction of his bedroom. It really is you. And you're in his bedroom—the room he did not occupy last night.

God only knows what kind of a scene you have walked in on. He hopes these idiots didn’t have an orgy up there, although he really can’t put it past them.

Not waiting another second, Seokjin rushes up the stairs and pushes through the doors to his bedroom. His mouth falls open on an audible gasp.

You stand next to his bed, dressed up elegantly in a navy dress that ends above your knees—which makes him wonder if you are here for an impromptu breakfast date—with one hand clutching his duvet that has uncovered what looks like…

…a head of long, dirty blonde hair.

Who the fuck?

In his bed?

"Hey, Honey!" Seokjin's voice is a squeak. "You… you here for a date?" he manages out of a suddenly parched throat.

You roll your eyes. "Uh huh. A fact you would've known if you looked at the texts I sent you last night." Your eyes are narrow at him. "This explains why you didn't, though. Busy night, Jin?" 

He balks at your words, at a loss. How could you even think it was him, when you know all about Park Jimin and his escapades?! 

Seokjin's blood boils. Fucking Jimin. There is going to be blood on Seokjin’s hands. 

In the midst of it, the blonde head shifts. 

Soon after, as you two watch, a pair of brown eyes with smudged makeup emerge from inside Seokjin's bed—and the audacity?! There’s makeup all over his covers! Jimin will pay for the dry cleaning. The face is followed by a whole, tiny woman of five-something feet who is, thankfully, covered in a shirt.

Seokjin is almost not breathing when the blonde starts to give him a dreamy smile, his gaze switching between her and you. And it’s extremely stupid, because he hasn’t seen this woman before, ever, in his entire life. But he catches the way your arms fall to your sides and those elegant, dainty fingers of yours ball up into fists as you look at the blondie’s face.

Fortunately, the girl recognises him at last before her grin could turn fully dopey, and with a squeak, jumps out of the bed. “You’re not—um. Hi. Sorry, I, uh. I’ll get going.”

And surprisingly, she does exactly that in less than a minute, leaving you to stare down at Seokjin.

“You know, it’s really unbecoming for a girlfriend to keep finding girls in her boyfriend’s bed every other week and not be given an explanation, ever.” Your tone is teasing, but your eyes are taunting. “You shouldn’t always be so dismissive, you know? What if I start getting ideas? I don’t think you even remember how to make up with your girlfriend, at this point, because I never fight.”

That is when Seokjin starts gawking. And literally doesn’t stop until you’ve left the house.

“I don’t get it,” Jackson says, stuffing cold noodles into his mouth and chewing on them without closing it. “Do you think he cheated on you, or do you not think he cheated on you?”

You look at your best friend with your face twisted up in disgust. You swear to God you would never have agreed to make friends with this guy on your mother’s insistence when the Wang family moved in next doors to you, had you known he’d turn out to be such a barbarian a decade later. Twelve-year-old Jackson had been such a decent kid—studious, elegant, well-mannered. What went wrong, along the way?

You exhale, shifting on your chair, very wary of any dried up fluids that you might come in contact with. “I know he did not cheat on me, Jax, the very notion is completely ridiculous.”

Jackson stops chewing and looks away from the WWE match playing on the TV to squint at you. “I’m…confused? Wait. What is the problem, then? What are you mad at him for?”

To be completely honest, you aren’t quite certain yourself.

But you do know that you don’t feel good. And that this feeling has been building up over a couple months, but you have only really acknowledged it head-on, today, in all five-something years of your relationship. Five years, seven months and eight days, to be exact, but that’s kinda besides the point.

You’ve had at least a few months’ worth of buildup that has gotten you to this point, you would admit. Especially after Seokjin had to cancel that visit to your hometown at the end of June, for your parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration because he had an important audition for a big-brand ad film. The cancellation was acceptable, but his offhand comment that, “thirty-five isn’t even that special, we’ll get them a huge gift for their fiftieth,” stayed with you longer than it should’ve. Things got okay-ish when you reminded yourself how Seokjin never really thought too hard about things he said, always being a humorous, unattached clown in every situation. But this morning's dismissal has pushed you over that edge. You straightaway goaded him, claiming he doesn’t remember how to make it up to you, and all you got in response was his shock and being called “ridiculous” and “overdramatic.” Fun.

You were most certainly joking, if a bit caustically, when you said what you did. He could have taken it as a joke and laughed it off. He could have taken it as a threat and comforted you, said it was Jimin that used his room, and maybe kissed you. You already knew what had happened when you saw the girl, anyway. But this was probably the third time this situation had happened, this month. 

Sure, you are understanding and really do know Jimin and what all he gets up to, but is that really supposed to be such a given? Asking your boyfriend to hug you close and kiss your forehead when you discover a girl in his bed just as you were about to cuddle the lump of sheets thinking it was him, is not too much to expect, is it?

Granted, Seokjin has never been extremely expressive, but still. It feels like he’s consciously trying to keep you at a distance, these past few months.

You don’t have the complete grasp of the storm of thoughts in your head yet, but you want to try and explain it to Jackson the best you can. 

“It was about respect, in a way, I guess,” you quietly mumble, and Jackson turns the TV off, now sitting cross legged on the couch to face your chair. He puts away his takeout container to frown at you, probably gleaning how serious this is for you. “He stood there, without saying a single word, expecting me to stop being mad. Almost willing me to stop being mad by making these big, incredulous eyes at me. Like it was that horrible of his girlfriend to demand for an explanation when she found a girl in his bedroom. It was just the two of us, I wasn’t making a scene in front of anybody. He just—ugh! He could’ve simply asked me to not be mad, said it was Jimin who spent the night in the room and maybe even laughed about it, or plotted Jimin’s murder—I would’ve joined in—but no. He acted like I was being stupid, told me not be ridiculous and dramatic. And that made me feel really stupid.”

Jackson winces. “And why do you think you were not being stupid?”

You exhale. “I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t actually accusing him of anything, and five years down the lane, he should know that now. I just wanted him to say it and not scold me when I tease-taunted him. He always expects me to know everything. And even though I always do, it gets tiring sometimes. These weird thoughts get to you — that maybe you’re being too understanding and he’s using that to his advantage, you know?” You look down at your lap, playing with your nails. “It’s just…um. I wanted him to coddle me, I guess. To treat this as something big because I was throwing a tantrum about it and, just, I don’t know—try to cajole me? Assuage me with his words, maybe? But he didn’t. Because he hasn’t done that in forever. Because I never need him to, because I always freaking understand everything!” A sob leaves you.

Jackson pats the place next to him. “C’mere, you dumdum, and stop hyperventilating,” he mumbles, hugging you to his side when you move to sit on the couch. “I don’t exactly understand how the relationship dynamics work, but from what you told me, I get that you wanted attention? Some loving? And instead you got disappointed looks because Jin expected you to be mature and rational about it — the way you always are — and that too with his fucking eyes and some low-key insult words? Is it something like that?”

Wow, Jackson really paraphrased all that amazingly. “Yes, actually. It’s exactly that.”

Jackson sighs. “Y’all have been together a long time, babe, so I guess it’s kind of a given that you’d get to a no-bullshit point. Which is why he hasn’t done that in forever, because y’all probably don’t need that kinda stuff between you anymore.”

“I get that, it’s how a relationship matures. But I’m pretty certain that it’s not supposed to make me feel like this,” you sound slightly muffled, having stuffed your face into Jackson’s hoodie-covered chest. “I feel—I feel like we got too comfortable and now he’s just started to take me for granted. And I also feel like I’m being too needy. Am I being needy and annoying? He’d hate me if I told him all this, won’t he? Half of the reason we’ve worked out so well is because we’re both career oriented and don’t waste time overthinking stupid shit.” You gasp. “Oh, no—would he leave me? He’s used to his girlfriend being mature, not needy—”

You are cut off when Jackson pulls you away by your shoulders, giving you a serious look. “Wait, wait, stop. What did you say? Not the needy part, you’re allowed to be needy once in all the damn three-sixty-five days y’all stay busy for. The…taking you for granted part. Pretty big of a thing to say, babe.”

You sigh. “We haven’t been on an actual date in months. Seokjin thinks there’s no need for that extra effort when we spend lunch breaks at work together, everyday. Outside of the restaurant, our meetings involve our entire flock of friends by default. It’s been three months since we slept together.” You sniff, hating having to impart such a private detail of your life. “So no, I don’t think it’s that big of a thing to say, at all.”

“Wow.” Jackson gives a slow whistle. “You’ve really been bottling up a lot in there, huh?”

You shrug. “I guess. It never made me feel underappreciated, though. Sure, I was irritated at some occasions and disappointed at others, but… Today I feel horrible, Jax.”

“Did you share anything with Byulyi?” he asks, referring to your flatmate and good friend since college.

You shake your head. “She already has a lot on her plate, right now. She got rejected by the photographer she wanted to intern with, so it’s back to freelancing for her.”

“Yeah, that must suck.” Jackson grimaces. Then he looks at you. “You need to take a break, hun. Sit back, today, and have tacos and beer with me. Reset your inner thoughts. Talk to Jin tomorrow. Although, I must say, it’s kinda depressing that you have to actually tell your boyfriend that he’s being a bad boyfriend. Isn’t that kind of shit supposed to be realized on your own?”

You purse your lips. “I guess, yeah. But…don’t say that he’s being a bad boyfriend, Jax. I don’t think he even realizes something is wrong.”

“And that…doesn’t make it worse?” At your raised eyebrows, he concedes with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, fine, in any case — maybe try to hint at it before you dive straight in with the kill? See if he reacts?”

“I don’t know, Jax. What if he doesn’t? He’s really not the best at taking hints and reading signs, or that kind of subtle stuff.”

“Then you can just say your shit. All I’m saying is, give him a chance to figure it out on his own. He’s probably really clueless why you reacted so big on something so small, this morning. If you drop hints, maybe he’ll feel it out.”

You nod, somewhat amazed at how sound Jackson’s advice seems. “How are you doing this, Jax? Being a love guru all of a sudden?”

Jackson scoffs. “I’m just tryna put myself in Seokjin’s shoes. If I was in the situation he’s in, this is what I’d like to happen — be given a window to figure out what’s wrong. You’ve been together a long time, hun. It really shouldn’t be that difficult for him.”

You shrug a shoulder. “I won’t be too sure about that. Why does it even matter if he can or cannot, though?”

Jackson seems to be mulling over something before he drops his chin to his chest. “Because you’re supposed to be partners, hun. If you can tell what’s up with him with a single glance, why can't he? Not being good at taking signs is not a good enough excuse. My gut says that he’d be able to, though. And that knowledge will make you feel infinitely better, trust me. It’ll be reassuring to learn that he really knows and understands you well, won’t it?”

You nod, slowly, but you still have your suspicions. Seokjin has just been the kind of guy whose emotional depth goes to a certain extent and then just — well, stops. There are things that he feels and realizes and sees, and there are things that he doesn’t. It isn’t even something he does, you believe. It’s just how he is. Certain feelings just don’t fall in his orbit. And you’ve never found there to be anything wrong with it when he’s been an immaculately amazing boyfriend and tended to every single one of your needs, always. Well, you have never actually needed emotional consoling, too, so you haven’t had the chance to audition him for that. You keep yourself too busy for all that unnecessary mental pressure. It comes as a surprise, but you have never cried on Seokjin’s shoulder in all these years of your togetherness. You’ve kept your head straight and chin up, even during your college exams. And so has Seokjin, because you’ve never seen him cry, either.

Lately, though, things have been kind of weird. The gradual transformation into your professional lives that began after college, has been drastic in the past few months. Seokjin has been constantly prioritizing his career over you, and you have been understanding about it because you agree with it — to an extent. Seokjin believes it all the way through, though, and you have known for a while that you would hit your limit at some point, and would try to bring him back to yourself. Today morning, it seems, you hit that limit. 

You felt dispensable. 

You hate this feeling.

To be very honest, you know you can get over this. You can give it some time, remind yourself of how much your Jin loves you, believe that he is eventually going to come back to you once he settles, and be understanding about the entire thing. 

You can — but you really don’t want to.

Something tells you that this feeling of getting too comfortable will only fester and take a worse form as time goes by. You can wait it out, sure, and hope you aren’t being a pushover as he works on building his career. You are building your career, too, after all, and at least some of it has been for each other. 

The thing is, your plans with Seokjin are long-term—marriage, kids, white-picket fence, and all that. And you believe that if you are sensing a problem now, you better deal with it now before it has the chance to change its form and affect you both when you are at a more responsible point in your life.

Mind made up, you look up at Jackson, immediately grimacing when he forwards a greasy hand to pick up a taco for you. “I don’t…I don’t like tacos. And may I exchange the beer for scotch?”

“You work at a Mexican restaurant, and you don’t like tacos,” Jackson deadpans.

“They mess up my skincare.”

“Oh, fuck off! Have a spinach smoothie with a drink, why don’t you?”

You purse your lips to hold back your laughter at his ire, your own worries forgotten in the moment as Jackson gets up to get you a glass of scotch and some healthier snacking alternative.

“You're a dead man.”

Jimin stops dead in his tracks, arms frozen in the act of putting a t-shirt on. He blinks at Seokjin with big round eyes. “Hyung?” he mumbles, a picture of unblemished innocence, especially when he covers his toned torso with the oversized t-shirt he was in the process of getting into. “What—what’d I do?”

Someone who doesn’t know better would never believe that this young, innocent, frazzled haired fairy-boy could ever do any wrong. But Seokjin knows better. “You chaotic womanizer,” Seokjin nearly hisses, "you've gotta learn to clean after yourself. Honey found a girl in my bed. A girl—in my bed.”

Jimin had the decency to drop the innocent act. “Oh. Oh.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “Oh? That’s it?”

"Yeah, well, I clarified to her that it was a one time thing when we got to it. She was obviously expecting something more if she didn't leave when I told her to. Disappointed but not surprised." Jimin is frowning when he comes to sit down on the couch next to Seokjin. “Sorry you two had to see that. You clarified to Honey noona that I’d been the occupant of the room, though, right?” 

“I—what?” Seokjin scoffs. “Why would I even need to do that? She knows that already, obviously. She’s been seeing you for over five years, or have you forgotten?”

Jimin squints. “I mean…okay, fair point, I guess. Why’re you so worked up, then? Did something else happen, too? Where’s she, now?” Jimin looks around the living room as if looking for you.

Seokjin sighs. “Well, I couldn't really get much out before she was storming out of the damn house, altogether.”

Jimin blinks. “Storming out? Why? She… um, was she mad?"

Seokjin opens his mouth – and then shuts it. Was she mad, indeed. "I don't know. She looked kinda mad, yes. But maybe she was in a hurry?" 

"Why would she be mad? Did you try to call her? Text her? It's unlike her to react so big on something so small." Jimin bites down on his lip, looking lost in thought. 

Seokjin shakes his head. "She didn't pick up or text back."

“There’s definitely got to be an underlying reason for her being like this. Are you sure you guys haven’t been fighting, hyung?” 

Seokjin sighs. “Yes, Jimin, I’m absolutely certain that there hasn’t been any fighting of any sorts between the two of us before today.” He pauses. “Well, she was slightly irritated that I didn’t check her texts last night, but she knows I go to bed at eleven on days leading up to a shoot, so that one’s on her.”

Jimin looks genuinely concerned, which, in turn, makes Seokjin concerned. Jimin isn't the type to stress over stuff if he can help it. Sure, he cares about the boys and would always be down to do whatever he can for them, but his throwing-caution-to-the-wind way of life causes him to not take most of the things in life seriously.

You’ve been like an older sister to the boys ever since Seokjin started dating you and introduced you to them. They all have their ways of showing their respect and affection to you. Well, maybe not Jungkook because he can’t get over getting unnecessarily intimidated by Seokjin enough to relax around you. 

Jimin, especially, always seems to be affected by any tension in Seokjin’s relationship. Everyone can see how it upsets his entire life when you two are fighting, although he’d never admit to it. He doesn’t need to, because it’s pretty obvious when he becomes a cranky six-year-old who hates the world. 

Right now, he has a guilty frown on his face. "I should've seen to it that Suzette left before I went to shower," he mumbles as if talking to himself. “Shouldn’t have trusted her to leave just because I told her to.” He looks up at Seokjin with troubled eyes. "I'm sorry, hyung."

Seokjin can not believe himself when he shakes his head at Jimin's apology—this little demon causes so much chaos in all their lives that any apology coming from him should be justified and welcome. But this one isn't really on him. "It's not entirely your fault."

Jimin's demeanor changes a bit and the attitude Seokjin is used to witnessing makes an appearance. "Right? That's what I was thinking, too!" Jimin exclaims, some of the concern on his face lifting. "You have to talk to Honey noona and make things right, though, hyung. She’s the only womanly touch in our man cave. We’d all be barbarians without her.” Jimin looks very wary and kind of nervous.

“It’s funny you would crave her ‘womanly’ presence when she’s rushed off because of a woman that you brought home.” Seokjin scrunches his nose. "And I said it isn't entirely on you, because it is partially on you, Park Jimin. You borrowed my room to smoke up in. Why couldn't you take your Suzy back to your own room?"

"Suzette," Jimin corrects under his breath while shaking his head. "Yeah, I should've, but… your room just felt like a better choice during the high," he finishes in a mumble, dragging a hand down his face. “Hyung,” Jimin says with a pout on his lips, “the last time you two fought was two years ago, remember? On your birthday? When Hobi hyung dumped cake in noona’s hair and she had her first shoot for that bigshot magazine, the next day?”

Seokjin nods with a sigh. “She yelled at me for having stupid friends, and I yelled at her for caring more about the shoot that having a good time on my birthday. Yes, I remember.”

“And then she didn’t visit us for a whole week. Please don’t let that happen, again.” Jimin looks up at Seokjin with big, round eyes. “I can’t take that kind of unrest in my life."

Seokjin briefly wonders, if Jimin’s nightly conquests were to see this side of him, would they run in the opposite direction or be more attracted to him? Jimin definitely needs someone in his life that would bring out this side in him and stay to provide him the emotional comfort he requires when he gets like this. 

“I will try not to, Jiminie, but…” Seokjin shuts his eyes. “I seriously do not understand her actions from the morning,” he finishes in a mumble.

“Maybe she’s—maybe she’s worried about something else? Some other aspect of her life?” Jimin suggests with wide eyes. “And she’s just projecting onto you.”

“As sound as the explanation is, I am literally involved in ninety percent of the aspects in her life,” Seokjin says with a twist to his lips. “I would know if something was wrong anywhere.”

“That’s cocky of you to say,” Jimin snarkily comments with narrowed eyes. At Seokjin’s raised eyebrows, he amends, “That’s cocky of you to say, hyung-nim.”

Seokjin scoffs, but then he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s true. We work at the same restaurant, we’re scouted by the same agency. Even her agent is best friends with mine—she gossips a ton about how Honey passes up so many opportunities and pisses her agent off. Her friends are, well—” Seokjin stops short when it hits him. “Wang. Wang could know something!”

Jimin is looking at him skeptically when Seokjin meets the younger’s eyes. “I just think you should have a simple talk with noona first before digging around.”

That is sensible advice. Seokjin nods as he pulls his phone out.

“Just find out what’s been troubling her, hyung. You two are rational people, I’m sure you’ll work it out.” Jimin pauses to scratch the back of his head. “Just please don’t let this be another fight like that one?”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin finally says with a pat on Jimin’s shoulder as he finishes sending off another text to you, “this one is nothing like that fight.”

Turns out, this fight really is not like that one. Or any other fights Seokjin has ever had with you, in fact, because you’re giving him the silent treatment. 

You’ve never given him the silent treatment. 

Not even when you were students and didn’t have a load of time on your hands and used to waste precious sleep hours arguing over stupid shit that would probably resolve itself if you just slept on it and looked back at it with a fresh state of mind. Not even then did you forego talking.

Needless to say, Seokjin is distressed.

You drive to the house to pick him up at your usual time, the next morning, after not having responded to any of his calls or texts for the entire day. Seokjin is aghast as he gets into the car.

“Honey! What is going on? Why didn’t you—where have you been?”

You simply start the engine and take off. “Busy,” you murmur after a while.

Soekjin’s head is close to exploding. “Busy? Doing what?”

Your face remains stoic as you weave through the morning traffic. Seokjin looks at you. You’re dressed up in your waitressing outfit that consists of a shirt, skirt and tights, and being who you are, Seokjin can proudly say that you would stand out to be the most well dressed server in the field. You’re always pristine and tidy — no accidents happen to you at the job ever. No spillage of drinks or ketchups, no soiled hands being wiped down on your skirt. Nothing even ruins your manicure. 

It is something that Seokjin has always tried to keep up with, this cleanliness streak of yours. Because he has always assumed you would expect it out of him, too. You were attracted to the cover model version of him, after all. It is quite natural that you would have those kinds of expectations. And Seokjin has always been more than happy to deliver. It has become a part of him, in fact. He doesn't even chew with his mouth open even when he's among the boys, anymore.

It has, somewhat, made him practical and less emotional in life, too, but he doesn't really think of it as a bad thing. You have always been practical in life – the most ambitious girl he has ever met, someone that has always prioritized her career and goals over everything else. Seokjin has admired that since college, and has tried to show you that he has similar priorities even if he has had to work on thinking from his mind more than his heart.

But when you are already by his side, what does he even need his heart for, anymore, when it's already yours?

Now, looking at you sitting with a morose expression on your face as you give him the cold shoulder, Seokjin is just as much in love with you as he was when he first met you.

“Stuff,” you say with a shrug, after some extended silence. “You should know about that, right? Your schedule’s always busier than mine and I never complain.”

Your sharp words have him reeling. Whatever do you even mean by that? “Uhm, okay. Fair enough. But… did you really not have the time to respond to a single text?”

“It gets impossible sometimes, Jin, you know how it is.”

Seokjin frowns. He does know that, but he doesn’t feel okay. Something is very off with you. It is as if you’re saying something else and expecting him to discern a different meaning out of it. 

He doesn’t understand why, though. You, of all people, should know how terrible he is at decoding signs.

He sighs.

Seokjin, after his conversation with Jimin yesterday, had decided to ask you about the morning’s incident, head on, whenever you called him back. But you didn’t, and this is the first opportunity he’s had to talk to you, so he decides to bring it up, now. “What—what happened yesterday morning, babe? You got really mad and stormed off, and… I mean, you’ve got to know the girl had been Jimin’s companion for the night, right? You know him, how he is!”

You say nothing, hands tightening a bit on the steering wheel. Seokjin looks down at his own hands.

“You know I was only surprised at your words because we really do not have the time to be discussing silly things." He shuts his heart down when it tries to tell him to go soft. He knows it isn't something you would appreciate. "After five years, you know what I’m capable of right? You can never start getting ideas, because that would be insane and stupid. I’m already so supremely occupied as it is between two jobs, when would I even have the time to cheat, right?” he jokes, snorting to himself.

You’re still quiet, but your tongue comes out to moisten your lips. It is a nervous tick of yours which Seokjin recognizes very well, because with your skincare and scheduled regular application of lip balms, your lips never need the extra moisture.

He frowns. Was he too straightforward? But this is exactly how you communicate with him! “Hey, is everything okay, babe?”

You exhale, noisily. “Everything’s fine, Jin,” you finally say with a roll of your eyes. “And you’re right. I know you wouldn’t cheat. You don’t have the time to chat me up, how are you gonna pick someone new to impress, huh?” 

Your snort sounds lacking in humor, but Seokjin still gives a couple of stilted chuckles. Even so, he's still somewhat relieved. “Right. Just so we’re certain, that was a joke, right? I mean, it would be really ridiculous of you to think that I would—”

“Yes, Jin!” you cut him off with a deep frown. “If I wanted to talk to you about something, or accuse you, or confront you — I’d do that without you having to prompt me. Stop obsessing over yesterday and stop trying to explain yourself. I know it was Jimin’s doing.”

Seokjin feels immensely relaxed at the conviction with which you say the last sentence, certainly, but something is still off. “Why were you ignoring me, then?”

“I just didn’t have anything to say to you.” You stop at a red light, the last one before you reach the restaurant, and turn to look at Seokjin with really vacant eyes. He doesn’t like your stare one bit. “We’ve been together five years, babe. If neither of us have got anything of significance to say, I’d rather not text too much, if that’s okay with you? I’ve got a busy schedule to work around, too, you know?”

Seokjin wants to remind you that both of you had something of significance to say after you left his place in anger, but chooses to just roll with whatever you’re playing at. Maybe he's thinking too much. He nods. “Sounds alright to me.”

“Great,” you breathe out, somehow looking disappointed along with the preexisting sorrowful expression you had on your face.

You really do not have a concrete explanation for why you acted the way you did with Seokjin, this morning. 

You were supposed to hint at being mad, not blatantly try to give him a taste of his own medicine. It could turn out to be a good thing if he eventually starts to miss you and reaches out, sure, but playing mind games never feels right to you. But when he started to joke about not having time to cheat, and something just turned off in you. He really could’ve seriously reassured you of his love. That would’ve been actually comforting. But no. He chose to joke about that, too. You didn’t feel like putting in all that energy anymore, after that.

Now, you sit down in the break room to check your phone during your ten minutes’ rest break. A text message floats at the top of your notifications.

Jax 🚽 Hey How’d it go?

With an exhale, you decide to call him back. Your fingers are too tired to type, and Jackson is sure to launch off into a rampage of texts the moment you tell him you’ve tried to turn the tables on Seokjin.

Seokjin is in the kitchen, his usual rest break not being for another hour, so you don’t have to worry about him walking in.

“Hey!” Jackson jovially greets you as soon as he picks the phone. “Did you get my text?”

“I did, yes,” you respond in a calm voice. “I’ve been looping milkshake mugs through my fingers since eight am, they needed some rest, so I decided to call.”

“Yeah, no, it’s cool. I was in a really boring class, anyway. So. How'd it go?"

You pull in your lip between your teeth. "I… I kinda ended up telling him I am a busy person too and that we shouldn’t text that much."

You hear silence instead of the outburst you'd expected. 

"Jax?"

"Are you actually gonna try to play a mind game with the dumbest human being you know on earth?" Jackson so very eloquently asks, his interpretation making you pinch the bridge of your nose. “He’s never even gonna figure it out!”

“I know how it sounds, okay?” You exhale. “I honestly don’t know what came over me.”

“Okay, alright, one thing at a time. So, no coddling?"

"Not a single soft word. Just more expectations of me understanding, and claiming that anything but that would be stupid of me. He acts like I'm supposed to know everything about him and everyone in his group of friends," you mutter in irritation. “As if those dumbasses know the first thing about themselves.”

You realize you're being a bit harsh, because his friends – basically your younger brothers, at this point – are a bunch of clueless idiots that love, adore and respect you. You shouldn't be badmouthing them, Seokjin’s growing callousness towards you isn't their doing. It's his own. 

You sigh. You really miss how things used to be when you were in college.

“Uh, I think we need to rewind a bit. What happened? What triggered this?”

It makes you smile a little when Jackson asks that. At least your best knows you’re not wholly clinically insane. “Well… I drove him to work. He…" your brows lower at the recollection, "he was the first to bring up yesterday morning. And yet again, he gave me the same you've got to know this and that crap, and then he tried to assure me in the dumbest possible way. Do you know what he said, Jax, do you?”

“Um, do I wanna know?”

“He said, and I quote, he doesn’t have the time to cheat. Jackson Wang, are you hearing this? He really straight up said he was too busy to cheat on me and so I should rest assured! Who says that?!”

“He must’ve meant it as a joke—”

“Yeah, he said that, too, and then very immaculately added that it’d be ridiculous of me to think otherwise. I have lost count of how many times the words ridiculous and stupid came up.”

“Goddammit.”

“Goddammit is right,” you mumble, morosely resting your head on your palm.

“What did he say, by the way? When you told him to text less?”

You give a wry chuckle. "Well, he said it sounded alright to him."

"Son of a bitch. You – you two are messed up, man. Messed up bad. Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't? You don't wanna text less because you're busy, you want him to dote on you because you miss him!" Jackson sounds beyond frustrated. "And it doesn't fucking sound alright to him! It sounds scary, it sounds confusing, it sounds like something you would never say to him!" He groans. "But none of you would say that shit to each other! You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess."

You reel from the onslaught of his harsh words, eyes widened and breath stuttering. Jackson isn't usually the type to pay so much attention to your relationship problems. But this time, you guess, he has garnered the depth of your unhappiness and thus has gotten so involved.

You realize he is right. Nothing good can come out of any turned tables, because Seokjin is, anyways, not even going to be able to work out the problem by himself. He may even go around talking to his friends about how you were being cold with him and not giving him any time, and still not realize he has been doing the same to you. He is thick like that. 

When his friends tell you tales of his compassion, you're unable to relate. You've never seen that side of him. He has probably grown up from that emotionally overwhelmed high school graduate who had made friends on a whim, the night of his graduation.

You certainly don't appreciate the emotional abstinence, though, and would very much rather prefer if he would open up a bit more. It would help you be more open with him, without fearing him calling you "stupid" in response.

But it’s still alright, you accept him with that thick brain of his, because he’s still only ever going to be the only one for you.

"How are you two gonna get around to having a proper chat if you just keep building more walls between you both?" Jackson asks after the long pause from your end, this time softer. “I’m sorry, babe, I was wrong. Giving him signs and making him realize shit won’t work. It was stupid of me to suggest that. It’s probably why you ended up being so caustic with him.

“No, no, it was all me, Jax. I could’ve chosen to not listen to you, but my ego got in the way, I guess. It’s not exactly easy, telling your boyfriend you’re feeling neglected. I mean, what if he laughs in my face and tells me I’m being paranoid? What if he thinks I have no regard for his career — or mine — because my priorities don’t align with his?” You bite your lip, shutting your eyes as your insecurities attack you.

“Hey, no. None of that is gonna happen if you really share with him what you’ve been feeling. No hints, no sarcasm, you’re gonna have to tell him point blank. Allow yourself to be raw. He’s the love of your life. You don’t have to protect yourself from him, right?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know. You’re absolutely right, Jax. But I really have no idea how to even approach him, at this point. He’s either too busy with shoots, or with the guys, or some meeting. I cannot do this on call, because that always leads to misunderstandings.” You bite down on your lower lip, contemplating. “But I’ll figure something out.”

"Yes, you will. You always do. So, that’s good then. In the meanwhile, can you at least clean up this latest pile of poop? The talking less thingy is gonna make you two more distant, hun."

You scrunch your nose at his metaphor, but then your shoulders slump. "I don't know, Jackson. The way he so impassively agreed to it would make me sound really stupid if I take it back. And given what he keeps saying, he really doesn’t want me to sound stupid."

Jackson gives a snort at that. “Hah, funny. But listen. At the end of the day, he’s your boyfriend. You're gonna have to really decide if you're trying to get your boyfriend to give you more love, or if you're fighting a battle of egos and would like to bend him to you."

You bite your lip. “You make me sound manipulative.”

“You yourself confessed you let your ego come into this, one time. Don’t let that happen again. I’m trying to make you realize that complicated problems can have simple solutions, too. If only you’d communicate. Just talk to him soon, please, and make him understand why you’re hurt. Don’t carry on with this stupid cold war, okay? You gotta figure out exactly what you want, first.”

“You know what I want, Jax. You’re literally the only person that does, actually,” you remind him with a sigh.

“Oh, he is, isn’t he?”

You freeze, eyes bulging at the familiar voice. “I’ll… I’ll call you back,” you mumble before you disconnect the call and turn to look over your shoulder at Seokjin’s unreadable face. He stands with his arms crossed, still in his uniform but without the apron. “Jin… what—uh…”

“What am I doing here?” he scoffs, lips curling in distaste as he stares you down. “Well, I was going to the loo when I saw you sitting here. You looked upset, so I thought I’d check in on you on my way back.” He clicks his tongue, a dry chuckle tumbling out. “But apparently, you’ve got other people doing it for you, already.”

You wince, shutting your eyes. The one time he was finally going to give you some much needed attention — you sent a bad message his way. 

“So. Good to know there actually is someone who knows what you want. Would’ve been easier if it were me, though, given how I stand to be the one that is to deliver.” Seokjin sounds pissed off, and despite your irritation, you really want to make him understand.

You rub at your forehead. “Stop talking like that, Jin, it was just Jackson.”

“Wang?” He seems to seethe more, for some reason. “Of course, it’s fucking Wang!”

You frown, standing up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seokjin looks at you incredulously. “You—do you not see how this looks? You have problems with me, Honey, but you choose to discuss them with him? Who’s he, your therapist?”

“He’s my best friend, Jin, someone I trust,” you grit out.

Seokjin seems to take it the wrong way, his agitated expressions slowly fading into a blank stare. “Oh. You trust him, as opposed to…” He trails off with a shrug, but the implication is as obvious as it can be.

“Jin—”

He raises a hand up, palm facing you as he looks away. “If you need some time apart, you should tell me in plain words. You know I’m not good at reading signs.”

Seokjin gives you a blank stare before turning around to leave the area. You stand rooted to your place, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Some time apart? Has he lost his mind? 

He really is a huge freaking idiot who cannot pause to think what implications his words have. He seriously doesn’t recognize what all his “don’t be ridiculous/overdramatic/stupid” speeches do to you. You realize you should really make him understand. This has gone on for way too long.

But maybe you should take some time to yourself to cool off before that. You don’t want to say the wrong thing in your rage and complicate things further.

You sigh to yourself as you slump back into the bench you were sat on before.

You’d set out to tell your boyfriend you were feeling neglected, but you ended up making him think you want to be apart. How the heck did you get here?

You belatedly recall Jackson's words.

Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't?

You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess.

Your usually dumbheaded best friend was right on this one, you realize. You should’ve just talked like a normal human being instead of letting Seokjin’s words get to you and get pissy in retaliation.

You give a weary sigh. 

Seokjin is grateful for the sudden busyness he’s got on his schedule, or he would explode from all the pent up frustration you have been causing him. 

He realized he wasn’t as upset with you as he was irritated, right after he walked away from you on Monday. He dropped you a text with some excuse of needing to stay back so that he wasn’t forced to ride with you in the car again, and later took the bus home. 

You had told Jackson Wang about what was troubling you, but not him. It made Seokjin feel upset, incompetent and more than a little insecure. Seokjin absolutely hates feeling insecure. Especially about you. You’re the singular most precious entity in his life — not that you are an entity, per se — and anything that seeks to threaten your position in his life or his position in yours, makes him lose his shit.

So it was understandable that he jumped to unfairly disproportionate magnitudes of conclusions that day. When he thought about it, later, he could easily tell that you are just mad at him and not actually contemplating leaving him, not even for a little while. Not that he’d just sit back and have you do that so easily.

Seokjin also hates overthinking, but that is all he did for the entirety of his Monday. 

Monday, though, was the last time he had time to overthink. Life got exponentially busier after that.

Immediately after his shoot on Tuesday, he received his agent’s call and was informed of his jam packed schedule for the remainder of the week. He was pulled into two separate magazine ad shoots on Wednesday, a perfume ad film drank up all of his Thursday, and today, a hair product ad film needed him to report to a sunrise point in the city at the ass-crack of dawn. The sky was still dark when he rode across the city with his agent at nearly four in the morning. 

And now, the afternoon sun beats down on his car as he drives back alone, his agent staying back to tend to some business. Stopping at a red light, he reaches for his spinach smoothie with one hand and his phone with the other. Ugh, he feels beyond tired.

Blearily, he looks down at the device around a yawn, fingers habitually reaching for your chat.

He took a week off from the restaurant and dropped you a text, late Tuesday evening, informing you of the same.

Honey✨❤👸 Hm, kay. Good luck x

Unsurprisingly, that stands to be your last message in his inbox. It’s been four days.

Sighing, he swipes a hand down his tired face and exits out of the message app. He went to bed at nine o’clock, last night, and owing to the way he has trained his body to sleep on command, he did manage to get a sleep of nearly six hours, too. But it was fitful and plagued with nightmares featuring you. 

Knowing he doesn't have to be at the restaurant until Monday and that his next gig isn’t until Wednesday, he cannot wait to get back home and drink his weight in alcohol before he sleeps his way through the weekend.

Just as he has moved past the intersection, his phone rings. 

Honey✨❤👸 calling...

He nearly spits the smoothie he just sipped at.

Coughing, he roughly jostles the plastic cup back in the holder and pulls up to a side of the road to pick up the call. “Hey,” he breathes into the phone, embarrassed at his desperation.

“Jin. Um, hi.” You sound awkward, as if you…have been compelled to call him due to some reason.

He is immediately worried. “Honey? Is everything okay, do you need something?”

He hates himself for being so concerned when you have been neglecting him for so many days – yet again, despite your spat at the restaurant – instead of finally talking to him about what’s bothering you, but he can’t help it. At the end of the day, you are the love of his life. 

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. It’s just, um. Can you pick me up from the restaurant?” you sound nervous.

But, Seokjin realizes, I was right. You do need something. He clears his throat. “Uh, okay, I guess,” he agrees before stopping short when he realizes the time. “Wait, it’s barely even two. Why are you leaving?” he asks, confused and a little concerned. You work your shift till five every day and till eight on weekends.

“Tomorrow is Halloween, Jin. We’re closing for the weekend, remember?”

Seokjin’s mouth falls open on a gasp. He really had forgotten. “Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there in five, wait up.”

He swerves the car into the lane and takes off in the direction of the restaurant. 

He laughs at himself. He has been so caught up in work that he literally forgot Halloween. He wonders if this is what actual adulting is.

He is stopping before the restaurant within three minutes of your phone call, eyes immediately spotting your delicate figure standing on the sidewalk with your hands crossed against your chest.

You step down from the curb when you spot his car, and walk towards him. He watches your elegant legs as they beautifully fall in a straight line. Even when exiting your job as a waitress, you’re every bit the elegant model he met in college. Your hips sway tantalizingly, and something akin to longing swirls in his chest.

He composes himself quickly when you cross the car to get into the passenger’s seat. You awkwardly clear your throat as Seokjin busies himself with starting the vehicle, unsure if he should initiate conversation.

“Um, sorry about this. You were probably getting ready for shoot,” you finally say. “Byulyi dropped me off today. She wasn’t picking her phone up. I was trying to get a cab for half an hour. And the bus stop’s really far—”

“Hey, stop. It’s okay. You should’ve called me sooner.” Seokjin catches your apprehensive gaze on his oversized hoodie when he chances a glance at you. He sighs. “I was returning home from shoot, actually.”

He feels you stiffen, and he feels even more mentally drained at this. You used to be updated with his schedule to the tee — just short of having an actual copy of the calendar his agent carries on him. And the same goes for him with your schedule. This feels so wrong.

You are quiet for a while, your hands fidgeting in his peripheral vision.

“How—how was it?” you finally say, voice coming out like a croak.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “The usual. Blinding, tiring, exhaustive. I did okay, I guess.”

He feels your gaze snap up to drill holes into his skull. Your eyes are wide when he checks. “Okay? Since when do you do anything less than amazing at shoots, babe?”

He feels endeared at your casual use of a pet name. “I had to get up at three in the morning and go through a skincare routine. Then drive across the entire city to get to the location, because they wanted to capture actual sunrise. I was more tired than excited by the time they rolled cameras, so.” He shrugs. “Can’t really say I gave my best today.”

You nod at his admission. 

Seokjin almost jumps when his phone rings, again.

Jiminie calling...

He feels you shift in your seat. His mouth sours at the reminder of that Sue girl that started off this entire tussle between you and him. Fucking Jimin and his conquests. What happened to the shy and more than a little glum looking freshman he let into his living space, three years ago?

Your hand suddenly reaches forth to accept the call, putting it on loudspeaker, immediately. Seokjin gapes at you, momentarily looking away from the road. 

“Uh…hyung?” Jimin’s confused voice echoes in the car. 

Seokjin snaps out of his daze when you gesture towards the device. “Wh—Jimin, hi, what’s — what’s up?” he stumbles his way through a haphazard greeting.

“Hyung, I needed a favor. Are you on your way back from the shoot, right now?” Jimin asks, and Seokjin sees you freeze in your seat.

He feels a perverse sense of satisfaction. Yes, take that! Park Jmin knows of my schedule better than you do! This is what you get for ghosting me! “I was, yeah. What is it?”

“Oh, great! I kinda need your help, hyung. My tire gave out. Could you pick me up from the Kappa hall?”

Seokjin scowls. “Yah! Who am I, your butler? Hop on a damn bus!”

He notices you pursing your lips, no doubt finding his agitation humorous — you always do. 

“Hyu~ng,” Jimin whines. “I would take the bus, but the next one leaves in forty-five minutes and I need to be back within an hour!”

“What? Why?”

“I started on my sem project really late, hyung, and now I gotta spend any time I can spare at the rehearsal hall. I’m meeting a choreographer here in an hour. Please help me out!” Jimin is still whining, and maybe his reasoning is kind of alright, but—

Seokjin is tired to his bones. He literally cannot drive all the way down to your apartment and then drive back to the university campus to pick Jimin up.

He sighs, wearily. “Jimin… I’m really tired.” 

“And I’m really desperate, hyung! Dancing is tough! And the subject I've chosen, tougher. I haven't done ballet since first semester, Freshman year! I have to work my butt off and be done in under two months."

Seokjin exhales, feeling beyond exhausted. But then your finger is tapping on the screen and the call has been muted. Seokjin’s surprised eyes fly up to meet yours. You look conflicted, biting down on your lower lip as you shake your head with a frown.

“You should go home and rest, Jin. Leave the car with me, I’ll pick him up.”

“Hyung? Say something?”

Seokjin blinks. “You…”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll pick him up, yeah. He’ll drop me off and drive back to your place.”

“Hyung?! Did you put me on mute, or what? I can't hear a thing!”

“Tell him you’ll be there in ten!” you say, unmuting the call.

“I’m in the car, the network must have glitched. I’ll, uh… be there in ten?” Seokjin nervously finishes off, looking at you in question. You give him a nod, blinking slowly. “Wait up, okay?”

“Oh my God, thank you so much, hyung!” Jimin practically squeals through the phone. “I’ll be in the ice cream shop across the building. I love you, hyung-nim!”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and disconnects the call. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes as he takes a right, now moving in the direction of his apartment instead of yours. “You sure about this? Jimin, um, knows. About our…” Seokjin doesn’t want to call it the f-word, because he would like to believe that you two aren’t actually fighting. “You being upset, I mean,” he settles for the easier alternative. “He might ask questions.”

You give a small huff of wry laugh. “I can handle it, Seokjin. I’ve known Jimin for almost three years now.”

Seokjin doesn’t like it when you address him by his full name. And so, his lips remain pursed for the remainder of the ride, only parting to tell you to “drive safe and text me when you finally get home,” and then he walks inside his apartment without looking back.

He hears his car come to life and then speed away. He shuts his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter. Gathering his emotional as well as physical bearings, he opens the refrigerator to rummage through some leftovers to munch on while he breaks out a six pack of Budweiser. 

Before his fried rice has even reheated, Seokjin groans at the sight of an all too jovial Hoseok entering the kitchen with a glint in his eyes. “No, Hobi. Not now.”

“What? I didn’t say a word, hyung!”

Seokjin winces, shutting his eyes just as the microwave beeps. “I don’t have enough energy to deal with your general aura, right now,” he mumbles, extracting the piping hot glass bowl. He leans down to open one of the compartments beneath the kitchen table to get to the beer that he’s been dreaming of for nearly an hour, now. “I’m dead on my feet and—woah!” Seokjin gasps, cutting himself off.

Hoseok hops into the kitchen, coming around to stand behind Seokjin. “So you found ’em,” he says around a chuckle.

“Found ’em? This is you?” Seokjin whips his head around to glare at Hoseok up from his crouch. “Why is my liquor closet resembling a liquor shop, Hobi? Why do we have all this—” he turns around to read the labels, cursing under his breath. “Why do we have,” he pauses to count, “five bottles of Tequila and eight bottles of Vodka?”

Hoseok frowns in concern. “Eight? There should be ten, hyung, check again.”

Seokjin actually gasps, this time. “What the hell, Jung Hoseok? Explain yourself before I start throwing hands!”

Hoseok smacks a palm against his forehead, taking Seokjin by surprise, yet again. “Tonight’s the Halloween party, hyung! Did you actually forget?”

Seokjin screws his eyes shut, letting his head roll back with a frustrated whine. “No~o, don’t tell me it's tonight. Halloween’s tomorrow, right? Why is the party tonight?”

“Yes, hyung, Halloween in tomorrow, which is why it would be stupid to hold the party when Halloween is ending.”

Seokjin finds the logic to be very severely flawed, but his energy is draining out fast and he cannot keep up with this quarrel. There’s no point, anyway. He’s known about this party for nearly a month. And Hoseok isn’t going to postpone a whole party just because Seokjin is tired.

“You look tired, hyung. You should rest. Recharge yourself before the party, okay? There’s plenty of time.” Hoseok pats Seokjin on the shoulder with a kind smile.

“I’m not even in the mood to party, Hobi,” Seokjin mutters, reaching behind all the glass bottles to extract his pack of cans. 

Hoseok scowls at Seokjin. “Because you’re upset about your fight, I realize that. All the more reason to party, hyung! Take your mind off it for some time, why don’t you? You don’t even have to dress up, come as yourself.”

“I’d rather just drink myself to sleep and not wake up for the next twenty four hours.”

Hoseok blocks his path as Seokjin moves to exit the kitchen. “Is Honey coming?”

Seokjin sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, Hobi. Did you invite her?”

“No, hyung, because you said you would.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue. He completely forgot. “Then she isn’t coming.”

Without listening to his protests, Seokjin trudges upstairs with his food and beer. He will be forced to come down for at least a couple shots, he is certain, so he better make as much of the time he has on his hands as he can.

These days, it seems to be becoming a pattern for you to do things without really understanding why you do them. 

You nibble at your bottom lip as you recall how gaunt and pale Seokjin had looked when you sat in the car. You had been really self-centered as it is, not really keeping in touch with him for four days, and then reaching out when you needed help. You couldn’t bear to think, on top of everything, that he had driven you home despite his extreme exhaustion while you sat back selfishly and let him drive around the city to pick Jimin up when he looked like a ghost.

You shake your head at yourself as Jimin jogs down the road to enter the car, ten seconds after you texted him. 

His gaze is slightly hesitant when he meets your eyes, even though his smile is nothing but genuine. “Hello, noona. How come you are…” he trails off, gesturing around the two of you.

You start the car, shrugging one shoulder. “Seokjin came to pick me up. Now you’re gonna drop me off.”

Jimin gives you a huge smile, before his eyebrows suddenly lower. You look away, veering onto the road. “Wait. Were you in the car with him when I called?”

You chuckle. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles around a small laugh.

You hum to yourself as you drive, distracting yourself from the thoughts that keep encircling your head. Seokjin is your boyfriend, no matter how mad you might be at him — you love him and care about him. Which is why you have tried to help him out. Not to mention, you felt slightly guilty, as it is, about calling him to pick you up. Why is your gesture of goodwill bothering you, then?

This is what you do for people you care about. Seokjin would do the same.

Your train of thoughts suddenly comes to a screeching halt.

Would he? Would he, really?

“You okay, noona?”

You jolt back from your thoughts, wide eyes turning to look at Jimin. “Wha—yes, yeah, I'm fine.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’re gripping the wheel really hard.”

You look at your tightly clenched fists, and immediately ease them. “Oh, uh. Sorry. A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Understandably,” Jimin mutters, looking out of the side window when you turn to look at him.

You purse your lips and press down on the accelerator. 

A few beats of silence pass between you two before Jimin clears his throat. “Can I say something?” he asks you in a soft voice, looking nothing like the seductive persona he puts forth to get ladies falling in his bed. 

You exhale. “Sure.”

“You, um. You are not just hyung’s girlfriend, you know?” he says slowly.

You scoff. “Of course, I do. I am also the very best server my restaurant has ever seen and the best struggling model you’ll ever meet, on the side.”

Jimin snorts, before giggling with his eyes closed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You do. But you do not want to face it. You want to be selfish, for once. You do absolutely know that you have been ignoring all the boys in your anger at Seokjin, but you absolutely do not wish to do anything about it. Not until you’ve resolved this tense air between you and Seokjin.

“You are also a part of our little family,” Jimin quietly finishes.

You suck your lips in at that. The word “family'' really gets to you. 

He’s right, isn’t he? 

All eight of you — well, nine, now, with the addition of Taehyung’s girlfriend — have been a family since the day you met these guys.

You smile as the memories start to filter in.

You had had a giant crush on Seokjin since the very first time you saw him in your Freshman year. Well, having a crush on the guy wasn’t that unheard of given how handsome he was. It also helped matters that he modelled for the cover page of your university’s journal within his first month in college. What surprised you was his reciprocated interest when you both finally got to know each other, thanks to Byulyi. Your current roommate was majoring in photography back then, and somehow roped the two of you into modelling for her portfolio. Seokjin asked you out during the sixth month of your Freshman year.

You recall being introduced to Yoongi in your Sophomore year, when he entered your college as a Music major. You found him laid back, calm but really sassy, and fun to be around. The three of you often hung out together, and you took immense pleasure in singling Seokjin out with the two of your sarcastic back and forths.

In your senior year, Hoseok transferred to your college as a Sophomore, and Taehyung and Jimin entered as Freshmen. 

Hoseok was literally the most lively person you’d ever met in your life. There wasn’t a single moment of boredom next to him. He was easily given the responsibility of planning all your outings and parties, henceforth — a position he still holds with full competence.

Taehyung was usually found to be lost in his head more often than not in his initial college days. He was confused about his major for two entire semesters. With inputs from the group, when he eventually picked Art, he eased into college life. After that, he came out to be one of the weirdest and unwittingly funny guys in the group. You still don’t get how he was the first amongst all the boys to find him a girl.

Jimin was a really quiet and reserved individual, at first. He very rarely interacted with you all, choosing to stay holed up in his dorm room, instead, that Taehyung had forced him to share with him. You suspected he was recovering from a recent heartbreak. It became evident when he started dating someone within a week of getting into college, only to confess it was a rebound when he got dumped. The whoring around that began after the whole debacle is yet to cease, though. Obviously. 

Hoseok comes from a really well-off family, and had brought along with him the four-bedroom apartment he currently resides in with Yoongi, Jimin and your boyfriend. His uncle gave it away to him, rent-free of course, and he proposed to share it with the rest of the guys. Seokjin and Yoongi were immediately on board, more than eager to leave the chaotic dorm life behind. Taehyung, contrarily, decided he wanted to get the whole college experience and refused to quit the dorms. Jimin, then, left the dorm he shared with Taehyung to move in with the elders.

You met Jungkook immediately after your graduation on the boy’s eighteenth birthday. He instantly struck you as a smart kid, really good at singing as well as art. Yoongi disclosed he wanted to be a music major in your college, and you tried to encourage Jungkook about it, but the guy could hardly even look at you. It was cute but also hilarious how much he was scared of Seokjin, and by principle, you.

You believe that is still true. Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you haven’t seen Jungkook ever actually relax around the two of you.

“Noona?”

You blink, coming back to the present as Jimin calls out to you. You take a deep breath, the memories hitting you with tender emotions. All these people are really precious to you, aren’t they? The bunch of you really are a family, aren’t you?

A sad smile swims up to your face. You miss the boys.

When he calls again, you turn to look at Jimin, questioningly. 

“Please don’t be mad at hyung,” he slowly says, looking down at his lap. In this moment, he looks quite unlike the Jimin you are used to and reminds you of, instead, the one you’d first met. “He might lack tact, sometimes, but he really loves you a lot. You’re his whole world. Whatever it is that you are angry about, you should tell him about it. I don’t think he would be able to figure it out by himself.”

This, you agree with. “I’ll try, Jiminie.”

“We all miss you. Especially Hobi hyung and I,” he says with a lopsided excuse of a smile. 

You resist the urge to fluff his hair. Jimin and Hoseok have been like the younger brothers you never had. You miss them, too. 

He suddenly chuckles. "And Yoongi hyung hides it well, but I think he's the one that misses you the most. No one helps him roast Jin hyung quite like you do."

You roll your eyes. "Of course not. It's a waste for Yoongi to even try to find a better partner at roasting Jin."

You spot your apartment building and pull up to it. 

“I’ll try to talk to Jin as soon as I can, Jimin, I promise. Don't worry so much about it,” you say as you step out, patting the boy once on his head. "I miss you all, too."

You give a small wave and faint smile to him as he drives away.

tagging: @shrimpmsg​

note: so! a lil bit of backstory and the infamous halloween party - how we feelin’ so far? the next part is ~12k words, too, and i’ll post it next wednesday, wait around~ 😘💕

SECOND PART OUT NOW: read here!

© jimilter | 2021

[realcube]

haikyuu!! characters with a chubby! s/o 💗

characters: tsukishima, oikawa, atsumu, osamu & suna

thank you anon for this cute request 🥺

tw// comfort, fluff, angst if you squint, insecure! reader, swearing, they/them reader but reader wears a dress (in osamu’s)

(a/n): anon requested comfort but i feel bad bc i’m writing this like ‘no, (y/n)! stop being sad! you’re beautiful! 😡’ then i remember that i can just select+delete the pain away💗💖

Kei Tsukishima

let’s not pretend like tsukki gives a fuck what you look like tbh ✋

like nobody is ‘perfect’ and everyone is insecure (to varying degrees) so why would he care about your weight?

nobody ticks every single box to meet society’s definition of ‘beauty’  

plus, tsukki thought beauty standards were stupid away so he created his own - and you meet every single one 💖

in fact, almost everyone meets his beauty standards - besides himself ‘:)

he seriously doesn’t care about your weight tbh, it’s the most trivial thing so why would he care?

although, he wasn’t naïve enough to think that everyone was like-minded

your front of ‘i don’t care about what other people think of me’ was strong enough to fool even the most observant of poeple, including tsukki

however, tsukishima failed to take into consideration that you were his girlfriend, meaning that you could be playing the same game as him; ‘pretend to not care about superficial things like beauty so nobody will think for a second that you are insecure about your body’

he wasn’t one to give compliments but neither were you tbh so the mutual agreement y’all have of ‘let’s call each other names as a form of endearment to avoid those awkward moments were you are looking for the right words for praise but can’t come up with anything’  was fair

but after you accidentally sent him a self-deprecating ‘joke’ message that was clearly meant for a friend, he never passed up the opportunity to compliment you ever again

like he kinda just stared at the message like 😮 ‘does (y/n) seriously care about their weight? why? it doesn’t even matter. how stupid! who told them that the shape of their body is important? bc it’s not..’

then he turns to look in the mirror like ‘wow you srsly need to put on muscle, lanky bitch. or else (y/n) will probably leave you for some built jackass like kuroo. pick up some weights, noodle arms!’

anyway, he’s not too good with words and comfort in situations like these but he’ll probably reply to your text with something out-of-character and surprisingly sweet

to paraphrase (bc the actual text would probably be like a whole damn persuasive essay LMAO he starts with the introduction, makes five points and finishes with a conclusion pfft) , i think it would be something like: ‘hey, (y/n). ik that text was probably meant for one of your friends (but if they’re the ones making you feel bad about your weight then you should probably drop those toxic cunts anyway 💅✨) but i just wanted to say that even though you are the biggest clown i’ve ever met (/j) you’re still v beautiful 💗 stop being insecure or i’ll pass away ⚰💀 ok thx love you bye’

Tōru Oikawa

how are you insecure if you’re dating oikawa? /j

like he is such a hypeman

whenever y’all take pics in your ✨fancy outfits ✨ for formal event, he acts as though you are second most beautiful thing on the face of this earth 😍 (second to him ofc)

but he only does that so he can keep up the reputation he has of being effortlessly confident bc he’s scared that if it slips for even a second, everyone will see how truly insecure he is

truthfully, in his eyes, you come first place by miles (❤ ω ❤)

like srsly, you’re so gorgeous in that dress!! he hopes that you know that he is joking about the whole ‘second place’ thing bc you should be able to tell by the way he looks at you that you’re genuinely the most striking person he’s ever laid his eyes on 

you never acted overly confident in front of him but he definitely didn’t think you were as insecure as you are

he thought you were just..humble :)

sometimes he’d hear you mutter something mean about yourself as you passed the mirror but he paid no mind to it as he figured that you just cared about your appearance and wanted to maintain a certain image

however, once he was made aware that you didn’t want to maintain your image but rather, change it - he never let you murmur anything nasty about yourself under your breath ever again, not without proceeding to tackle you to the ground and shower you with his love, affection & praise 💞💕❤

and he never made a ‘second place’ joke ever again, he started his honesty streak by reassuring you that you’ll always be the number one in his eyes 🤩

also, after that, he was a lot more open about his own insecurities with you and you made sure to respect them and help him in a similar way that he did

there is just so much love and admiration between the two of you and at first you were both to shy to express it but now, you both are showering each other in compliments 24/7 bc you both just want the other one to know how perfect you view them as (❁´◡`❁)

Atsumu Miya

atsumu is a hypeman like oikawa but...better :)

IT’S BC HE HAS NO SHAME

he’ll compliment you on anything you wear and he makes it a point to use the most inappropriate compliment as possible, relative to the outfit you’re wearing

so if you’re wearing your pyjamas, he’ll call you ‘glamourous’

if you are wearing a swimsuit, he’ll call you ‘elegant’

if you’re in your work clothes/school uniform, he’ll call you ‘sexy’

and if you’re in lingerie, he’ll call you ‘adorable’

but it makes you blush so hey, no complaints

so when he finds out that you’re actually insecure about your weight, he’s just like ‘no ❤’

like he hates the idea that when you look in the mirror, you don’t see the god(dess) he sees

like why? it’s the same person

💞 fuck ‘perception’ 💞

💕 ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ TF YOU ARE THE FUCKING BEAUTY💕

grrr he was so mad  

but he was also soft 

he was like ‘if (y/n) insecure? then why hot? then why pretty? then why fit perfectly into my arms?’

plus, THIGHS

he’d never diss a person bc they had small thighs or anything BUT he’d also NEVER complain about being given the chance to be with someone with some good thighs 👍

tbh the best could do to help was compliment you ten times harder to eliMINATE ALL YOUR INSECURIES 

(and ofc i don’t mean that in a way - for example - if you’re insecure about your nose, he’ll fkn chop it off......he won’t chop your nose off LMAO he’ll just show you how much he loves it, to the point where you have no choice but to love it too ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ )

anyway, plz love (or at least, tolerate) yourself or else he’ll suffocate you with all his love and affection :D

Osamu Miya

osamu is at a loss when it comes to typical beauty standards tbh

to him, weight (and most things) are similar to..hand size, for example

just like how you can’t imagine someone feeling self-conscious about the size of their hand (especially if their hand is a healthy size) 

he can’t imagine why some one would be shamed for their weight (especially if they’re a healthy size)

so had no idea you could possibly be insecure about something like that and he probably on realised after a few years in the relationship 😅

there was a formal event coming up and y’all were going as dates so you wanted to shop for outfits together 

as couples do ✌

anyway, he was on a dress site, scrolling away until you pointed out one that you thought was pretty - and it matched the color of the tie osamu bought too!

it was a fair price (for a formal dress 🙄 which is probably like $68/50) so osamu was like ‘buy it then ( •̀ ω •́ )✧’  bc he thought it would so gorgeous on you 

but you were like ‘no’

and after he pried further, you explained how you thought it wouldn’t ‘suit your body type’ 

GRRR HE dislikes IT WHEN PPL SAY THIS SO MUCH BC HOE YOU DON’T HAVE A BODY TYPE YOU’VE GOT A BODY 😡💕 WEAR THE DAMN DRESS IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BEAUTIFUL 

but like deadass it’s not your blood type-  it’s just a thing ppl made up to make ppl (mostly women) feel bad about themselves for no reason

but that might just be his inner atsumu talking 🤷‍♂️

he didn’t even know what to say at first- he was just like ????? body type ????

but once he figured out what you meant, he still had no idea what to say- at least, without sounding rude

what if someone came up to you and told you they were insecure about the shape of their knee.......what do you even say???

so he was silent for like the rest of the day

you decided to give him some space just in case something happened which had upset him

he had no idea what to say, in all honesty, so he hoped that his actions spoke louder than words 

around 3 days had passed since you last spoke to osamu and you were beginning to think something you had said made him uncomfortable

you were studying in your room until there was a ring at your door so you rushed downstairs and you opened it to reveal a package sitting on your doormat

you had recently ordered some cleaning equipment so you were sure that the content of the package was probably that

so imagine your surprise when you tear it open to reveal  — you guessed it —  the dress 💕

Rintarō Suna

when he says that he doesn’t care what ppl look like, he means it

he upkeeps his own appearance though bc..it’s his!

like why would he care about what weight you are? that’s none of his business

as you can tell, he’s generally not shallow but sometimes when y’all are just cuddling and your face is pressed to his chest, the words ‘you’re so cute’ just fall from his lips

so ofc he appreciates compliments over his skills, personality, humour etc over flattery about his appearance 

hence, the praise he gives you is usually based around those things too bc he just thinks that you’re just like him in the fact you don’t appreciate skin-deep comments

so when he found out that you’re actually insecure about your weight (or something else), he kinda blames himself

he thinks that the whole reason you’re not extremely confident in your appearance is all due to him and the fact he fact he maybe didn’t compliment you on your looks enough  — but that’s not to say that he doesn’t think you’re beautiful 

you’re the most radiant person he’s ever laid his eyes on and he thought you knew that regardless of whether he vocalised it or not

he wasn’t really sure what to do tbh

bc he loved you and wanted to comfort you ofc but he was scared of making things worse

like what if something he says accidentally makes you so upset that you break-up with him 😭

but he knew he couldn’t just stay silent about the issue, especially when he wanted to say to much

thus, he sent you a heartfelt message on discord 

(rather than snap, whatsapp etc so he could edit it after he posts it bc knowing him, he’ll probably write something, reread it ten times then as soon as he hits send, he spots a bunch of mistakes)

and he’d explain how you’re simply divine regardless of your insecurity and if anything, it just makes you cuter 😍

ok ok so i really don’t want it so seem like he has a fetish bc HE DOESN’T 

but he think your curves are so fun and pretty ❤ 

like everything about you is pretty but suna just can’t comprehend why you’re insecure about something like your weight when he literally adores it (bc he adores everything about you) 

[jjinnies]

silk sheets — min yoongi (full book) | CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTIONS.

Warnings ─ profanity, mild references to sex.

previous chapter — next chapter 

The woman was absolutely knackered.

Whatever composure she had tried to maintain for the whole day at the office was soon shattered once she had walked through the wooden door of her self-made, two-bedroom apartment.

Just seeing her beloved haven of comfort almost made her drop to the floor like a dead fly.

Her work day had been anything but relaxing.

In fact, looking around at her somewhat organised home had already lightened her mood a little as her eyes glanced over to observe the time. It was only 5:30 p.m., and yet, that seemed to stand as an indication of her having an hour to herself before she would get up again to order some take-out for dinner.

As she trudged away from the front door of her now closed apartment, her fingers found purchase in her sleek black ponytail, causing it to ruin soon after as she tugged the hair tie away from her. The formal business pin-striped suit that she wore was constricting, so she now removed her perfectly-fitted coat to swap her clothes out for an embarrassingly pink set of pyjamas.

Of course, no one from work had ever seen Jiha like this, fuzzy socks and all.

And who could blame the woman? Her position as senior manager of the Park Enterprises had physically forced her to behave in a manner considered nothing less than strictly professional. After all, she was one of the main representatives of the large company - tarnishing their reputation would result in her immediate termination and denial of all office privileges.

And that was something no sane person would ever wish to lose.

─

A full day at home left the man's back feeling sore and broken, his nap being interrupted as soon as his best friend of four years had walked through the door of his stale apartment. The scent of cigarette smoke combined with the odd whiff of sweat fumed the air as Jimin and Jungkook explored the depths of darkness their home-bound friend had inhabited.

"Yoongi, how many times have I told you to stop eating cheap ramen all day?" Jimin exclaimed in disgust, his position as a CEO literally gleaming in the older male's face as his elegant 'Park Enterprises' badge reflected the only visible streak of light entering the room.

Throwing the half-dozen cups of instant noodles away in the barely used trash-can, the accompanying man in the room - who was also a close friend of Yoongi's - scoffed.

"You seriously need to get a job," Jungkook muttered under his breath, now fully focused on the way Yoongi laid on his old couch carelessly as his two friends cleaned up after him.

Jimin only nodded in agreement, his hand now desperately moving to protect his nose with a handkerchief as Jungkook found himself dropping a wet pair of black, lacy panties onto the floor once trying to collect all of the older male's clothes in a makeshift laundry basket.

Needless to say, Yoongi never did his own laundry.

"Another woman? Really, Yoongi? What happened to Jessica?" Jungkook stated, now rubbing his fingers against his thigh to rid himself of what he presumed not to be water as his eyebrows furrowed into a knot of exasperation.

Jimin only sighed, giving Yoongi a knowing glare as he shook his head in disbelief: of course, he had only wanted her as a temporary fix.

"She started getting too clingy. Asked me to meet her brother and parents after three weeks of dating. Ended up sobbing when I told her commitment wasn't really my thing," the male laying down mumbled, now closing his eyes and chuckling softly as Jungkook threw a shirt that wasn't doused in copious scents inexpensive cologne to Yoongi's face.

Even cockroaches lived in Yoongi's apartment for longer than women did.

"Put a shirt on, Min. You need to learn how to take care of yourself and not mooch off of Jimin's earnings. How do you expect to settle down when you're a literal slob?" Jungkook angrily questioned. His hand wrapped around his boss and close friend, Jimin's wrist, as he stopped said male from cleaning any further.

"Who said I was looking to ruin my life by getting married?" Yoongi questioned, his own anger building up as a defence-mechanism. But Jimin only opened the dark curtains of the living room, allowing some light and fresh air to touch the dusty surfaces of his lethargic friend's apartment.

"Oh, grow up, would you?" Jungkook questioned, now squinting his eyes in frustration as the full force of the afternoon glow itself forced all men in the room to avert their eyes. "Quarter past eleven tomorrow, Yoongi - I've organised a booking for your interview with Jimin and I to be conducted tomorrow at the office. If you're going to rely on your friend for your luxurious lifestyle, you may as well start repaying him now with some effort," the hot-headed man lectured, his body now moving to pull Yoongi up off the couch once he had begrudgingly put his shirt on.

"I have to work now?" the oldest friend in the room groaning as he stared at his friend Jimin's sympathetic expression in disdain.

"With 100% effort," Jungkook answered, rubbing salt in the wounds as he scoffed and pushed past the two males to get out of the expensive but uncared-for apartment as Jimin followed.

Yoongi only stood on his two feet stubbornly, watching Jungkook run his fingers through his soft hair and smirking evilly in accomplishment. How he wished to strangle the bunny-looking beast at this very moment. That perfect, bunny-toothed, sharp-jawed, muscular little-

His thoughts were soon grounded back to reality as Jimin shook his shoulder carefully to rid him of his daze.

"Jungkook and I were going to go out to grab a bite to eat together - would you like to join us, hyung? It's on me," Jimin kindly offered, his hand still remaining on the older man's shoulder as he quirked an eyebrow upwards in confusion to Yoongi's spaced-out behaviour.

Yoongi, however, only smiled, giving his famous lopsided grin to Jungkook before sending a genuine, gummy smile his shorter friend's way.

"Only if your protective boyfriend Jungkook doesn't force me to sit through too much of your PDA," Yoongi smartly remarked, fondly ruffling Jimin's newly dyed hair as he sent a shit-eating grin to a petty-looking Jeon.

And god, would dinner be memorable.

[escapewithbts]

Forgetful - Seokjin

———————————————

You sat at the two person table by yourself just staring mindlessly at the menu. You could probably recite the whole entree list by heart at this point.

The dimly lit restaurant was crowded and filled with noises; dishes clanking, people laughing, the soft tune of music. It would have been the perfect atmosphere… had you not been there alone.

 You sighed and glanced at your beautiful (and expensive) watch… one of the many gifts given to you by your boyfriend last Christmas.

 It was 8:43. Your reservation had been for 43 minutes ago.

 “Excuse me,” the perfect-looking hostess came up to you for the third time and spoke to you in Korean, “but we are super busy, as you can probably tell, and if you’re not going to order then we really need your table.”

 You frowned and glanced down at your phone. Still no texts or missed calls.

 “I know, I’m so sorry, can I just wait until nine? I don’t know why he’s taking so long, I’m sure he’s on his way…”

 “So you’ve said,” she replied with a fake smile, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder and walking away.

 Wow rude, much?

 You stared at your phone, your vision becoming blurry from the tears forming in your eyes. You hoped everything was okay with him. And you couldn’t help but wonder if he forgot.

 You scrolled through his texts, the last from this morning around 10:30am saying he was beginning the shoot for the latest Run BTS! Episode and he would see you later. You assumed that meant here.

But he never showed.

 You touched his contact to give him a call, but again it just rang and rang until you were again met with the automatic voicemail. You sighed and typed him another text.

Hey I’m leaving the restaurant now. I hope you’re okay. Please call or text when you get this.

 Then you grabbed your things, stood up and walked towards the exit of the restaurant.

 “Oh my god, it’s about time she left,” you heard the hostess whisper to someone as you walked passed her podium, “She claimed to be meeting a member of BTS here for dinner!”

 Her snickering was the last thing you heard as you pushed open the door and went back out into the warm Seoul night.

By the time you made it home to your and Jin’s shared apartment you were exhausted and your feet absolutely ached from the heels you were wearing. You unlocked the door and went inside, immediately removing them and rubbing your swollen soles.

All of a sudden, you heard noises coming from the living room. Jin was home?

When you turned the corner there he was, sitting on the couch, laughing at some show playing on the tv and eating ramen from a bowl on his lap.

Your heart sank. He was okay. So what you had feared was true after all. He just forgot.

Forgot your one-year anniversary dinner.

“Oh hi, (y/n)-ah!” he exclaimed when he finally noticed you standing there, a heap of noodles dangling out of his mouth.

He swallowed them and continued,

“Wow, you look really pretty! Did you go out with your friends?”

Your eyes instantly welled up with tears and a couple fell down your cheeks before you could stop them. You tried to swipe them away abruptly with the back of your hand but Jin still noticed.

“Jagi, what’s wrong?”

He set his bowl on the coffee table in front of him and rose from his seat on the couch to walk over to you.

He reached his arms out to hold you, but you instantly stepped back to avoid his embrace.

He cocked his head and furrowed his eyebrows confusingly, his large red lips turning into a frown.

“Jagiya? Is everything okay?”

You sniffled and glared at him.

“So you just don’t check your phone anymore?”

He immediately reached into the front pocket of his trousers and pulled it out.

“Aiishh it must have still been on silent from the shoot today. I’m sorry if I missed-”

He stopped mid sentence as he finally observed all your missed calls and read your texts.

His face fell.

“Oh… fuck. (y/n). Shit.”

He looked up at you, an expression of worry and guilt evident on his handsome face.

“(y/n), jagi, I’m so so so sorry. Fuck! I-I completely forgot. I got caught up with work and- ”

You put your hand up to silence him.

“I don’t want to hear it, Seokjin.”

He winced. He knew you only called him by his full first name on two occasions: one when you were really really pissed at him, the other when he was making really really good love to you… and right now it certainly was not the latter.

You brushed passed him and headed toward the hallway. You were tired and hurt, and now to top it all off you had a massive headache. All you wanted to do at this point was take a shower, go to bed and forget this evening ever happened.

But you heard Jin follow you toward your shared bedroom.

“(y/n), please, I’m really sorry. I know there aren’t any excuses. I fucked up. I really, really fucked up.”

You scoffed, not turning back to face him.

“Yeah, you think?”

He paused in thought for a moment.

“Well, what if-what if we celebrate now? I can cook you up some really delicious food, all your favorite foods from home! And-and we can light some candles, have dinner, spend the whole rest of the night together…”

You stopped in the bedroom doorway and swung your whole body around to face him again.

“No. It’s too late, Jin. I waited at the restaurant for an hour for you. I’m exhausted, okay? I just want to go to bed,” you paused, “So please. Just leave me alone.”

Jin’s shoulders fell in defeat as his gaze went to the floor. His arm lifted to scratch the back of his neck.

“O-okay,” he whispered.

Then he squinted his eyes tightly shut, and that was the last thing you saw as you let the bedroom door close in his face.

The warm shower felt amazing on your body, but you couldn’t help the thoughts that plagued your mind while in there. Jin had forgotten arguably the most important date in a relationship. What was next? Your birthday? The next anniversary? It made you feel like your relationship wasn’t important to him, like you were an afterthought. It hurt your heart.

Once you were clean and out of the shower, you changed into a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Your head still ached immensely; you had hoped the shower would have fixed that, but all that overthinking had only made it worse. You knew Jin usually kept some pain medication in his nightstand for when his body was sore after a particularly grueling day of dancing, so you proceeded to his side of the bed and sat down on the edge, reaching for the top drawer.

Immediately upon opening it you spotted a red envelope, “My (y/n)” written across the top in Jin’s messy handwriting. You hesitated for a second whether or not to investigate it, but ultimately, with a shaky hand, you pulled it out. You took a deep breath before opening it and removing the card inside.

In an elegant font, the front of the card read ‘Happy Anniversary to the one I want to annoy for the rest of my days’, and written on the inside ‘Hey, that’s you!’.

You couldn’t help but stifle out a small chuckle, accompanied with an eye roll, of course. It was so Jin. Your Jin.

Your eyes then scanned his handwritten message next.

Jagiya,

 Congratulations! You have been chosen by WWH Worldwide Handsome Kim Seokjin himself as the person who gets to be annoyed by him for the rest of your life! Don’t you feel so honored? It’s a coveted position, there’s only one spot, and you got it! We’ll talk about the details later 😉

No, but seriously, my (y/n), thank you for putting up with me for a whole year. I know I can be pretty obnoxious, silly, stupid, goofy, forgetful (ha, he got that one right for sure), busy and sometimes moody, but you have stuck with me through it all and I appreciate it. You are so special and I hope you know how lucky I feel to have you. You’re so supportive and patient and kind. I can’t wait to share many more anniversaries with you.

All my love,

Jin

You clutched the card to your chest, tears streaming down your face again. But this time you weren’t upset. You were touched. His words definitely didn’t excuse what he did (or rather didn’t do) this evening, but at least you knew how he truly felt about you. He really did love you. Your heart suddenly felt full.

You stood up, holding the card tightly, opening the bedroom door to go find him.

 “Jin?” you yelled down the hall. But, to your surprise, he was right outside the bedroom doorway, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, his long legs spread out in front of him, his phone in his hands.

“Jin I-“

But he quickly stood up and turned his phone to face you.

“Jagiya, look I downloaded an app where you can save all your important dates! And you can set it up for reminders days, even weeks beforehand! So I put in today, of course, and your birthday, but please don’t think I would ever forget that, and the day we went on our first date, the day I first cooked for you, the day-“

He stopped speaking when you suddenly stood on your tip toes and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. He immediately wrapped his around your lower back and squeezed you into him.

 “I’m just so sorry, jagi.” he mumbled into your hair.

You nodded against his broad shoulder.

“I know.”

You pulled away and presented the card.

“I found this.”

Jin’s ears promptly turned bright red and he closed his eyes tightly. Then he put his head in his hands.

“Aiissh, it’s so cheesy, I’m sorry.”

You placed your hand on his upper arm, making him glance back down at you.

“No, Jinnie, not at all. It’s perfect. I loved it.”

He smiled, wrinkles forming at the sides of his eyes.

“See? I didn’t completely forget! I knew it was coming up. I just didn’t exactly remember when we were going to dinner and I should have-”

You placed your lips on his in a tender kiss to shut him up again. He pulled you closer to him, so your bodies were completely touching before you broke apart, still attached at the foreheads.

“Mmm Happy One Year Anniversary, my (y/n)-ah,” he breathed out.

You nuzzled your face into his strong neck.

“Happy Anniversary, my Worldwide Handsome.”

*

Masterlist

Hehe

[shy-peacock]

Hi! I'm a big fan of your works! I'd like to present you a prompt idea😘 : Either of them is completely oblivious that it's their anniversary, and the other drops several hints for all day.

I sorta already did this prompt with them both forgetting their anniversary! But I'll do another short one for fun ;)

Rated G-ish

Raya had absolutely no clue what she had done to deserve this. All of the gifts being sent her way from flowers to sweet fruit and candies, an oversized bear that the dogs claimed as their community bed already. Letters of love and adoration and, when she did come home, it was to a spotless house and a meal that would be at the table shortly. Her wife sitting there looking way too sexy in an elegant dress, especially as she met her halfway to the kitchen, giving her a long kiss that Raya wasn’t quite sure how her dark lipstick stayed in place.

“What’s the occasion?” Raya laughed, sitting down at the table.

Before Namaari could say a word, Chau walked up with his fanciest clothes and an impromptu mustache drawn on his lips.

“Hello Madams-” he said in a very…odd..accent, “here are your menus!”

He handed them each a piece of paper that had one word written down on it.

Spaghetti.

“Hard to choose.” Raya joked, “the selection is just..immense..”

“Might I suggest…the pot pie?” he offered before dramatically tsking, “ooh..my apologies, we just ran out-!”

“They both really wanted to be a part of this.” Namaari mentioned, waving at their son and his getup, “clearly.”

“Spaghetti sounds good-” Raya stated.

“Impeccable choice, my lady-!” he announced, “now, for the wine selection-”

“Chau, you know we don’t have wine in the house-”

“Water it is!” he cheered, running then towards their laundry room or, as they call it, their makeshift kitchen. Chau’s voice echoing into the room where Linh was clearly at, yelling out orders for her to cook.

“Okay, but seriously…what’s the occasion?” Raya asked, still confused and now a little guilty as Namaari couldn’t hide the disappointment in her eyes.

“It’s our anniversary!” she said, nonchalantly, “remember last year we forgot it, so I wanted to make sure we-”

Raya placed her hand on her wife’s, stopping her immediately mid-sentence.

“Honey…it’s next week.”

“What’s next week?”

“Our anniversary-”

“No…No, I checked it!”

“Maari, check again-...”

Namaari pulled out her personal calendar on her phone, scrolling through her calendar until she stopped. Face first going pale and then bright red, still Raya couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, this is still great!” Raya said, trying to soothe her as she ran a thumb across her hand, “it’s still super sweet of you..and of course, I love you for trying to get the date right.”

Namaari gave her a small smile, still clearly embarrassed. So Raya got up and went to her, sitting in her lap so she could kiss her again. Her wife’s arms wrapping around her torso to keep her from falling.

“Besides..you got yourself all wrapped up nicely for me..I don’t intend to let it go to waste.” she husked, making her intentions clear by her tone alone. Practically feeling Namaari shiver beneath her at the promise, eager for that evening already.

“Order up!” Chau and Linh called and the two each brought a plate of spaghetti to their table.

Or..what should have been spaghetti. Looking more like undercooked noodles and what was possibly ketchup. The two ran back to the kitchen while the parents looked down at the disastrous meal. Namaari gave Raya a soothing pat on her leg.

“We-..actually have delivery coming..but I didn’t want to squash their spirits…” Namaari mentioned, “I wouldn’t eat that.”

“Oh thank God..” Raya sighed, relieved.

[robinrequiems]

Now that you mentioned it, can I have some track star player! Damian and basketball captain! Jon 👀

👀

• Baskebtall November-march, & outdoor track & soccer is March-June. pspspspspsps! I know Jack shit about sports (:

• in freshmen year, damian found himself bored, he had so much built up on energy that he needed to release. damians not a.. team player, so he joined a sport that didn’t really require you to be a team player. track.

• damian could run okay? he could run fast. so it was perfect, so now, as a junior, he was known for winning the school track trophies but Damian wasn’t as well known as jon. captain of the basketball team, a boy cherished by the school for bringing home a trophy for the first time in years. their basketball team was bad, but then, little freshmen jonny joined

• he just joined for fun, he didn’t expect to get in, he also liked played basketball with his brother, so he just tried out. ( that’s what he said at least ) sure, at the start he wasn’t the best player, but then, during their first game? he was playing amazingly. apparently the boys great under pressure

• he slowly rose up in the team and became well known, there was always a girl or two chasing after him in the halls ( jon didn’t really care for them.. he was more interested in the track star )

• jon fell in love with damian. no.. well.. jon had a crush on him since freshmen year. why, you may ask? ..he likes his personality, jon remembers getting lost in the falls as a freshmen and then sophomore Damian going to help him. was he laughing at him? definitely.

• people said damian was rude, jon said otherwise. he may not know damain that well, but he could see kindness in him

• his team members called him a simp. he.. no.. he wasn’t a simp? all he did was defend damian

• people said jon didn’t even know damian, but jon feels like he’s known him for years.. like they were partners or something ( am i hinting at reincarnation and a potential reincarnation arc in this au 👁 or am I hinting at doing a reincarnation au? the world will never know)

• jon believes there’s more to Damian than people think

• Maya is the captain of the girls soccer team, Tai is apart of the basketball team, Kathy is a cheerleader, and billy is a football player

• damian is friends with maya and sorta friends with tai due to club activities ( art ), & an acquaintance of Kathy because Maya is dating kathy ( today is a date I ship kathymaya )

• jon is friends with tai, Kathy ( childhood friends ), Maya ( Kathy’s gf so he knows Kathy’s gf ), & billy

• damian often saw jon in the halls, jon tried to smile at Damian, but damain just ignored them. he didn’t know Jon. stranger danger

• jons last game was coming yo, the championship, damians track season was about to start soon, the school was amped up

• it was the final game and jon was so hyped

Jon: Hey! Damian!

Damian:

Damian: what.

Jon: the um.. my last game.. it’s.. it’s friday.. and I was wondering if.. if you’d go?

Damian: I was already going.

Jon: really!

Damian: yes, tai invited me.

• a slight lie on damians part

• but he briefly heard tai ask Maya if she would come, and Maya normally brought Damian along ( much to his dismay.. )

• jon eyes lit up when he heard the name tai. Damian knows tai. TAI KNOWS DAMIAN

Jon: TAI

Tai: Jesus Christ, jon-

Jon: you know Dam— d a - frick - Damian

Tai: yeah?

Jon: set us up! match make! okay cupid!

Tai: are you sure english is your first language, ‘cause..

Jon; tai!

Tai: why do you even want to go out with him???

Jon: he’s pretty…

Tai: he’s mean

Jon: he is not!

• tai did not know what world jon wad living in

• but. tai was one of jons best friends so, he of course, tried to help:)

Tai: hey, shithead

Damian: oh my god, don’t talk to me

Tai: I need a favor

Damian: no.

Tai: you owe me.

• damian did owe him, tai took him to the er one time when he he fucked his ankle up after doing something stupid

Damian: what.

Tai: I need you to wear the number 3 to the game

Damian: 3– that’s - the boys- jons. why?

Tai: don’t ask.

• so that’s how Damian ended up wearing a shirt with the number 3 on it, Maya laughed at him

• oops. but Damian didn’t really care that much. but him wearing jons stupid number started rumors

• damian didn’t really label his sexuality, jon was openly bi, do that wasn’t the problem. the problem was that they thought they were dating

• damian didn’t like that and found it annoying. you see, damian didn’t really know of jons crush, he didn’t pay enough attention to the boy, it wasn’t like he was in any of his classes anyways.

• ( tai and Damian are sorta actually good friends, they have that insulty friendship and share a lot of classes, Maya is senior, along with Billy, Kathy’s a junior w/ tai n billy )

• damian really didn’t care for jon. at all.. until he actually saw him. the last time he saw jon. he was.. noodle like.

• now? he was not. he didn’t really fully pay attention to jon before. sure he’s saw his smile and face, but oh my god.

Damian: hes hot

Maya: what?

Damian: n.. nothing. Sorry.

• he did not mean to narrate his thoughts there. Damian didn’t care for team sports, but looking at jon play? wow.

• the way jon ran around, he was so. Elegant.

• damian was seriously ogling jon. Damian has never felt more embarrassed. he hates when people focused on his looks and here he was. doing the same. he wanted to commit mass murder. on himself. right now.

• meanwhile, Maya was just trying to watch her girlfriend who was sitting on the bench while Damian was having a mini breakdown on how shallow he was being

• ( told you guys, Damian will always be dramatic in any universe )

Maya: you good there-?

Damian: no.

Maya: great, it’s half time, I’m gonna go say hi to kathy

• he couldn’t believe Maya was leaving him in his misery

• meanwhile, jon was fsngirling. Damian was here. Damian. Wearing his number. Oh shit.

Jon: tai tai tai tai!!!!!!! Thank you thank you thank you!

Tai: yeah yeah, you owe me

• jon played so well that day too, they ended up winning the game. no one knew where jon got that sudden burst of energy when he was beginning to get tired, but he did

• and he got the winning shot

Kathy: geez, jon! good job!

Jon: thank you!

Maya: thought you guys were gonna lose

Tai: thanks Maya

Maya: anytime <3

Jon: I’m gonna say hi to damian, wish me luck!

Maya: luck wished

Tai: don’t combust when he looks at you!

• tai is the best wing man <3

• but anyways damians still in the bleachers, trying to hide from the world

Jon: Damian!

Damian: yes?

Jon: thanks for coming! I think you were my good luck charm

• jon should have not said that out loud, but he did.

• and Damian chose to just: not comment on it.

• a week or something later and it’s damians track meet

• he has started looking forward to jons smiles in the halls, but he still pretends that he never sees it. he learned a few things about jon, how he’s truly a sweetheart, probably the nicest person in the planet— as long as you don’t mess with his friends, and failing English class

• but damian doesn’t have the time to pine, he spends his hours now running, jumping hurdles, jumping, and yadayada.

• he was excited. he was. he was just: wow. he was hyped up, energy was building up in him as anticipation built up for the first meet. It was currently Monday, the first meet will be Wednesday. Three days.

• and in those three days, he was his own enemy. sleep- sleep did not come easily. Not at all. His thoughts kept him up and awake, thinking about the possibilities, it was absolute garbage.

Maya: geez, you look like a zombie

Damian: feel like one

Tai: hey dude did you bring th— ooh yikesss

Damian: shut up.

• damian was 100%my grumpy that day and glared at all passing bystanders

• but jon had began sitting at Damian’s table, along with Tai ( 😡 )

• damians table consisted of Maya, sometimes Kathy, Maps, && Colin. Colin was also apart of the track team

Jon: uh, D- are you okay?

Damian: mmhhhshshshjsnm

• jon and Damian started calling each other by D and J, they don’t know why, it just happened

• jon wanted to go to damians meet, but he didn’t exactly know if Damian would like that? it was.. complicated

• he didn’t even know if him and damian were friends, they barely even saw each other minus the small times in the hallway and lunch

• but he did go to damians track meet, damian would never admit that he liked that Jon was there