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whateveriwant · 4 years ago

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Just a Glance

Summary: Your anxiety’s been getting the best of you lately, feeling as if you’re being watched. Is your mind playing tricks on you, or will your fears be realized?

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: ~4.5k

Warnings: stalking, paranoia, implied NON-CON (no descriptions)

A/N: Hello! So, this is the follow-up to “Just a Taste”, but told from the reader’s perspective this time. While it’s not imperative you read that story first (or at all, really), I highly suggest you do so. As always: heed the warnings! And as a general disclaimer: I DO NOT condone the actions depicted below. To any and everyone who reads this, I hope you enjoy! Gif found here.

It’s Saturday morning – time to do your weekly grocery shopping. As always, the first stop is at the local farmer’s market. You like coming here not only for the fresh produce, but also to chat with the vendors you’ve become friendly with. You could spend all day talking with them – almost have once or twice – but you have other places you still need to hit today.

It doesn’t hurt to note that making good with the vendors may have some monetary benefits for you, but that’s just an added bonus – the cherry on top. Talking animatedly as the vendors package your slightly reduced-price items, you accidentally whack a few unsuspecting customers while gesturing wildly. You cringe and apologize profusely for your carelessness. Despite being assaulted, the patrons accept your apologies and wish you a good day – letting you off scot-free.

Next stop on your shopping trip is the supermarket. You buy the bulk of your items here: frozen goods, dairy products, various non-perishables. This store has almost everything you need, apart from a few essentials – some absolute necessities: your favorite madeleines, strawberry sorbet, and chocolate-covered pretzels amongst other things; these you can only get from one particular store. But, thankfully, it’s on the way home – your perishables won’t spoil while you run in and grab your few items.

You drive to the store, humming along to your playlist coming through the car’s speakers. When you arrive at the shop, it’s as bustling as ever. Many people must have similar mindsets to you: thinking this shop offers some of the most delicious treats in town. You walk through the familiar aisles knowing exactly where your favorite snacks are housed. You find the pretzels and madeleines easily enough, but can’t find the sorbet. It’s always on the same shelf in the same freezer, but not today.

You start strolling past the freezers, looking through each one – desperately hoping the sorbet’s just been moved and not sold out. Or worse, discontinued. As you search, you pay no mind to the other shoppers around you – your brain totally focused on your mission. Out of nowhere, you walk face-first into what seems to be a steel wall – almost falling on your ass and dropping your basket.

Upon steadying yourself, you realize you didn’t walk into a wall but, rather, a man. A very handsome man, at that. Damn, how did you miss that? Strong jaw, piercing blue eyes, built like a tank – he could be very intimidating if he wanted to be.

You apologize for bumping into him, explaining that you weren’t paying attention to where you were going. He brushes off your apology – all but warning you to watch yourself next time – before he continues past you. He wasn’t as friendly as the people from the farmer’s market, you remark. But it was your fault anyway, so you can’t really blame him for being terse with you.

You continue down the aisle until – hallelujah – you spot your prize. It seems they’d simply moved the sorbet to a different freezer. You grab it from the top shelf, dispense it in your basket, and finish shopping – easily finding the rest of your goodies. After purchasing and loading the items into your car, you drive home – absentmindedly singing to your music.

~~~~~

The following week passes by as usual. On Sunday morning, you meet with your friends for brunch. While Katherine had originally suggested checking out the new omelet place in town, you sided with Layla on wanting to go to your regular pancake house. Thus, you three catch up over fluffy, syrup-y flapjacks – discussing how your respective weeks went.

Nothing incredibly remarkable happened to any of you. Katherine mentions how her boss is hounding her lately, making an ugly face to mock him. Her expression makes you laugh, choking on a bite of pancake. Layla had a saucy date night with her boyfriend on Friday. Her descriptions cause you to pause mid-chew, imagining the position she's graphically detailing.

Your most exciting contribution to the conversation is the mini heart attack you had at the store yesterday. Your friends understand your reaction; having had a taste of your favorite sorbet before, they know why you went feral when searching for it. After eating, splitting the bill, and promising "same time next week", you all head in your separate directions.

Following Sunday brunch, you go to the bookstore – seeing if they’ve gotten any new titles in since last week. Browsing the shelves, you spot a new mystery novel that piques your interest. You buy the book, planning to read it during your lunch breaks and after work.

The remainder of your week follows in monotony. Work Monday through Friday, Netflix and novels during free time, occasional morning runs to burn off the calories from your insatiable sweet-tooth – your routine is well-ingrained into your system. On only one occasion did you forget to bring your new book to work – instead, bringing the one you finished the previous week. It’s not the first time this has happened. You can be forgetful when deviating from your routine.

Come Saturday, it's time to go grocery shopping again. As usual, the first stop is the farmer’s market, second is the supermarket, and third is your favorite store. Luckily, you haven’t run out of your pint of sorbet from last week. Thus, you don’t bother traipsing the freezer section. You did, however, gobble through the madeleines and pretzels – forcing you to replenish your stock.

Wading through the busy aisles, you zero in on your target: pretzels – top shelf, right-hand side. The aisle is crowded, making you have to squeeze past a few shoppers in order to get to your prize. As you reach up to grab the bag, you feel someone brush up against you – likely trying to squeeze behind just as you had done moments ago.

The scent of cedarwood and mint trails after the person, overpowering your sense of smell. That guy wears too much cologne, you chide. You turn your head to look at him, seeing his jacket-clad broad shoulders and blonde hair peeking from under his baseball cap. He must be in a hurry since he swiftly departs the aisle. But you’ve been in his place before: running into the store for only one or two items. In those instances, you didn’t bother grabbing a basket – just as he hadn’t today.

You purchase your few items, load your car, and drive out of the parking lot. Glancing in your rearview mirror, you notice a couple of cars also leaving the grocery store and heading in the same direction as you. You blast your playlist as you drive, impatiently waiting until you can get home and dig into your snacks.

~~~~~

The next few weeks pass more or less the same. Sunday mornings are spent brunching with your friends. You eventually cave and agree to try out the omelet place Katherine suggested; but, upon finding the meal lackluster, you all decide to stick with your usual restaurants next time.

You finish the novel you've been reading. The book was so intriguing that you decide to check out more of the author's work, buying another title from the bookstore. This one is similarly a mystery novel, but it's supposedly more chilling – has much more suspense that builds the feeling of dread in the audience.

You go on morning runs after you have one too many scoops of sorbet the prior night. Running your usual route, you pass by an unfamiliar car parked outside your neighbor's house. You didn't realize Mr. Nelson's son was in town again, assuming that's who the vehicle belongs to. You've never met the man before, but he must be kind-hearted seeing as he's willing to visit and care for his elderly father. Maybe you’ll get a chance to meet him soon.

The days come and go. Working through the week, shopping on the weekend, reading in your free time – nothing is intrinsically different. And yet, something feels off. You can’t explain it. You just have a feeling – a sixth sense, almost. And the sensation only grows as the weeks progress.

At times, you feel as if someone is watching you – boring holes into you. No matter where you are – home, work, shopping – you feel like there’s a set of eyes on you, observing you closely. Furthermore, sometimes you swear you can see a shadow lingering in the corner of your eye. But when you turn to look directly at it, it’s disappeared – vanished in an instant.

Your friends and coworkers notice you getting lost in your thoughts, having to snap you from your daze. When you explain the sensation you’re experiencing, they brush you off – none of them finding any evidence to support your claims. You also don’t have any tangible proof for your assertions, just that feeling in your gut.

You decide to chalk it all up to the novel you’re reading. Must be the book’s foreboding feeling carrying over into real life, you rationalize. Resolving to ignore the pestering thoughts popping up in the back of your mind, you try to continue about your days as normal.

~~~~~

It’s Monday morning – time to go to work. On the drive there, you stop to get your coffee – turning down your music so you don’t have to scream your order through the drive-through. Once you reach the office, you make busy at your desk: going through your emails, checking your calendar; all the usual routine.

A couple of hours into your work, you have that sensation you’ve been feeling the last few weeks. You’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring it lately, but you occasionally happen a glance just to humor yourself. When you turn to look towards the shadow – expecting to see nothing as usual – you gasp.

A burly man stands outside your office window, inches away from the glass. His face is partially obscured by his aviators and baseball cap. Though you can’t see his eyes, you know his gaze is directed at you. You stare back at him, a look of confusion crossing your face. He curls one corner of his lip up before walking away – out of your line of sight.

Swiveling your chair to face your coworker, you ask her if she saw that man outside the window. She doesn’t know what you’re referring to, being too wrapped up in her work to notice anything else. Despite her lack of confirmation, you know you’re not going crazy; there was most definitely a man out there watching you. An uneasy feeling washes over you. Maybe those pestering thoughts aren’t so unfounded, you worry.

Throughout the rest of your day, you continue looking towards the windows – expecting him to show up again. He doesn’t return that day. However, the following morning, you see him again – standing outside your office wearing his hat and sunglasses like last time. Once he catches your eye, he smirks, before turning to walk away. This routine continues through the rest of your work week, making you more anxious as each day passes.

Come Saturday, you desperately need to go shopping – having stress-eaten all of your snacks throughout the week. Your anxiety not only affected your appetite, but also your sleep. Over the last couple of days, you’ve come home from work to find your front door unlocked – it apparently having slipped your tired brain in the morning. You double-check that you’ve locked the door before going shopping.

At the farmer’s market, you happily chat with the vendors – feeling much less perturbed than you have all week. That is, until something – or rather, someone – catches your eye across the way. It’s that man again. He’s here, at the farmer’s market, watching you.

Your voice catches mid-sentence as your breath is stolen from you. You stand stock-still, unable to remove your wide eyes from him. The vendor notices your change in demeanor and waves a hand in front of your face, trying to regain your attention. The distraction pulls your gaze from the man in order to pay for your produce. When you look back across the way, he’s gone – leaving no trace that he was ever there to begin with.

But you know better – know your eyes weren’t deceiving you. That was the same man that’s been at your office all week. The same man that’s been watching you all week. And now, he’s seemingly followed you here.

Panic starts to rise as you walk to your car, contemplating just cutting your shopping trip short and going home. But you can’t do that; you need to buy groceries and this is the only day you can do so. You decide to continue with your normal shopping routine and just be quick about it – no dawdling.

You play your music at a low volume as you drive to your next destination. Doing a speed-run through the supermarket, you practically rip the items off of the shelves in your haste. Every now and then, you peek around the corners of the aisles – expecting to see him standing at the end. You never do, and that makes you release a sharp exhale each time your fears are rejected.

Your drive to your third shopping location is less tense, humming slightly to your playlist. At the store, you still chance a look down the aisles just in case, but you never find him waiting there. Unfortunately, you also don’t find any of your normal goodies – the madeleines, sorbet, and pretzels all gone.

You wander the aisles for what feels like hours, hoping to find the items stocked elsewhere. Upon realizing they are indeed sold out, you become crestfallen. It’s already too late into the day to hit up another store and your frozen goods are likely starting to defrost in your car. Thus, you decide to find some replacement snacks to tide you over until next week – just until you can return and hopefully repurchase your normal treats.

The drive home is worry-free as you sing loudly to your music. You continue humming the tune as you collect your groceries from your car, making your way to the front door. When you go to open it, you find it’s already unlocked. Strange. You swear you locked up this morning.

You step through the threshold, closing the door behind you. As you walk towards your kitchen, you smell something in the air – almost an earthy-toothpaste kind of scent. Strange. The smell differs greatly from the normal lavender air freshener you use. Perhaps, not only did you leave the door unlocked, but maybe you also left a window open and the scent is wafting in that way.

You unload your groceries, putting everything on their appropriate shelves and cabinets. When you open the freezer to dispense your frozen goods, you halt your movements. Sitting on the shelf is a pint of your favorite strawberry sorbet. Strange. You swear you finished off the carton last night. Regardless, you celebrate the revelation – knowing what you’re going to snack on tonight. You finish putting away the groceries before going to spend the rest of your day reading.

Later that night when you’re getting ready for dessert, you reach into the freezer for the sorbet. As you grab it, you notice the weight of it – seemingly a full pint rather than an almost finished one. You look the container over, seeing for the first time a small note taped to it. You definitely didn’t leave that there; you’d have no reason to leave yourself notes on a pint of sorbet. You read the few words of the unfamiliar, looped handwriting: “I hope you taste just as sweet”.

You gasp, dropping the carton onto the counter. It all makes sense now: the unlocked door, the lingering scent, the note on the carton – someone's been in your home, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know who the intruder is.

You grab your phone, frantically dialing the police and explaining the situation. You stay on the line as they send a couple of officers to your home. They search every inch of the house, finding no signs of forced entry and no other evidence someone has been there. With nothing else to offer you, they suggest investing in new locks before leaving you to stew in your anxiety. You sleep uneasily that night.

The next morning, you’re hesitant to leave your house – not yet having told your friends about your discovery last night. However, you figure telling them in-person over brunch is as good an opportunity as ever. Reluctantly, you make your way out the door – triple-checking that you’ve locked it. You drive to the restaurant with your music playing low, frequently checking your rearview mirror.

Upon greeting your friends, they can immediately tell something is off with you – your usual cheery demeanor completely absent. Attempting to keep your composure so as not to work yourself up more, you carefully explain everything that’s led up to today. Remarkably, you don’t break down in tears as you detail your experiences from the past week.

However, your friends fly off the handle at your confession – concern flooding their every feature. Layla offers to help you book an appointment with a home security company – her boyfriend having previously worked there. Katherine advises you on ways to get your stalker off of your trail: changing up your routine, taking complex routes to your destinations, and always staying vigilant. You thank them for their help and take their words to heart.

Brunch passes in uncomfortable silence – at least, from your end. Your friends try to pick up your mood – try dragging you out of your swirling thoughts – but to no avail. You pick at your food, your appetite not having fully returned since last night. Most of the conversation goes in one ear and out the other, your attention too focused on the bodies passing by the restaurant’s windows. As you take your leave after the meal, your friends each give you a firm hug – telling you to call them if you need anything or if anything else happens.

You decide to forego stopping by the bookstore, just wanting to quickly return home. You take different streets back, heeding Katherine’s advice. The drive is silent as you focus your attention on the road – your eyes frequently flicking to your rearview mirrors. You didn’t see him at the restaurant and you don’t notice any cars obviously following you, but that doesn’t dissipate your fears.

The drive takes longer than usual, but, eventually, you arrive back home. Your hand shakes as you reach for the door, hoping – praying – it’s just as you left it. The door is locked as you try the handle. You let out a sharp breath, relief flooding your veins.

You check through your house anyway, finding nothing out of the ordinary in any of the rooms. You sigh in contentment, reassured that no one else has been here. Walking towards the back of the house, you notice a smell get stronger and stronger as you approach your bedroom. The scent is familiar – calling back memories from yesterday – and your fear renews tenfold.

You push on the door, letting it smack against the wall as it swings open. In the center of your bed lies a small, white box. You walk towards it, feeling your heart beating frantically. On the box rests a note – the same looped script from yesterday defiling the otherwise pristine paper. “I can’t wait to have a taste,” the writing reads.

Lifting the lid, you peer into the box’s contents. A package of your favorite madeleines – the ones that were sold out the other day – await you. Tears spring to your eyes as you dash out of the house, once again phoning the police.

~~~~~

The following week passes by in a frenzy. After the police could again find nothing of value – apart from the two notes now in your possession – you take Layla up on her offer, scheduling a new security system to be installed as soon as possible.

It takes a few days for the workman to show up. In the days that pass, you're greeted with another treat-filled box each night you return home from work – the attached notes bearing more and more cryptic and chilling sentiments.

Once the high-tech system is installed, you're given the walk-through on how to operate it. It's a bit complex – all the buttons, codes, and alarms differing greatly from your former lock-and-key mechanism – but it'll give you some peace of mind. It takes some getting used to over the first couple of days, but it starts becoming second nature to remember to set the alarm. The notes stop appearing after the system is installed.

All the while, you follow Katherine's advice to a T. You change up your routine. With some coaxing, your boss agrees to change your hours – having you in the office much more frequently. You stop going on morning runs, choosing instead to work out in the confines of your house. When you do find time to go shopping, you try new stores. The aisles are unfamiliar and the items aren't as delicious as what you're used to, but you'll settle for just about anything at this point.

You start taking long, complex routes anytime you drive somewhere: work, the store, home. A couple of times, you find yourself driving your old routes – absentmindedly listening to your playlist; you chastise yourself on those occasions, having to double around and take twice as long to reach your destination. To make it easier on yourself, you start opting to drive in complete silence – focusing all of your attention on your surroundings.

You try abiding to Katherine's final piece of advice most strictly: staying vigilant. You haven't seen him since that day at the farmer's market, but you still have that gut feeling that he isn't far away – that he'll catch you if you slip up.

You check through your house every time you come home, making sure no more "gifts" have been delivered in your absence. You watch your rearview mirrors almost as much as you watch the road, making sure your car isn't being tailed. Every thorough search and paranoid glance always comes up empty, but you can’t stop yourself from doing them.

It gets a bit tedious at times – going to such extreme lengths over this whole matter. But it's better than having to constantly look over your shoulder, you remind yourself. Though, that's exactly what you're doing. Only, you don't realize it.

~~~~~

The past week has been killer on you. With your new work hours, you’ve been at the office non-stop – sacrificing many hours of sleep. The sleep-deprivation coupled with your ever-present anxiety have taken a toll on you – your body exhausted and brain fried.

On several occasions, you’ve caught yourself slipping back into your old routines: driving the direct rather than extended route to work, forgetting to set the alarm until hours after you’ve already been home, visiting your old stores rather than new ones. You’ve been trying to keep a watchful eye out for yourself, but it’s getting more and more difficult to keep your eyes open at all as the days drag along.

Thus, when you get home tonight, all you want to do is slump into bed and sleep the night away. You unlock your front door – immediately kicking off your shoes and throwing your purse on the entryway table. You kick the door closed before slinking away to your bedroom – barely being able to ready yourself for bed. Once you lie down, sleep promptly overtakes you.

You rest deeply for a few minutes, finally finding some peace. That is, until a sudden noise snaps you awake: the sound of the front door clicking shut. Your eyes fly open, sleep now the farthest thing from your mind. Shit! Someone’s here. Someone’s in your home.

Upon instinct, you know exactly who it is. It’s that man. The man who’s been following you for weeks. The man who’s been terrorizing you for weeks. The man who’s been haunting your dreams for weeks.

You reach over to your nightstand, searching for your phone. It’s not there. You failed to take it out of your purse when you got home. Just like you failed to set the house alarm when you got home. Just like you failed to see the black sedan following you home.

With no other choice, your best option is to hide and hope he goes away – hope he doesn’t find you. You carefully step out of bed – the floorboard making an unholy creak as you gingerly place your foot down. He’ll definitely have heard that, and he’ll be on you any second. In your panic, you fly under the bed – deciding it’s the least obvious hiding spot.

Even in the darkened room, you can see your door swing open and his shoes approach the bed. Your heart beat is thunderous – pumping so much blood through your ears that it drowns out the noise of his footsteps. You put a hand over your mouth as tears begin to fall, trying to choke back the sounds of your whimpers. The tears spill over your cheeks as you watch him move carefully.

He walks to your closet, rifling through it before obviously coming up empty. Next, he moves to your bathroom – spending only a few moments before, again, coming up empty. He walks back towards the bedroom door before stopping at the foot of the bed, directly in front of you. You hold your breath, not willing to make a single sound. The room is still for a moment.

Then, with lightning speed, he crouches down – snatching you out from underneath the bed. His hand quickly replaces yours, covering your mouth and nose. He falls on top of you – his body weighing you down on the bed, trapping you beneath him. You try to scratch at him, but he easily captures your wrists – pinning them between your bodies.

He adjusts his hold on your face, maneuvering his hand to let you breathe through your nose. You intake a sharp breath – the scent of his cologne stings your nostrils, suffocating you. He leans forward to sniff along your neck – causing an icy chill to run up your spine.

He lifts himself slightly, allowing you to see his unobstructed face up close. His irises almost glow in the dim lighting – his eyes peering down at you, penetrating you. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before speaking.

“Just a taste,” he purrs against you, calling back to those notes he left you weeks ago. “That's all I want. Just a taste."

Though his words are innocent enough, the hungry glint in his eyes betrays him. That look tells you what he’s really thinking: he’s finally caught you and this is only the beginning.

__________

A/N: Sorry if you wanted to see exactly what happens next, but I’ll just leave that up to your imaginations. Regardless, I’d love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @charmed-asylum @mcudarklibrary @delicioustar (strikethrough won’t let me tag)

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #oneshot

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seo--jun · 4 years ago

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heyo heyo it’s kat back again with a new muse !! this is sam and he’s posh as hell !! read more below the cut !! my discord is kat#1056 if anyone would like to plot there !!

━♡ guess the 26 YEAR OLD NOVEMBER baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because WEON “SAM” SEOJUN is just as BRILLIANT as the month of NOVEMBER. wait, why do they remind me of KIM NAMJOON? beyond that, they seemed OUTGOING & INTROSPECTIVE upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of DISTANT & SPACY though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX #4 / APARTMENT #6 / FLOOR #4 ; HE seem(s) to have a lot going on with HIS job as A FOOD CRITIC. ( kat, 20+, she/her, est. )

basic info !

name: seojun “sam” weon age: 26 pronouns: he / him birthdate / sign: november 26th 1994, sagittarius (idk whats with me and sags i just love to write them) occupation: food critic, photographer (mostly related to food for articles, ect, but as a hobby also does nature photography and candids of friends and family)

background !

sam was born in seoul, south korea to a family of prestige and occasional notoriety. he’s the only child to a successful lawyer (mom) and a renowned art critic (dad). growing up his parents jobs had the family moving around pretty often and sam ended up living in the states for a lot of his childhood (thus the english nickname). he always had a knack for cooking and, admittedly, some of the finer things in life. he liked nice clothes and furniture, he liked clean floors and chandeliers, he loved good food and fancy restaurants, but never to the point where it was gaudy, always more appreciative than show-offy.

he isn’t judgmental. at least, he doesn’t think so. he’s been privileged his whole life and he knows it, doesn’t take it for granted or think less of people in different situations then himself. he knows his career was largely influenced and amplified by his parents success, his ability to make money and do what he loves only an option because of the support he was given. he's thankful for what he has, but he also experienced a lot of distance from his parents due to their careers and never had many lasting relationships due to not have siblings and moving around as much as he had.

he was always an exemplary student, though he struggles to take full credit for it given the tutors and teachers he had being some of the “best.” failure, he supposed, was never really an option. he had freedom, though. cross country trips by himself became an option at the age of sixteen and experimentation in careers, life, and style became something he loved, something he relied on. he’s well-traveled, friendly, and also inexplicably.. lonely. he fills his life with work and travel and new people to avoid being solitary, nothing more shaking than sitting in an empty apartment with no one to talk to, the only savior the sound of the television playing to an vacant couch in the other room to avoid the empty side of his bed but... anyways.

so how exactly had he ended up in dallyeog? well, it’s sort of a funny story, really. he had a lease somewhere else (perhaps somewhere of similar intrigue… perhaps somewhere much, much nicer) ready for when he came home from a stint in california but when he arrived it seemed there were some problems with the paperwork and... long story short he had nowhere to live. after some quick last-minute searching he found that dallyeog was one of the only complexes that had an open availability for more or less an instant move in. and now he has a year and a half lease. so. that’s that.

wanted connections !

connection: not a life coach but i’ll coach you in life TAKEN

aesthetic: empty packets of ramen / smudged eyeliner / colorful clothes patterns / raucous laughter / painted fingernails / big sweatshirts / long hugs / walks around the city / late night phone calls / special ringtones / crying on a train / fighting over the bill / holding someone’s face in your hands

in depth: they weren’t meant to be best friends, not quite like this. they met in the apartment building and your muse was at some sort of rock bottom, maybe sam ran into them crying in the stairwell late at night, maybe they locked themselves out of their apartment -- whatever it was, he offered to help and since then, well... he just kept helping. it’s not pity and it’s not a savior complex, he knows your muse could survive without him, but he likes spending time with them and they want to be helped. whether it’s life advice, fashion advice, cooking help, or any other variant -- sam has their back. similarly, sometimes its good to be reminded to let go a little, embrace mess and chaos and just accept life as it is; not everything can be helped, not everything is avoidable. a classic case of opposites attract.

connection: pretty handsome awkward

aesthetic: flushed cheeks / drunken laughter / holding hands / bar stools / leaning towards someone when you talk / messy hair / heavy jackets / over-the-shoulder and around-the-waist hugs / talking til late at night / strategic ‘good morning’ texts

in depth: they met at a bar and hit it off. it was a classic meet cute, he was out by himself stressing over some emails he has to deal with and your muse happened to be seated nearby. your muse broke the ice and then hours later he looked at his watch, surprised. it was late. really late, like the-bar-was-about-to-close-on-a-friday late. he offered to walk your muse home and very quickly realized that was also HIS way home and, well, you’re neighbors!! surprise!! now it seems you have an ongoing flirtationship that exists over beers and in a jacket slung over your muses shoulders that has yet to go anywhere serious.

connection: that ‘struggling artist’ type of love

aesthetic: paint splatters on a white wall / torn-up sneakers / sticking your head out of a sunroof / throwing stones at closed windows / banging on a bedroom door at two am / sticky notes on a bathroom mirror / ‘this reminded me of you’ / glitter stuck in the carpet / abandoned canvas’ / a wall of photographs

in depth: your muse is unlike anyone he’s ever met before, and that’s saying something. this works best with an eccentric muse, an artist, a free spirit. your muse is, well, HIS muse. he has a roll of candids he’s taken of them on his camera while they hung out, sprawled over a couch or wandering the streets of the city. they don’t worry about the future, they live in the present and it’s foreign to him, he’s drawn to it like a moth to a flame. sam doesn’t consider himself an artist, not creative even in cooking or photography, but they make him feel -- unique.

connection: the ghost haunting my halls

aesthetic: late nights / darkened hallways / slow, quiet footsteps / lit cigarettes / stargazing / losing track of time / wearily catching each other’s eye / sweatpants and slippers / disheveled hair from tossing and turning / sleeplessness / old cartoon reruns

in depth: you run into each other in the hallways more often than not. it’s a constant struggle to fall and stay asleep, singularly he’s sometimes found wandering the halls or going for walks until the early morning. somehow your muse always seems to be awake. sometimes they go for walks together, or they hang out in one another’s apartments, watching old reruns and eating whatever’s left in the fridge. it’s strange, really, how you never seem to hang out outside of these nights, but it happened organically, and it’s nice to feel a little less lonely when the sun breaks the horizon.

( note: all of these are open to any gender identity !! these are the main ones i have for now but i will be making a full plots page and adding more soon !! in the meantime feel free to message me to brainstorm if you have any other ideas you wanna explore !! )

#dallyeog:intro #intro #hello everyone !!#i hope u like him !!! dm me for ploottts

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emoselenas · 4 years ago

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2020

damn my last tumblr post is the last day of woodland creatures, did i not do a 2019 wrap up?? i feel like i did. oh well lmao

so, arguably the most tumultuous year in modern history (at least, american history- all pandemic and political events considered) is about to come to a close. it was very not fun experiencing a pandemic as millions lost their loved ones to covid. i was part of the 20% of people that became unemployed as a result of the economy taking a huge dump. i would not want to experience this same year again if it meant that every life lost could be saved. with the year i was given, i made the best out of it that i could.

like every other person on this earth (except for where the virus was already spreading), this year started out normal as hell for me. i was hating my job but chugging through each week, with the occasional show to worry about and then planning our band’s 2020 release plans. despite my salaried job, i was barely making enough to put anything away in savings, forthcoming disney trip aside. i really felt like i was putting in all this work at a full time job just to barely stay afloat and it grated at my soul. i don’t dream of labor, and i only take jobs like this because nothing i am passionate about truly makes money and the marketing jobs i would actually care about are never available to me/never come to fruition after submitting myself for consideration.

disney was a huge highlight of my year despite being deathly sick. i keep wondering if i had covid (i never figured it out), but it sure as hell felt like it. i feel like if i did have it i would have passed it on to jeremiah and his family but i didn’t. i could still kinda taste, but not smell because i had the worst sinus infection i ever had in my entire fucking life. like i know i get them a lot but really, holy shit. i really had it bad. it started when we were in the studio the 2nd to last weekend of february on the last studio day. i had to go back to the studio several months later because i was that unsatisfied with how the vocals came out. i didn’t want to fuck up these releases and have my performance be mid so i was willing to pay to have to re-do everything. i assumed if this was like any other sinus infection, it would go away in a week.

lmao.

i had that infection for THREE WHOLE FUCKING WEEKS. i played a show with that monster sinus infection, and went to disney with it. i went two weeks without meds because i really was convinced it would go away on its own. before we left for disney i finally got antibiotics at urgent care and couldn’t drink most of the trip which sucked. but that finally did the job, and the infection waned when we returned from disney. despite being physically weak, in pain (there was one friday my body pains were so horrible that jeremiah contemplated taking me to the hospital), and leaking snot all over my sleeves the entire trip (LIKE IT WAS THAT UNCONTROLLABLE. I HAD NEVER GONE THROUGH THAT MANY PACKS OF TISSUES IN MY LIFE. I WAS LEAKING SO MUCH I HAD TO LOCATE THE BABY CHANGING STATION IN MAGIC KINGDOM. IT WAS LIKE A SECRET STERILIZED TROVE OF HAND SANITIZER, WIPES, TISSUES AND BABY OIL.) i had an amazing time at disney. and it was my first time going with a significant other so it was incredibly fun. it was also a wonderful opportunity to spend time with his family. the only very not fun part was missing our nephew in the main street parade because some bozos fucked up the info they gave my sister-in-law and we were out walking around when his high school band had actually marched earlier than we thought.

it’s funny, because that weekend after we returned was the last weekend of “freedom” everyone had before lockdown. we were weary of covid while in florida but still living it up on vacation. at that time, there had only been 3 cases in orlando. 3!!!! i had plans to go to a party once home but i cancelled only because i still wasn’t completely out of the woods and 100% well again. i felt so bad cancelling because it was for my friend’s party and she never really did parties usually :( and i thought it wouldn’t be a good idea considering i may or may not have had covid.

then... the following week came.

monday we got a weird email from our CEO saying there was going to be salary cuts and that it was essential for the company to survive a downturn. i pouted but my parents consoled me saying it was better than nothing; maybe look for a new job. and then- i got the nothing! a day or two later, i was let go. and i could tell my manager was absolutely not souped to be giving me this call at all. she literally prefaced it like, “this sucks, but-” and gave me the news. and i was utterly devastated, sobbing controllably, because i was just scraping by on this income to begin with. and i had JUST, finally, received health insurance through this job. i was asked to continue working through friday the 20th, which i would be paid for, and then i would have to return my laptop and any other work materials (like printouts and promo stuff) i had possession of.

that day and the days following i had coworkers calling me or emailing me telling me they were so sorry. i was the first to be let go, and they were kind enough to extend words of encouragement to me. clients i worked closely with, a couple of them around my age, assured me that i could use them as a reference. many of my colleagues were my higher-ups, but were very down-to-earth people. one call that stuck out to me was from my colleague sarah.

sarah was candid with me and said, “y’know how i was unemployed for 6 months?” i knew this well though we had only worked together for a year and a half; it was an important part of her path to where she was in her career now and why she chose it. she continued, “those were the best 6 months of my life.”

and i would come to find out that yes, me too being unemployed was the best fucking time of my entire goddamn adult life.

when i posted i was officially unemployed i had an outpouring of support from my friends, and received enough animal crossing commissions to pay one month’s rent. the first day i finally felt peace was when i was sitting on my porch on an abnormally warm march day playing animal crossing following my last day at my company. it was like the universe was giving me a hug and telling me everything was going to be all right.

what would come was a pretty chaotic couple of months. jeremiah, my roommate and i would stay up until 3 am either watching anime or playing video games, subsequently sleeping until 11 am or noon. pair having fun, drinking (mostly me lmao) and lounging about with the scary realization that thousands of people every day were dying of covid and it could be my high-risk parents. i would cry at night and be so fucking scared. my sibling would tell me my family was being reckless, running unnecessary errands, and whenever my dad showed up to drop off food or necessities i would cry because i couldn’t hug him. i’m even getting choked up thinking about it now. and it was a fear that returned during the second spike around the holidays because it is the loss i fear the most.

amidst this really horrible time, i would play games almost every other night online with my friends and it was so much fucking fun because all of us were either unemployed, furloughed or working from home. we’d laugh so goddamn hard our voices were hoarse. one of my favorite memories is playing quiplash with the creatureposting gang and then my big friends from college. and a really fun night in particular was SIIE release night, i popped a bottle of champagne and got absoluely zonked lmao. every few days i would have something to look forward to, some sort of virtual plans with my friends. this would continue until july when my friends were slowly starting to go back to work.

most of my early quarantine days were as follows: wake up, watch anime, work on commissions for most of the day, order extremely good food for delivery, play video games, and then bed. at one point commissions became so overwhelming i started to get slower at churning them out. though this became a daunting project, WOW it really forced me to become a better artist. and this year i got to spend so much more time drawing, which was fantastic.

one thing i DID NOT spend a lot of time on at all? ugh. MUSIC. FUCKING MUSIC. i barely touched my guitar, stopped writing lyrics after july, and barely completed the instrumentals for about 3 songs. the only thing i consistently practiced was singing (because i would literally curl up and die if i didn’t). do you have any idea how much i blabbed to my therapist in 2019 about how much i would get done if i didn’t work full time and could just focus on my creative endeavors? and then life HANDED that shit to me on a silver platter the following year. i really did nothing insane musically with my time. and now i am really kicking myself for it. if i think about it, it was mostly because i was so exhausted from doing AC commissions, and partly because i was really intimidated about the prospect of struggling through songwriting. now i really wish that i had tried.

one thing i started doing this year was streaming. i originally planned to just do it for fun, because i am horrible at video games and i really didn’t expect much out of it. i thought it would be cool if my friends could watch me play animal crossing. and then i unfortunately learned that this 3rd expensive pasttime is actually really, really, really fun. i started to spend half my week streaming and it led me to either getting closer to some online friends i only talked to a lil previously and making new friends. viewers would ask me if i continue to stream after the pandemic was over, and i enthusiastically assured them i would. and i meant it. even with the difficulties of returning to work and the band playing shows again considered, i really wanted to. i don’t get invited to things anymore anyway, so fuck it if that’s what i stand to lose lmao.

when the curve flattened in jersey i decided to become lenient again and start meeting with my bandmates. we spent the year trying to finish some new material and chip away at what work we have to do for the full length (yes, a full length). we had plans to tour this year and it sucks that fell through. we also had plans to do so much more content during the pandemic and we faltered under the stress of... well, existing in a pandemic. we did finally get to drop a new single though, and the difference in hype now vs when we dropped our last work was incredible. i am so thankful we were able to build an audience with nothing new for two years. i still often beat myself up because god every day i look around me, at our peers, and wonder where the fuck we’ve gone wrong to have such a slow build. and even daily just trying to stand out and prove that we have cut our teeth/deserve a chance is so demoralizing. i feel like it’s even worse than before. i literally have to talk to myself out loud, both alone and during interviews lmao, to remind myself that we truly have accomplished so much. and to take in and appreciate the little positive things. because this could all be over in a second. and this won’t be forever. the older we get the more we are risking for this, both time and resources, and it won’t do to let myself get bogged down over my inner competitive voice. but god it’s hard. like even with new music we still didn’t even TOUCH any of the goal numbers we set for ourselves in may. though we did put out less music than we had planned, and we really hope to change that in 2021 forreal.

there was a single we were supposed to put out this year that’s on hold due to some pending assets but goddamn. if we really don’t break some sort of ceiling with this one i don’t know what will. i have the strongest gut feeling about the next single and in my opinion, it’s the best one we’ve had to date. when we play it at shows, the air in the room sometimes shifts. i’m eager to see what the response is and i’m so ready to push it with everything i have.

fuck this is getting so much longer than i planned i have to try to wrap this up lmao.

with our government stimmy money we turned around and got the dog of our dreams. we figured, i’d be home enough to watch him, and it was finally goddamn time. it’s why we moved into a house and not into another apartment. i was so scared meeting the puppy parents, and totally on edge the entire day. we went out to meet the breeder to test my allergies and see how i would react. samoyeds are not 100% perfectly hypoallergenic, but they were often lauded for being so. honestly? i still didn’t feel confident after two hours with the dogs because the pollen out there was bad (one of my WORST allergies) and i had mysterious hives on my arms i couldn’t figure out where they came from. for months jeremiah and my parents had to calm my nerves and remind me i lived with 3 cats before i moved out (i’m more allergic to cats) and that i would be fine. i had to do a lot of work on myself to get out of my own way about being excited about finally owning the dog of my dreams.

this little fucking boy. i couldn’t believe he was real. neither in the pictures i often looked at about 20 times a day on the breeder’s facebook page nor when we went to meet him. and he was truly, truly perfect. our little shithead. when we went to go pick him out, he sat apart from his puppy pile of brothers, sniffing around the room and trying to rip off his ribbon collar. we locked eyes and he fuCKING APPROACHED ME. i could not fathom any other puppy in the room being brawly. this was the one. we could already tell he was a mischevious smartass, because once he untied his ribbon he proceeded to rip off the ribbons of all the other puppies. but he was the cutest, flopping over on his back when you were near to get belly rubs.

ever since we have picked him up he has simultaneously been the biggest joy in our lives and the most source of stress lmao. that first week, and the next couple, werE FUCKING ROUGH. i had a horrible anxiety attack when i couldn’t calm him for bedtime the first saturday he was home and i was loudly sobbing to jeremiah that i couldn’t handle this shit lmao. he was so scared i was having regrets but i am just a fucking anxious wreck and not used to having a DOG!! this is my first dog!!! but while i can remember what life was like before him i cannot imagine going back. the first time he got sick and we took him to the emergency vet i cried so hard. when he is wagging his tail happy to see me and he looks like a fuckin seal because his ears are folded back it is the best feeling. i’m so excited for when he gets older and we’re vaccinated for covid so that we can take him on so many adventures. he is truly the best.

there is so much more i want to say but this is long as shit. this is even painful for me to read lmao. it’s always been for me, a guy with dogshit memory, to remember everything, but so, so much happened. so i’m gonna wrap up the real descriptive stuff with this.

being unemployed allowed me to just experience life. to wake up each day, enjoy the sun in my backyard, have time to try new recipes, go for long walks, GET A DOG, get better at art, get better at singing, spend more time with friends (virtually), bond even harder with my amazing, beautiful boyfriend, create amazing work with my bandmates, improve at video games, connect with people all over the world, and so much more. all my life i let money dictate my every move. i am insanely privileged to have experienced this but when i had to just live within my means off unemployment i did just fine. i once believed i was perpetually indebted to my employer when i was discarded like it was nothing. i can get a job anywhere and be fine. it strengthened my class consciousness and while i have control over my own destiny it is our country that has so royally screwed us of living the lives we should be living. our lives do not revolve around labor. so until we win the fight and get what we deserve, i will be returning to work next month (full time... in commercial real estate.... again), but i will do whatever it takes to replicate the everlasting feeling of joy i felt this year for the rest of my godforsaken life. if that means struggling for 2021 to build up my twitch channel and the band, working 9 hour days and then streaming/writing music for another 4, so be it. i felt from a young age i was not destined to live a normal life and that feeling has stayed with me no matter how much i have tried to play the game of life as i have been told. i finally have the confidence to pave the life i want.

so, if you are here at this very spot because you read everything, thank you. if you are here because you scrolled to see how long this was, here’s the TLDR of my best parts of 2020:

- tapping out cover

- the 2 shows we played lmao, maybe 3 tops

- disneyworld

- ACNH outside on the porch on release day in warm weather

- making banana bread

- learning how to BRINE meats

- watching anime until 3 am, namely the time we watched pokemon journeys until 3 am

-watching so. much. anime.

-watching livestream concerts with my friends (the chon one was a real good time)

-playing jackbox with my creatureposting friends, the volcano saga (if u know u know)

-playing jackbox with my big friends

-the first time we ever had panchos and juanchos

-finally having sushi again after painful cravings and being grumpy

-the first time we had chinese food again after the lockdown began

-hitting the punching bag for the first time in forever (my dad bought me one)

-the first time we had ramen in forever

-surprising joe with cake at his doorstep for his birthday (we thought he would be the only one with a pandemic birthday lmao)

-playing monopoly and wheel of fortune on the switch, surprisingly having fun

-jeremiah’s birthday

-getting PAID for my ART

-writing + recording ONE (1) acoustic demo

-finally finishing the singles, fixing the vocals

-shooting band promos

-unus annus

-meeting samoyeds

-meeting BRAWLY

-streaming except for the times 13 year olds cyberbullied me

-my birthday when my mom got me a terrifying singing birthday candle contraption and my sibling curbstomped the shit out of it (i was literally crying laughing like that kind of noiseless laugh cause you’re laughing that hard)

- getting the stamp of approval from andrew wells and anthony green

-my friends having their first baby!!!

-dying from thanksgiving charceuterie board

-that week i binged ghibli movies on an hbo max trial and did nothing else

-filling the front porch with plants and most of them SURVIVING the fall, possibly winter but we’ll see in 2021 lmao

- (in general) nailing riffs i fucking sing over and over when practicing but prob won’t get down good enough to sing in front of others lmao

-solo inflatable pool hangs

-thursdays with sarah in the fall playing with the puppy

-the release of the first WSA single in two and a half years

-virtual movie night with sarah watching happiest season

-the music video shoots

-brawly experiencing CHRISTMAS

-receiving really thoughtful gifts from jerry and my parents

-deciding i would work towards being a full time streamer to supplement being a musician

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springday-aus · 4 years ago

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BTS’s Namjoon: Plus Two || part one

—

Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus

Moodboard Link: Created By Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing: Y/N and BTS’s Kim Namjoon (RM)

Other Characters: BTS [Hoseok, Taehyung, Yoongi (barista!yoongi), Seokjin - others are mentioned briefly], Hyerin (EXID), Suho (EXO OT12), Moonbyul (Mamamoo), Eric Nam, Tiffany (SNSD), Irene (Red Velvet), and Jackson (GOT7) - along with their respective group members, who are involved as planners, partakers, and guests

Genre: romance, comedy, officer worker!Namjoon, wedding date!au, friends to lovers!au

Type: series [two parts]

part one || part two

Word Count: approx. 21.6k

Plot Summary: getting older is never easy, especially with all the weddings Namjoon has been attending. Fortunately for him, a run in with an old friend of his, i.e. you, makes all these weddings a bit more bearable.

⤷ Alternatively: you and Namjoon keep running into each other, ultimately becoming unofficial wedding dates. Once it’s official, a couple of things start to change... such as the old flame that Namjoon thought he put out.

→ Inspired by: the movie called Plus One—hence the creation of Plus Two!

Warnings: lots of drinking involved and cursing

A/N: this accidentally became a slow burn fic, considering that I stretched out Namjoon’s pining to 21k words.

October 25th, 2019

Friday, 10AM

Lee Corporations

—

The clicks of computer keyboards fill the dead silence of the office floor. Everyone’s buried in their own paperwork and files, concerned about finishing their workload before the work day is over. Namjoon sits in his cubicle, reorganizing his spreadsheets and double checking the numbers. It’s taking longer than he originally wanted, but then again, computer games are designed for distractions. He checks his watch. It’s only been two hours and he’s already bored. Sure, he’s got enough work, but does he really want to do it?

No, not really.

He rubs his eyes, which he inwardly hopes might wake him up from this nightmare. Curse him for being practical and choosing to be a business major. Had he chosen a different path, he might have turned out happier—at least, he has a stable paycheck. By the end of the day, that’s all that really matters in this lifetime.

A chime from his phone interrupts his thoughts on his extinctial crisis. He grabs his phone from his desk counter, as he stands up from his seat. Might as well grab another cup of coffee. He heads to the break room and immediately navigates himself into the corner, where the coffee maker rests. After plugging it in, he unlocks his phone and clicks on the latest notification—an email sent to his personal inbox.

You’re invited to celebrate the union of Seo Hyerin and Yoon Jae Jung!

Date: November 16th

Time: 11:15am for the ceremony, 8pm for the reception

Location: Crossroads Cathedral and Sweet Dreams Event Hall

Please RSVP at XXX-XXX-XXXX or respond to the email! We hope to see you there!

Huh, he hadn’t heard from Hyerin for a while—last thing he remembered was that she was enjoying her job as a translator and she was in a wonderful relationship, which is now blossoming into marriage.

Good for her.

He doesn’t mean for it to sound as sarcastic as it does. It is good for her. As one of her close friends (close enough to get her wedding invitation at least), he’s glad she’s able to find someone who wants to share her life with.

But it’s also a reminder that Namjoon hasn’t managed to do the same. He shuts his eyes and lets out a long sigh. It’s going to be really sad that he’s going to be there without a date of some sort, while others are most likely going to be there with dates. It’ll be nice to catch up with some of his old friends, but it’s also going to be a pain to have all those pity looks and the ‘don’t worry, you’ll find someone soon’ speeches.

By the time he realizes he’s lost himself within his thoughts once again, the coffee is reheated and his phone screen has turned black. He moves his mug and slowly pours the dark liquid in. Namjoon’s ringtone breaks the silence. The image of Hoseok’s dog, Micky, flashes on his screen with the words, Dancing King.

“What’s up, man?” Namjoon asks, as he pours a packet of sugar into his cup.

“Hey! How’s my favorite businessman?”

“Hoseok, I’m the only businessman you know.”

“No! Wonsik is also a businessman.”

“He’s a CEO of his own music company—while there is business associated, he’s still deemed as a musician in my book.”

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can practically see Hoseok’s lips pulling back in disappointment.

“Same difference,” Hoseok says through the line. “Anyways, did you see the invitation yet?”

“Yeah, I saw it,” Namjoon says. “I just can’t believe Hyerin is already getting married.”

“I know. It’s almost like we’re adults or something.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes from Hoseok’s sarcastic comment, even though he can’t see it. “Are you bringing anyone?”

“It’s too soon to see, but I might try to find a date—it’s just another wedding.” There’s a pause, with some muffled shuffling. “If not though, would you do the honor of being my date?”

“You know, I might just take you up on that offer.”

“Bet,” Hoseok says. “Well, the others are starting to come back from break. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Only from 9 to 5.” There’s another laugh from him through the phone. “Alright, bye!”

“Bye.”

He sets his phone down, staring mindlessly into his coffee as he waits for the sugar to dissolve.

Well, on the bright side, he has a date to the wedding now. That one task marked off the list.

November 16th, 2019

Saturday, 9PM

Hyerin’s Reception

Sweet Dreams Event Hall

—

“I’ve known Hyerin for such a long time,” Hani says. “And I have seen so many sides of her. Even today, she continues to reveal new sides of her that are surprising to everyone. She’s smart; she’s classy; she’s fun-loving and she’s cute. Sure, everyone here might know her as the crazy one in this group. But that craziness is part of her charm—which I’m sure Jae Jung has experienced at least once or twice by now.”

The crowd laughs, as Hani tips her glass towards the couple. She gives another dazzling smile to them and continues. “Nevertheless, that craziness is what’s going to make life more entertaining for you. Some may say marriage doesn’t last, but I know you two will make it work. As one of Hyerin’s closest friends, I wish you two nothing more than a lifetime of happiness from one another. Congratulations, Hyerin and Jae Jung.”

There’s a light applause as Hani, the maid of honor, finishes her speech, which is followed by the taps of the guests’ champagne glasses. Hoseok and Namjoon’s glasses make a clink against the other, before they respectively clink their glasses with the other guests at their table.

“Cheers.”

After taking a sip, Namjoon turns his attention back to his plate, which is cleared of food.

“Hey,” he says with a nudge to Hoseok. “When did they say they were gonna cut the cake?”

“I think they’re gonna cut it after a couple more courses.”

“I’m so full.” Namjoon lightly pats his stomach. “I knew there was gonna be a lot of food, but I didn’t know it was going to be this much.”

Hoseok lets out a laugh. “Hyerin’s got a bottomless pit for a stomach—you should have known she was going to have a lot of food.”

Namjoon laughs with him. “Oh my God. How could I forget the buffet incident?”

Their conversation is interrupted by some feedback from the speakers. The crowd’s attention is turned back to the main table, where Hyerin stands with the microphone in hand and her new husband, Jae Jung, is trying to fix the veil that was caught on the back of her dress.

“Hello everyone! Thank you so much for coming and joining us for this evening. Also, if we could give another hand to Hani for helping me arrange the whole thing—she really is the best. This night has been the most incredible.” There’s some more applause and, at the end of the main table, Hani stands once more with a smile and bows to the guest tables.

Hyerin continues to talk once it dies down. “Um, we’re still coming around to the tables to properly greet and thank everyone for their support and gifts. The cake will be cut soon, but we still have two more courses left. Also, the bar remains open, if any adults need some more alcohol.” There’s a light laugh—Hoseok and Namjoon exchange looks of agreement to hit the bar after the meal.

“And after the cake is cut, everyone is welcome to the dance floor.” She hands the mic to Jae Jung.

“Hyerin and I will have our first dance and, after that, the party can officially start.” A guy in the back shouts a ‘woo’ and there’s scattered laughter. “Anyways, thank you again for coming in support of Hyerin and I. We hope you have a good time tonight.”

There’s more applause and the couple resume to make their rounds to each table. The informal conversations begin once again as the guests wait for the next course to be served. Namjoon turns his attention back to Hoseok, who’s already engaged in conversation with a couple of people at the table.

“So, how do you know the couple?” Minhyuk asks.

“Ah, Hyerin and I went to the same dance academy,” Hoseok says. “We’ve been friends for, like, 10 years now. We all still talk so…” He gives a light shrug with an eased smile.

Minhyuk looks over at Namjoon unexpectedly, who freezes for a bit from the eye contact, before answering. “Oh, I met Hyerin through Hoseok actually,” he says. “We had a couple of classes together and were in a couple of study groups together in college and…” He pauses. “Here we are. How do you know her?”

“I was friends with her back in high school,” Minhyuk says. “A lot of people thought we were dating, so it’s a whole inside joke between us—especially since I got invited to her wedding.”

“That’s funny,” Namjoon says. “But, wow. You kept in contact after high school?”

“Yeah, thanks to the creation of cell phones and, as you already know.” He pauses. “Hyerin is very sociable, so it’d be hard to not keep contact.”

“Speaking of which,” Hoseok says. “There’s a lot of people here. Their guest list is huge.”

“I have a feeling there’s more of Hyerin’s friends than Jae Jung,” Namjoon says with a small laugh.

“I’d place my bet on that,” Minhyuk says. His attention is diverted towards the servers that were coming out to serve the fifth course, making more conversation with the others at the table.

“That’s a safe bet,” Hoseok says to Namjoon. “I’ve seen nearly everyone from dance camp.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Hoseok takes another look around. “I saw Hyemi as we were coming in and Sanghyuk is just a couple of tables away.” He pokes his head up, sitting up straighter to get a more clear look around. “I should catch up with him in a bit.”

“Maybe you two can meet on the dance floor,” Namjoon says with a laugh. “That’d be an interesting scene.”

“Well, there is an open bar.”

Namjoon can only give Hoseok a warning look, to which he gets a mischievous one in return. He can only sigh in response, but he can’t help to chuckle. He’s known Hoseok for so long that he knows he can’t stop one of his shenanigans.

He resumes his attention back to his plate, where a small scoop of brightly colored sorbet sits in a little bowl.

“It’s cute,” Hoseok says. “We get ice cream before the cake.” He does a little dance with his shoulders, beaming with his pearly whites.

“First of all,” Namjoon says. “I think you’ve had enough sugar. I’m afraid of what’ll happen once the alcohol starts to take effect as well. Secondly, it’s sorbet and it’s supposed to refresh your palate.”

“Ah, Namjoon,” Hyerin says. “Smart as always.” The entire table centers their focus on the newlyweds, who’ve approached them from behind. Light cheers erupt from the other guests and Namjoon gives her a big, toothy grin.

“I was just wondering when you two were gonna get to our table,” Il Woo says from across the table.

Hyerin laughs. “I’m trying my best to get to all the tables, but, in hindsight, we do have too many friends.”

“To be honest,” Jae Jung says. “We had to cut down the list, like, twice.”

“Finding a venue to fit everyone was easier than cutting down the list. Who knew?” Hyerin makes a face, which Hoseok responds to with one of his. The two start to go around the table, individually catching up with others and filling the guest’s glasses as they chat—eventually getting to Hoseok and Namjoon.

“Are you two finally dating?” Hyerin teases.

“As much as I like Hoseok,” Namjoon says. “Seokjin is more of my type.” He looks over at Hoseok, who pouts.

Hoseok turns away with bitterness. “That’s fine, I like Yoongi better anyways.”

“It’s nice to see that you two haven’t changed,” Hyerin says. “Thank you for coming—the both of you.”

“It’s no problem,” Hoseok says. “We’re your friends.”

“We’re here to support you.” Namjoon says.

“You two are just as sweet as I remember,” she says with a bright smile. She taps her glass with theirs. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Hoseok and Namjoon take their respective sips, while Hyerin drowns hers down.

“Damn,” Hoseok says. “Your tolerance hasn’t changed since college.”

“We’ll see with how tonight goes,” Hyerin says. “I think the others’ have lowered, so watch out when they all head to the bar.”

“You mean like now?” Namjoon asks.

“What?”

Namjoon points a finger towards the wall where glass shelves hold many colorful bottles of wine, liquor, and juices to mix with the alcohol. A bartender mixes the drinks to the best of her abilities to fill the four glasses set on the counter. Hyerin’s bridesmaids lean on the countertop, shouting “shots” repeatedly.

“Oh dear God,” Hyerin says. She shuffles with her dress, grabbing as much of it as she can, and attempts to run over towards them. “Y’all!! Couldn’t you have waited until the elders left!?! Wait for me!”

Jae Jung hurriedly follows after her. “Honey! Be careful with the dress, you could trip!”

After they ran off, Hoseok and Namjoon could no longer hold in their laughter.

“That’s one way to exit a conversation,” Namjoon says with another sip of his champagne. “They really haven’t changed since college.” He lets out another laugh. “Who else do you think is here?”

“Honestly, knowing Hyerin,” Hoseok says. “I have no clue.”

They get back to their plates and converse with the others at the table. Hyerin has made many friends after graduating, Namjoon notes. Then again, she’s always been very friendly with others, which is how Namjoon was able to easily get along with her.

As the conversations go, the last course, along with the cake, is served and the dance floor is officially open. Once 10pm hit, Hyerin and Jae Jung led their first dance. Everyone slowly started to join in and then the songs were transitioning to a faster pace, in which the elderly started to take their leave. Good timing too because the alcohol started to set in and no one had any resistance left.

Hoseok has officially abandoned Namjoon to steal the leftover party favors on empty tables (at this point, he’s openly stealing rather than sneaking them into his pockets). Namjoon remains at the, now, empty table and empty plate—observing the other guests who have made a home for themselves on the dance floor.

Hyojin’s alcohol tolerance is officially met as she twerks on the dance floor. Hyerin and Hoseok’s dance friends, Hyemi and Sanghyuk, have officially engaged in a full-fledged dance battle. Meanwhile, one of the bridesmaids, Solji, has another, Junghwa, on one arm to pull her away from any physical object she could flirt with (to which Namjoon has been a victim) and, in the other arm, she holds a svedka bottle that’s already half empty. In another corner, from Namjoon’s table, Minhyuk has helped himself to the rest of the uncut cake with a serving spoon.

Amidst the chaos, Namjoon stays at the table, taking in the atmosphere with the disco lights and fast-paced radio hip-hop songs. He nods along with the music, mouthing along with the lyrics. As much as he would love to join the others, he knows he would most likely break something of his, or someone else’s.

He checks his watch and glances around, wondering as to how far Hoseok had gotten with the party favors. Just as he was about to start his search, Rihanna’s Umbrella starts to play and that’s when he hears Hoseok before he can see him.

“BITCH! THIS IS MY JAM!”

Namjoon has to close his eyes from embarrassment of being his date, but then something saves him.

“BITCH, ME TOO. MOVE!”

“HANNA AND (Y/N) IN THE BUILDING, EH EH EH.”

Well, nevermind.

The crowd parts like the red sea, allowing Hoseok and two familiar looking figures to meet in the middle—each person nodding along to the melody and waving their arms in the air. As if it was a karaoke meet, everyone sings aloud, along to the music.

“You have my heart. And we’ll never be worlds apart. Maybe in magazines… but you’ll still be my star…”

Namjoon smiles at the sight. Hoseok and Hanna are doing their own thing, ignoring the little bags that fall out from Hoseok’s pockets that were, technically, stolen from the other tables. You blend into the crowd, swaying to the melody with Hani on one arm.

“Because~ When the sun shines, we shine together. Told you I’ll be here forever. Said I’ll always be your friend. Took an oath, Imma stick it out to the end. Now that it's raining more than ever, know that we’ll have each other. You can stand under my umbrella… You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh…”

Namjoon makes eye contact with you. Your eyes widen, surprised from seeing him. With your free arm, you wave him over—to which he can only shake his head, passing up the opportunity of embarrassing himself in front of his old college friends.

You pull yourself away from the crowd and head towards his direction, eventually taking the empty seat next to him. Without a word, you reach over and grab a champagne glass from the other side, drowning it down in one shot.

“Ahh,” you breathe out. You point to his glass and the remaining alcohol that glistens from the disco lights. Without another word, Namjoon hands it over to you. He can only watch, as you drown down that glass as well.

“Well,” he says. “It’s nice to see you too, (Y/N).”

“Sorry,” you say. “That glass looked too appealing.”

He lets out another light laugh with a shake of his head. “Seriously though, it’s nice to see you.”

You hum. “How long has it been? Couple of years?”

“Yeah, it’s been a bit of time,” Namjoon says. “Glad to see you haven’t changed too much.”

“Glad to see you haven’t either.” You pause, looking back at his, now empty, glass. “Still have a low tolerance?”

“You already know the answer to that, so why bother asking?”

“Just ‘cause it’s fun to hear you admit you’re a little baby when it comes to drinking.”

“Ugh, this is just because you were able to build a tolerance from all that bar hopping.”

“We both did that bar hop.” You scan him with a glint in your eyes. “Something clearly went something wrong.”

You both laugh. With another nudge towards him, you speak up again. “How’ve you been? Still working at the office?”

“Yeah, I’m officially a manager.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“You still making music?”

“Every now and then,” he says. “Whenever I get the time, I do.”

You let out a little laugh, grabbing another glass of champagne. “I remember all those tracks you made. Shame that your mixtape never released.”

“Oh my God.” Namjoon has to close his eyes. “Please never bring that up again.”

“Why not? They were great.” You take a sip of the glass. “I still have your Soundcloud page bookmarked.”

Namjoon rubs his face with his face becoming more and more flushed, but he can’t hide his growing smile. “Oh my God, (Y/N).”

You give him another teasing one in return. “Remember when you used to try to promote yourself on the quad—”

“Oh my God, (Y/N)—”

You let out another laugh from his red face. Namjoon shuffles his feet and his eyes dart around, trying to find a drink for his, suddenly, dry throat. As if you read his mind, you tip your glass towards him—offering him the rest of your drink. He takes it and takes a small sip, clearing his throat afterwards.

“Anyways,” Namjoon says. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You pause. “You act like you didn’t like my Instagram post two nights ago. You also DM me memes, dude.”

“Yeah, but that’s different from actually talking to you and catching up.” Namjoon rests a hand on his chest, in mock-hurt. “I’ve been sending those since college and you still don’t appreciate them?”

You roll your eyes but it’s with no malice. “For your information, more is not less. Less is less.”

“Is this your way of telling me to lessen the meme content in our messaging?”

“Yes.”

“Damn, that’s harsh.”

You let out another laugh as he pouts in his seat. “Sorry, Joonie.”

Your conversation is interrupted, as Hyemi shouts your name from across the room. “(Y/N)! I’M PUTTING ON BRITTNEY, BITCH.”

“AYY!” You immediately get up from your seat, dancing your way over back to the dance floor. As Hyemi pulls you away, you look back towards Namjoon and give him a little finger wave. “I’ll see you sometime, okay?”

He smiles back with a small nod, just quick enough for you to see, before you get pulled into the crowd once again.

December 3nd, 2019

Tuesday, 6PM

Shoreside Condos

—

Another chime comes from Namjoon’s email. He continuously types, re-organizing and triple checking the calculations of his spreadsheets.

He sits on the couch with multiple sheets of paper which lay on the unoccupied space of the table and couch, in some type of clean mess. In the background, his flat screen plays a film from some movie channel that he stopped paying attention to a while ago. His only company, Rapmon, lays on the carpet near Namjoon’s feet—practically blending himself into the white, soft texture. The keyboard clicks continue for a couple more minutes, before he decides to check his email.

Hello Mr. Kim,

How are you this evening? I am sending this email to let you know there are some adjustments that need to be made to the reports. Below, I have some attachments for you to check.

Please let me know once they are completed. Have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.

Sincerely,

Bang Sihyuk

Head Manager of the Big Hit Management Team

Lee Corporations

Namjoon lets out a sigh. Guess it’s more work for him. Jokes on Bang though—he didn’t give him a deadline. Loopholes are a wonderful thing.

He shuffles with the papers on the table, trying to find the remote. Once it’s spotted, he lowers the volume. He looks at the overall mess, ultimately deciding it’s better to clean it up, somewhat. As he pushes some of them back into their manila folders, he hears a whine.

With a scratch behind Rapmon’s ears, Namjoon gives him a little kiss. “You hungry, baby?” Namjoon gives a small smile, as Rapmon pants. “I’ll get some food for my good boy.”

He lifts himself from the sofa, already abandoning his clean-up attempt. Rapmon bounces alongside with him and they head into the kitchen area. Opening one of the lower cabinets, he easily pulls out the dog food and puts it into the doggy bowl.

Leaning on the countertop, he looks down adoringly at his pupper. “I should probably get something to eat too.” He pats his stomach. “It’s been empty.”

He pushes himself off and shuffles over to the refrigerator. However, a white card, decorated with lace, catches his attention. He sighs, plucking the card off the refrigerator magnet.

Join us for the union of Minyoung and Junmyeon!

January 11th, 2020 @ 5PM

Location: Sowon Temple

—

Black tie dress.

Reception to follow!

See you there!

Namjoon lets out another sigh, but from the migraine that formed. He’s gonna have to text Taehyung—maybe they can go wedding gift shopping together. Considering how much Taehyung spends, Namjoon is sure to balance out that…. Taehyung-ness.

He grabs out his phone, sliding it open to his messages.

Namjoon: yo, did you get a present for Junmyeon yet?

The reply is nearly instant and comes all at once.

Tata: oh shit

Tata: i forgot

Tata: shall we go shopping soon ?

Namjoon: you read my mind

Tata: it’s like we’re soulmates

Tata: :)

Namjoon: …. okay

Tata: i love you :*

Namjoon: and you have now made it weird

Namjoon: but ily too

Tata: i’m screenshotting this for the groupchat

Namjoon: and goodbye

He shakes his head, silently laughing at Taehyung’s responses. He’ll make those plans later, once he’s got some more time. It’ll be fun to spend some more time with Tae. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’d hung out. While their time at the ice rink was fun, they spent more time struggling than skating together (well, at least Taehyung was the one struggling).

But, right now, he’s got more work dumped on him. And he’s hungry.

Rapmon looks up at him as Namjoon looks down at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Namjoon opens the fridge without breaking eye contact. “This is for me. You got your bowl, buddy.”

January 11th, 2020

Saturday, 7PM

Junmyeon’s Reception

Enchanted Evenings Restaurant

—

“Although I am the oldest of our group,” Minseok says. “Junmyeon has taken care of me ever since I became friends with him. I’m sure that everyone in this room, who knows Junmyeon, knows that he has this thing where he cares more for others rather than himself. He’s the mother figure that everyone wants in their lives and we were lucky enough to have him as ours. But now, he’ll finally have someone to care for him this time around, for the rest of his life.”

He turns to the main table and raises his glass. “I would like to dedicate this toast to Mi Young, on behalf of the exo boys. Thank you for putting up with all of us.” The crowd chuckles. “ And congratulations to the both of you, for finding someone who will faithfully look after you no matter what. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Everyone respectfully clicks their glasses together, taking a sip and going back to their meals and their own little conversations. Namjoon looks up from his glass, seeing Taehyung across the table—chatting away with the other guests. Tae fits well with the others, despite looking out of place in his patterned suit (“It’s Gucci. I have taste,” Taehyung said, when he was picking up Namjoon).

Namjoon glances to the right… where you are seated. You happily drown your glass down, letting out an exhale from the refresher.

You turn to him. “Do you think I’m allowed to drink more?” you ask.

“(Y/N),” Namjoon says. “I think it’s better for everyone if you didn’t drink more.”

You pout.

Namjoon tries not to stare.

“You, my friend,” you say with a point of your finger, poking his chest. “Need to loosen up.” You shake your empty glass at him. “What better way than with alcohol?”

“Have you become an alcoholic? Is that what this is?”

“Haha, oh so funny as always, Joonie.”

“You know I try,” he says with a grin.

He sets down the glass, turning his attention back to his plate—on it lies a pile of chopped lobster topped with little scraps of gold, which is paired with fresh caviar and foie gras sauce on the side. Everything looks so good that it practically glistens in the chandelier light coming from above the table.

While there are many guests, the venue is actually very spacious. Each table has a good amount of space that the chairs don’t bump into one another when pushed out. And yet, there’s still a large amount of space dedicated to a multicolored dance floor (which has Baekhyun and Jongin written all over it, Namjoon notes).

Even without the tables, anyone could tell it’s decorated tastefully. Above each table, there’s various lights that provide a nice atmosphere for the guests. The ceiling itself is painted plain white, but if anyone looks close enough there’s little specks of gold that shine against the light. In contrast to the ceiling, the walls were covered with wallpaper. The wallpaper is also white with gold accents, but there are also pearls that popped out of the walls—quite literally popped out. The kids who came with their parents have been feeling up the wall for the past hour or two.

Namjoon knew the wedding would be boujee, since it is Junmyeon’s, but he’d almost forgotten about how loaded Junmyeon’s family actually is.

“Who knew my most expensive meal would come from a wedding?” Go Eun says, from your other side. You let out a laugh. “It’s the Kim family, what more did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe something corny.”

“Honey, we’re past corny when we walked through those balloon arches.”

Go Eun blinks, slowly nodding along as she comes to the realization. “Ah, I guess I never got over the whole senior-junior view I had of him in school.”

“He’s got that vibe; he seems like a chill mentor.”

“But realistically speaking,” Namjoon pitches in. “We know that’s far from the truth.”

“Considering how he dances to any Sistar song like (Y/N) to Hit Me Baby One More Time,” Go Eun pauses. “I think all of the guests here know that.”

“Damn,” you say. “You really had to attack me like that, huh?”

She gives you an innocent smile that feels not-so-innocent. “Hyerin’s reception videos circulated. What else was I supposed to do with their information?”

You give her a teasing one in return, before returning to your plate once more.

There’s a moment of silence at the table as everyone is starting to dive into their meals, except for the silverware that taps the plates and bowls. As the plates start to get cleared, the chatter picks up once more—especially as the newlywed couple makes their way around with Junmyeon holding the train of Minyoung’s dress. Taehyung stirs up the commotion as he sees them making their way over.

“Here comes the lucky couple!”

From the sudden, informal announcement, everyone cheers with their glasses—both empty and full—for the newlyweds.

Junmyeon tucks a strand of Minyoung’s hair back with one hand and, with the other, he holds a glass filled with champagne that’s already lost its bubbles. “Thank you for coming, everyone. We really appreciate your presence here.”

“It’s no problem,” Namjoon says. “We’re glad to be here.”

“We hope you like our presents!” Taehyung practically yells. “If you don’t, then deal with it because we lost the receipts.” He gives them one of his boxy smiles.

Everyone gives a light-hearted laugh at Junmyeon’s face.

“Is everyone okay?” Minyoung asks. She stands behind you and Namjoon, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Is the food good?”

“Minyoung, this one plate is about the equivalent of my first year tuition,” Yeri says, looking at her. “The food is more than just good.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, giving Minyoung’s hand a pat. “Everything is great.”

She lets out an exhale. “I was just a bit concerned because Junmyeon decided the meals without me.”

“Honey,” Junmyeon says. “The meals turned out great. (Y/N) agrees.” He turns to the rest of the table. “You guys are going to love the dessert.”

“What’s for dessert?” Yunho asks, from one side of the table.

“It’s a Golden Opulence Sundae,” Junmyeon says with a beam.

“It’s got edible diamonds and a sugar forged orchid,” Namjoon whispers to you. “It was super trendy a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t mean the price went down.”

Your eyes widen. “Goddamn,” you mouth to him.

“Yeah, he went a bit overboard,” Namjoon says.

Junmyeon pouts at Namjoon’s words and Minyoung pinches his cheek. Minho makes a gagging noise and Yunho has to hit him to get him to stop.

“Anyways,” Minyoung says, pouring another glass for you and Namjoon. “Let’s enjoy the evening with a drink—cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Around the table, everyone respectively tap their glasses against one another—Namjoon with you and Minho, you with Namjoon and Go Eun.

“We would love to stay, but we need to get to the other guests,” Junmyeon says.

“But,” Minyoung says. “Stay as long as you would like. Desert is coming and the cake will be cut soon after. So, please enjoy yourselves—at the table, on the dance floor, the pool out back—”

“There’s a pool?” Heechul asks from the other side of the table.

“Yeah, the doors will officially be open after thirty minutes or so,” Minyoung says. “Anyways, mingle and have fun. We’ll be around.”

“Enjoy yourselves, okay?” Junmyeon says with another smile. With his hand on her lower back, he guides her towards the other table behind yours.

“They’re so cute,” you say with a pout. “I’m glad to see Minyoung with someone good for her.”

“Same,” Namjoon says. “I haven’t seen Junmyeon this happy since…” He tries to think.

“Since Sehun paid that one time for dinner?”

Namjoon’s eyes light up. “Yeah!” He takes another sip of his glass. “I almost forgot about that.”

“I couldn’t,” you say. “You don’t ever forget it if Sehun pulls out his wallet for you.”

“Yeah, he only pulls out his wallet for Vivi,” Namjoon notes. “Big mood though.”

You laugh.

Everyone gets back to their plates, which now has the dessert and the reception goes on. The conversation flows, between all the guests—at their assigned tables, along with the other tables. Siwon visited Namjoon’s table on many occasions, just because of Yunho and Minho’s seats. Although, Namjoon will admit that their conversations are very impressive (many topics related around politics and social injustices in modern society, which was very impressive to be honest).

The time continues to pass, but it’s hard to tell with all the conversation going on. While Namjoon is more introverted, he has been very engaged in many conversations with others—especially with you. It had only been about a year or two since you two had actually talked, caught up and all that good stuff.

You two originally met in college, in one of your classes together—after all, the study group that suffers together, stays together. While Namjoon majored in business, you had actually studied what you wanted. Your drive and extrovertedness balanced with Namjoon’s realism and introvertedness, which created, what you believe to be, an iconic duo on campus (at least with your friends).

While it is inevitable for people to lose touch after college, you were easily able to keep the connections. With the help of social media, you reached out and managed to keep contact with your close knit group of friends—including Namjoon and many others from college (and probably high school).

Unfortunately for Namjoon, this also means reminders of the uni days—both good and bad (as previously mentioned: the mixtape promos on the quad)...

“Expensive Girl was a fucking bop and you know it,” you say, scooping another spoonful of your ice cream. “What did you do with all of those CDs anyways?”

Namjoon groans, wiping his face as if it’ll get rid of the embarrassment from the olden days. “Honestly, they’re probably in a box somewhere and collecting dust.”

“Come on,” you say. “You have to admit that those songs were actually really impressive.” You smile at him. “You were really creative. What happened?”

He sighs, setting down his, now empty, wine glass. “Nothing happened, (Y/N).” He pauses. “Real life just got into the way and… next thing I knew, I stopped making songs.”

The look in your eyes softens. “Namjoon, you’re one of the most creative people I know,” you say. You lay a hand on his that rests on the table.

His eyes land on yours. You continue. “You should do what you enjoy, while balancing out the realistic picture.” Your other hand pokes his chest once more. “You, of all people, should know that. Remember what happened sophomore year?”

Ah, sophomore year. From what Namjoon remembers, you originally came into college undecided. It wasn’t until the beginning of sophomore year that you figured out what you wanted to do. (“Seeing you so driven about your music makes me more driven towards what I want to do,” you said to him. “Even if I suffer to the destination, my happiness afterwards is the most important to me and my future.”)

Namjoon sighs once more, but it’s more of frustration towards himself rather than exhaustion. He can only say one thing. “Being an adult is hard.”

You laugh at his statement—your hand unmoving from his, another thing Namjoon tries not to focus on, but he can’t because of the warmth of your hand. Yes, while the two of you are friends, if he said he never had non-platonic feelings for you would definitely be a lie.

The tap of the mic interrupts his thoughts and the conversations start to simmer down once more. In the front, Junmyeon and Minyoung stand side by side. Minyoung is in a different wedding dress but it’s been shortened and paired with some white flats. Junmyeon’s jacket has been removed and his tie is loosened.

“Hello?” Minyoung says. “Can everyone hear me?” Her smile grows, as she meets everyone’s eyes and nods. “While people have been able to enter the pool area, it’s officially been thirty minutes since dessert was served.”

“With that,” Junmyeon says. “The pool is officially open, along with the dance floor. We’re allowing song requests, along with karaoke mics. So, go wild.”

“YEAH!” Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Jongdae simultaneously shout.

Junmyeon immediately retracts his statement. “Not too wild!” Despite that warning, everyone knows it’s already too late.

Jongin, Taemin, and Ten are the first ones to enter the dance floor as the music starts. Everyone easily joins in to circle around them and chaos starts to ensue, making space for the elderly to start to leave. As the other guests start to migrate towards the colorful tiles on the dance floor, the younger ones are more on the antisocial side—Yeri joins the table with Mark, Renjun, and her other university friends that were invited as well (considering that most of them can’t legally drink). Meanwhile, Yunho, Minho and Siwon continue their political conversations in another corner as their glasses are consistently refilled by the servers.

At some point, Sehun simply puts on his sunglasses and holds a bright yellow floatie in one arm (“Sehun, we’re indoors,” Luhan says. “Your point?” he retorts). He walks past your table, saying something about how he needed the hot tub and a bottle of bubbly after this chaotic week—although, the nearly empty strawberry flavored vodka in his hand said a lot more about his lack of current sobriety.

Meanwhile, you were long gone to the dance floor, being pulled in by Yuri and Hyoyeon. Go Eun was right; something just flips when Hit Me Baby One More Time plays. Namjoon remains at the table, watching the others continuously mingle and dance, as he engages in conversation with Jaebum and Taehyung.

“You two came together?” Jaebum asks.

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “We went shopping together for Suho’s gift and he had no choice because he can’t drive,” Taehyung jabs a thumb towards Namjoon, who’s jaw drops.

The audacity.

“I suddenly miss Hoseok as my date,” Namjoon says.

“It’s nice you all kept in touch,” Jaebum says, ignoring Namjoon’s pettiness. “It’s hard to do that nowadays.”

“It really is,” Namjoon responds.

Jaebum and Taehyung nod alongside him in response. At this moment, Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae are walking past them with black buckets to which splashes could be heard with each movement.

“Hey guys!” Taehyung calls.

Baekhyun turns towards the table and the three make their way to Namjoon and them. “Hey, Tae! Long time no see,” he says. “Nice to see you two again, thanks for coming,” Baekhyun says to Namjoon and Jaebum. “Did anyone wanna come to the pool?”

Namjoon and Jaebum shake their heads. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Namjoon says.

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I forgot about it.”

“Okay, good,” Chanyeol says. “Because you won’t want to swim in it later.”

“What?” Jaebum asks.

“We’re dying it pink,” Jongdae says. Their eyebrows raise in curiosity, but no one dares to ask. “Although, I think Kyungsoo has been catching on.” Jongdae’s eyes dart around, trying to catch sight of the short, but frightening man.

“I’m sorry,” Jaebum says. “Not to be that guy, but, where’s your wife?”

“She passed on the wedding invitation, so she’s at home with our daughter,” Jongdae says. His head tilts to the side and his eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Just trying to understand why you left the house without your impulse control,” Jaebum responds with a smile.

Jongdae pouts, but it’s ignored.

“Wanna join?” Baekhyun asks. He has an innocent smile on, but his eyes are full of mischievousness.

“I'll pass,” Namjon says with a raised hand. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I don’t plan on messing with Kyungsoo.”

“I’ll go with,” Taehyung says. “It’ll be interesting to see how all of this’ll unfold.”

He waves the other two goodbye and points to Namjoon. “Text me if you want to leave early, but I’ll be at the pool, okay?”

Namjoon nods. “Please be careful.”

“Always!”

Jaebum waits until they’re an earshot away. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Namjoon can only shrug. “But can you stop them?”

“You got a point there.”

From the other side of the venue, there’s a crash, followed by a splash, coming from the pool area and a yell louder than the music (which could only be Kyungsoo).

“YOU BRATS!”

“Well,” Namjoon says. “They lasted longer than I thought.”

Jaebum checks his watch. “Two minutes?”

“Exactly.”

No one is really sure of what happened with the dye (except for those who were actually in the pool). But it’s hard to concentrate on that when, out of the pool area, Jinki and Kibum emerge from the door with pool noodles, attacking one another with them with unnatural, pink frosted tips. Kyuhyun and Johnny are attempting to separate them, but are seemingly failing to do so. Jinki’s pool noodle hits Johnny, knocking him into a vase—luckily, he manages to catch it before it falls.

… That is until Ten knocks into him as he shakes his ass along to Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie.

“Oof,” Jaebum says. “That’s… that’s rough, bro.”

“Hopefully, no one notices?”

“Hopefully.”

Another server comes around, silently filling their glasses once more.

“Thank you.”

They clink their glasses together in a silent toast and take a sip. Jaebum sighs, leaning back to his (well, your) seat. He takes another glance at the dance floor, spotting Heechul and Momo dancing their asses off. You would think that as dates they would be dancing together, but it looks more like they’re competing. Eventually, he spots you with some of the others.

“I’m surprised you didn’t come here with (Y/N),” he says.

Namjoon’s eyebrows raise. “What? What’d you mean?”

“I just mean..” He pauses. “It’s not bad that you two are friends,” he starts. “But, I was betting you two would be together… or, at least, in college.”

Namjoon doesn’t know what to say, but Jaebum continues. “You two just had a lot of chemistry, and still do!” He pauses. “Not a lot of people can say that.”

He nods. “Yeah, you’re right.” Namjoon looks out, easily spotting you from the crowd. It’s hard not to notice you as you twirl and dance around with some other guests—especially since someone managed to get you into a duck floatie.

“I think it’s (Y/N) though,” he continues to say. “(Y/N)’s just sociable and… that outgoingness just makes people surround (Y/N).”

“Is that what led you to (Y/N)?”

From Jaebum’s question, Namjoon’s lips automatically pursed. “I-I guess it is.”

Before Jaebum could say anything else, Give It To Me by Sistar starts to play and there’s a shout.

“YES!”

Before anyone could stop him, Junmyeon shimmies his way past the guests and towards the center—loudly singing along and doing all the dance moves.

Without either one of the boys noticing, Minyoung stands behind them with another champagne flute that’s half empty.

“Why hello, Mrs. Kim,” Jaebum says, looking rather cheeky.

“Hello boys.”

“So, Mrs. Kim,” Namjoon says. “What are you going to do about that?” he asks, pointing to the monstrosity that’s happening underneath the multi-colored disco ball.

“Uh, I don’t know,” she says. She swirls her glass and drowns it down. “Because I suddenly don’t know him anymore.”

They laugh.

“Well, that’s your husband now,” Namjoon says. “That’s all on you.” With those words, he tilts his glass towards his mouth, emptying it out once more for the night.

January 27th, 2020

Monday, 8AM

The Roasted Bean

—

The sound of chatter and the smell of coffee fill the air as Namjoon steps into the familiar coffee shop. While some of his fellow co-workers sit at separate tables, typing away on their laptops and drinking from their espresso cups, they all collectively ignore his presence—too preoccupied with their own matters. His body automatically places himself in line; his head poking up every once in a while to get a glance of Yoongi behind the counter.

Since it is early and they are located in the business district of the city, Namjoon expected for the line to be fairly long. As the time continues to pass, Namjoon quietly hums along to the songs that play on the morning radio, occasionally nodding along with the beat. He gets closer and closer, eventually giving a smile at the frowning barista.

“How are you doing that?” Yoongi asks. “It’s, like, dawn.”

“It’s eight in the morning,” Namjoon points out. “Not exactly dawn.”

He brushes the comment off. “You’re here earlier than usual. What happened to 9 to 5, Dolly Parton?”

“Nothing really,” he says with a shrug. “I just have some extra work to do and I should be able to leave an hour earlier.”

Yoongi makes a face with nothing short of disgust. “I still don’t understand how you’re able to just go to work like that.”

“You’re at work though.”

“Okay, but here, I get free coffee.”

“Isn’t that stealing?”

“Not if I mess up,” he says with a wink. “Speaking of messing up orders, how can I mess up yours?”

“The usual is fine,” Namjoon says. “Thanks, Yoongi.” He gets a grunt in response, so he takes that as his cue to head over to the side where the stirrers, creamers, and sugar lay. As he absentmindedly fiddles with the sugar packets, he goes back to humming along with the songs.

A tap on his shoulder interrupts his thoughts. A familiar grin greets him.

“I thought that was you,” you say.

His smile mirrors yours. “Hey, (Y/N). I almost didn’t recognize you in the daylight.”

“And I almost didn’t recognize you without alcohol in my system.”

Namjoon laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re asking me what I’m doing in a coffee shop?”

He gives you a look. “You know what I mean.”

You let out a laugh of your own. “Well, I just was visiting my friend, who works down the street, and I heard this place has the best coffee.”

His eyebrows raise. “Well, consider me pleasantly surprised.”

“Thanks?” You let out another laugh, smiling as you move yourself towards him, along with the sugars and creamers.

You both end up fiddling with the little packets, nodding along to the music together silently. Namjoon glances towards you, eventually nudging you to get your attention again. You hum in response.

“You still prefer the french vanilla creamer?”

“Yes, sir,” you say. You pluck it from his hands with a twinkling look in your eyes.

He glances over again, catching your eye. He lets out an awkward chuckle. “What?”

“Nothing,” you sing. “I just can’t believe you still remembered that.”

“Considering how we spent most of our college years over-caffeinated,” he says. “It’s safe to say I remember it.”

“Over-caffeinated?” You think for a moment. “Sounds about right.” You pause for a moment. “Oh!”

Namjoon slightly jumps from your random shout, which you do apologize for.

“Sorry.” You put a hand on his arm with a not-so-innocent smile. “I just remembered: are you going to Moonbyul’s wedding?”

He thinks. It had been a while since he received the invitation, but he definitely remembers getting it. “Yeah,” he says, after a moment. “Yeah, Jin and I are planning on going together.”

“Still can’t drive?” you ask with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

“You know what,” he says. “I can’t and there’s no problem with me not having a license.”

“I didn’t say there was.” You sniffle your laughter, as he pouts.

“Don’t license-shame me.”

“Not a thing, Joonie.”

Before he can reply, he’s interrupted by Yoongi, who calls for him.

“Namjoon!”

You give him another smile, before heading back to the line. “I have to get back in the line. I’ll see ya. Thanks for the creamer.”

Before he heads back to the main counter, he gives you a little nod.

He tries to ignore Yoongi’s cheeky grin. “Don’t say anything.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says. “I’ll ask instead. Who was that and why do you look all slap-happy?”

Ah, semantics. They were going to get him some day. Namjoon sighs. “That was (Y/N).”

“From college (Y/N)?”

“College (Y/N).”

“Ahhhh.” He smirks.

“Can you not?” Namjoon groans.

“Didn’t you tell me you used to have a crush on (Y/N)?”

“Can we not?”

“Not what?”

“Elaborate.”

“Oh, okay. So,” Yoongi starts. “From your exact words: (Y/N) is technically your first love, but you never confessed out of fear—of both ruining your friendship and also rejection, which is only natural. You thought you had a chance at graduation, where you knew the ties could or could not be severed. And yet…. you still didn’t confess and, now that you’ve run into your old flame…” His eyebrows raise in question. “How are things, ‘Joonie’?”

Namjoon’s eyes narrow at him in speculation. “You remembered those details rather vividly.”

Yoongi shrugs. “My therapist says I have good listening skills.”

“You really have an answer for everything,” Namjoon mutters.

“And yet, I’m the one who’s a high school dropout.”

For once, Namjoon blanks, before deciding to change the subject. “I thought you said my order is ready.”

“It is.” Yoongi sets the large cup onto the counter and gives a bright smile that is filled with sarcasm. “Bone apple tea.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s lingo,” he says. “Keep up with the times, man. You’re younger than me.”

Namjoon groans, but he can’t suppress his grin. “Have fun with the morning rush. I’ll see you later, man.”

“See ya.”

On his way out, he gives you another wave goodbye, to which you wave back.

As he officially leaves the cafe shop, he makes his way back to the office. While his mornings are rather shitty, Yoongi does tend to make them brighter—but seeing you, on top of that, might have given him more energy than the coffee does.

February 14th, 2020

Friday, 8:30PM

Moonbyul’s Reception

Celebration Ceremonies Wedding Hall

—

“I think we can all agree that Moonbyul has a stronger image,” Hyejin says. “Despite the more masculine stereotype she’s categorized in, Moonbyul is a very loving, sweet, and tender person.” She pauses. “Although, Heewon probably already knows this.”

She turns to the rest of the guests. “People say that love is supposed to make you feel nervous—your heart will pound and the anxiety will make you sweat. But, I think, love means sharing yourself with another person and you’re willing to work together to build that life with one another. Byul is someone you can share anything with—she makes everything feel more comfortable. Rather than making you nervous, she makes you feel at ease.”

She pauses. “Heewon, you’re very lucky to have someone so dedicated and hardworking by your side. And, while I may not have known you for very long, I know you’ll take great care of her. Congrats to the MoonWon couple and may your marriage be blessed for all eternity.”

Light applause is given throughout the room and Hyejin makes her way back to her seat at the main table, with the other bridesmaids and immediate family members of the two brides.

Light conversations begin once again at each of the guest tables—Moonbyul and Heewon remain seated at their table, having greeted the guests earlier as they entered the reception hall. In the background, classical music plays softly (although, live music will continue to play after the cake has been cut).

It’s been calm so far, but who knows what will happen once the bar’s open.

Namjoon takes another sip from his water glass, listening as Seokjin rambles on about the perfect ramen. Next to Jin, there’s Hani and Yura, who look half confused and half-amazed at how much he knew about food. On the other side of Namjoon, Junghwan and Myungsoo are eating away at their plates, practically cleaning them with their utensils as they scrape the food off (despite that, Namjoon swears he heard both of them ask if doggy bags were doing to be given out).

“There’s this cute little shop that Namjoon and I used to go to all the time. Remember, Namjoon? It had that seafood theme with the cute decorations?”

Namjoon’s head turns from his name being mentioned. “Yeah?” He blinks, recalling the cute fish tanks they had along the wall. Granted, the restaurant also sold sushi and he always felt guilty whenever he ordered the sashimi platters. “We should go back there sometime. They really do have the best ramen there. You should give it a shot, if you get the chance.”

“I’m always up for food,” Hani says. “I’ll take the girls with me someday since you’re giving it such high praise.”

“Well,” Namjoon says. “Maybe when Hyerin gets back from her honeymoon.”

“Very true.”

“It does sound like a cute date spot,” Yura adds. “Maybe I’ll get lucky enough to find someone to go with here.”

“Ooh,” Seokjin says. “I’ll share the address with the newlyweds too. They can go on cute dates together!” Seokjin turns back to Namjoon with a pout. “We don’t go on any dates anymore.”

“I’m busy at work, you know this.”

“You can still try to make time like you do with Jimin, at least.”

“I didn’t know you were dating,” Hani says, glancing between them. “Have you been together long?”

Namjoon nearly chokes on his food from the laugh that escapes his throat.

“We’re not dating,” Seokjin answers. “Namjoon’s got his eye on someone else.” Namjoon gives him a questionable look, which he ignores. “As a little birdie has told me.”

Damn Yoongi and his big mouth.

At that moment, there’s some microphone feedback coming from the front.

“Hello?” Yongsun and Jaehwan stand on the stage and Yongsun carefully taps the microphone in her hand. “Hello, everyone. Can you all hear me?”

“Yes!”

She smiles. “Well, I hope you’re all having a good time. We're just about to cut the cake, but, before that, Jaehwan and I have prepared a duet for the new couple for their first dance! I hope you all enjoy it and another congratulations to our brides.”

Jaehwan gives a thumbs up to the DJ in the corner, who gives another in return and starts to play a soft melody. The lights dim and, from Namjoon’s line of vision, he sees Moonbyul stand, bowing to her wife with a hand out to invite her to the dance floor. The two make their way to the middle and slowly start to sway together. Others start to join in too, listening to the soothing music provided by Yongsun and Jaehwan.

Namjoon nods along to the song, along with the many others who stayed at their tables. He takes a glance around, spotting some of the other guests and that’s when he sees you with Wheein and Eric. An automatic grin appears on his face as he sees you. The three of you are holding hands and slowly swaying to the beat with bright, proud smiles as you all look at the lovely couple.

He glances to the side, only to see Seokjin with a smug face. He feels the heat creeping back up his neck and towards his cheeks. Namjoon clears his throat, shifting in his seat from his friend’s eyes. “What?”

“I think you know what.”

“No, I don’t.” He clears his throat once more, feeling it dry up. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“Staring at you like what?”

“Like what?” Seokjin tilts his head in a mocking manner.

Namjoon sighs as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” he says in a singsong tone with a higher pitch. “I don’t~” He gives another look to Namjoon, speaking up again, back in his normal tone. “That’s what you sound like right now. You can’t lie to me and you know it.”

Namjoon lets out another sigh. He does know it; he really can’t lie, especially to one of his best friends. Because of this though, he’s going to be teased endlessly. “Do you remember (Y/N)?”

“Of course I do,” he says. “How could I ever forget the person you pined over for the entirety of college and afterwards?”

“Can you please not mention that part?”

“How could I not, though?” Seokjin tilts his head with a little smile that’s nothing short of mischievous. “You never confessed too, so that just added onto the secondhand frustration I had whenever you two were together.”

“Oh my God,” he mutters. “I’m just gonna stop talking altogether.”

“No, no, no,” Seokjin whines. “Please continue, I’ll be quiet.”

“Okay,” Namjoon says with a sigh. “I may… or may not, have ran into (Y/N) a couple of times at some other weddings and the coffee shop—”

“Which is where I got my info—”

He gives him a look, which shuts him up.

“Sorry,” he says. “Proceed.”

“(Y/N) is also here—”

Seokjin squeals, clapping his hands together—unable to contain his excitement. “Where? Where? Where?”

“(Y/N)’s with Eric and Wheein right now.”

“So? Go join them; talk to them, chat ‘em up.”

“Dude, you’re a great hype man,” Namjoon says. “But, not that great. (Y/N) seems busy, I shouldn’t interfere with that.”

“What you lack, my friend, is the confidence.” He pauses. “Do you need some of mine? Because I’d be happy to rub some onto you.”

“No, thank—” Even though Namjoon (halfway) rejected him, Seokjin is already rubbing his hands onto Namjoon’s face and, at that, with a bright smile as he smushes his best friend’s face.

After a couple of seconds, Seokjin pats Namjoon’s face, admiring his ‘work’ for a second. “There. You are set.” He gives Namjoon a little push. “Now go.”

“Now?”

“Of course now; they’re starting to cut the cake and (Y/N)’s gonna be alone.” He makes a shoo-ing motion with his hands. While Namjoon would rather let his anxiety take over, Seokjin’s got a point. Yongsun and Jaehwan have finished their duet; Moonbyul and Heewon have already moved on to cutting the cake, which have taken most of the guests’ attention—even Hani and Yura have moved themselves towards the front (granted, anything with food will draw them in). Better now than never.

Namjoon stands up, straightening out his shirt and tightening his tie. Seokjin gives a thumbs-up and a pat on the butt, before Namjoon sets off towards your table.

He takes long strides with, little to some, confidence. By the time he gets near your table, he stops behind you and lightly taps your shoulder.

You turn around, greeting him with a bright grin. “I knew you’d be around somewhere!”

“You were looking for me?” He tries not to look too shocked.

“Considering how you said you were going to be here… Yeah, I kind of was.” You turn back to Eric and Wheein. “Scootch over, y’all. Namjoon’s got a seat next to me.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Eric says. “We’ll be out of your hair in a second.”

“We’re gonna go get some cake and then we’re gonna go to the bouquet toss too,” Wheein says. “I also have to stop Hyerin from running into the kitchen to get more of the food. Don’t worry though, we’ll be back.”

They both get up, waving you both goodbye, and catch up with the rest of the crowd.

Meanwhile, you turn back to Namjoon. “So, what brought you over?” You lean your chin on your hand. “Was it my sparkling aura you felt the presence of?”

He laughs, responding with a teasing tone of his own. “What else could it have been otherwise?” He shifts in his seat. “Are you having fun?”

“You know me, Joonie,” you say with a laugh of your own. “I’ll find a way to have fun.” You eye him. “Are you having fun? Or are you planning on being anti-social again?”

“Again?” His eyebrows raise. “How dare you. I am an introvert, not anti-social. I came to you this time.”

“Uh-huh,” you say with crossed arms. “This time being the key phrase. Don’t you have other friends?”

“I have other friends.” He pouts. “I came here with Seokjin.”

You gasp. “I haven’t seen him in so long. I need to catch up with him; I miss him.” You poke your head around towards the dance floor, waving to Seokjin—who is currently doing his infamous traffic dance underneath the disco lights.

“Wow. Really feeling the love here, (Y/N).”

You turn back to him with a teasing smile and poke your finger into his dimple that he doesn’t even bother to try to swat away. “I’ve missed you too, Joonie.”

He quickly takes your hand off his face, hoping you didn’t feel the heat that rises to his face.

“We can make plans too,” you say with a nudge. “You know, instead of meeting at all these weddings.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “That’d be a lot easier.”

“Give me your phone.”

Namjoon reaches into his pocket, easily pulling out his phone and hands it over to you. He lets you tap around on it, until he realizes something. “Wait, what are you doing? I have your number.”

“I’m checking your schedule,” you say. “Makes things easier to plan.” You look up from the screen. “Especially since you’re an important businessman.”

He closes his eyes, in an attempt not to laugh at the ridiculous statement, but the grin on his face gives his emotions away.

You scroll through his calendar, before landing on a date. “I’m free for lunch on Wednesday.” You dangle the phone in front of him. “Think you can make some time for me?”

“(Y/N), I can always make time for you.” He really hopes that didn’t sound as desperate as it did.

However, he doesn’t think you care—as he spots the large grin on your face.

“Great,” you say. “It’s a date.”

Namjoon is unable to say anything, as he’s sabotaged by his own friend.

Seokjin dances his way over, pulling him onto the dance floor. “Need to borrow him, thanks! I’ll catch up with you later, (Y/N)!” He gives a light push to Namjoon, who’s trying to keep up with Seokjin’s dance moves. “How’d it go?”

“We set a date?” He tries to collect his thoughts, but he’s having issues with processing it. “I think?”

“See what happens when you have a little confidence?” He interrupts before Namjoon can answer. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh my God,” he mutters with disbelief. Sometimes, he really can’t believe the amount of confidence that this one man has.

“Now keep dancing, that’s how we’re gonna make our way closest to the bouquet. I’m catching that and no one can stop me.”

“Seokjin, why are you like this?”

“Oh hush, you love me.” Seokjin does a little body wave to skim past the other guests. “Y’all better watch out ‘cause the king is coming!”

February 19th, 2020

Wednesday, 12:30PM

Emerby Eateries

—

Namjoon’s fingers tap against the table, checking his watch for the time once again. He takes another sip of from his water glass, oddly feeling the anxiety hit. Does this count as a date? You did say it was a date, but… is this really a date?

Before he can linger too long on the thought, the seat in front of him is taken—by you. You’re slightly out of breath and, from the sight of your hair being slightly out of place, he can assume you did a small run on your way here before you were any more late than you already were.

“You’re late,” he says with a singsong tone. He picks up the menu, pretending to glance over the options. “You really haven’t changed since college.”

“Tsk, tsk, Joonie.” You brush off his statement with a wave of your hand. “You’re just too punctual. I was just a couple of minutes late.”

“More like ten minutes late.”

“Potato, potato.” You grab your menu, glancing through the appetizers. “Time’s an illusion anyways.”

He tries to stop his laughter, but one look at you and he breaks his fake anger.

“Did you order anything without me?” you ask.

“Of course not,” he says. “I figured you would want to share anyways, so you can decide on what you want.”

“And jack the bill up? I’m not that type of person.”

“Stand down,” he says. “Not what I meant.”

You chuckle. “I’m just pulling your leg. But, seriously, is there anything you’ve set your heart on ordering?”

“Well, the sandwiches look good.” His tongue clicks as he contemplates on his order. “I usually get those whenever I’m here, so I’ll probably get one. Do you know what you want?”

“Not really, I’ve been stuck on the appetizers. Did you want to split one?” You set your menu down, but your eyes don’t leave it. “They got fried pickles and I kind of want to try them. They also have those cheese balls that those mukbang youtubers eat.” You look up at him. “I kind of want to try those, not gonna lie.”

He smiles at the way your eyes sparkle at the thought. “I’m not stopping you, you know.”

“I know, but will you eat it with me? I’ll even pay for them.”

“Damn, (Y/N),” he says with a hand on his chest. “That’s how I know your love is real.”

You let out another laugh at his words and Namjoon couldn’t help but admire how carefree you look. While the two of you were a chaotic duo, the chaos was more drawn out from your side—not really chaos, it was more of your impulsiveness. But, it doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy those memories with you. In fact, he cherishes them the most from his college memories.

He still can’t believe he let you convince him of breaking into the campus gym’s pool. There was also that time when you two were drunk and you told him you wanted to try rock climbing—at the end of the night, you took an hour to climb up to his top bunk, declared success, and passed out once your head hit his pillow. You also broke into a classroom with him, to explain your theories on how birds work for the bourgeoisie (while the theories were insane, he had to admit you had a really convincing argument, which was probably due to all those essays you had to write).

“Do you know what you would like?”

The server’s question makes him snap out of his thoughts. He looks at you expectantly and you do him the solid by answering first.

“We’re gonna need some more time for the entrees, but could I get a couple of appetizers first?”

“Of course, whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay, so we’re going to start with the fried cheese balls with some fire sauce on the side, along with some fries.”

“Anything to drink?”

“I’m good with water.” You look to Namjoon.

“Uh, me too. Water’s fine.”

You both thank your server before she leaves and turn back your menus when she’s out of sight. There’s a moment of silence as you both deliberate on what to get. Namjoon’s already figured he would just get what he usually does a while ago; his menu is shut and left on the side as he waits for you to figure out what you want. He can only shake his head; you’re still just as indecisive as before.

Light pop music plays in the background and his fingers tap along with the beat. He moves his focus to the window where people continue to pass by on the busy city street. It’s lunchtime, so he expected the foot traffic to pick up a bit (and it did)—which was why he wanted to go a bit earlier. After another moment, he turns back to you, only to see you already looking at him.

“Having fun?” you ask with a quirk of your lip.

“Always.” He leans back in his chair. “You figured out what you want?”

“Yeah, it took a bit but I figured it out.”

When the server comes over again, the appetizers are served and you both order the entrees. You and Namjoon split the appetizers, nearly finishing them until the entrees were ready. Between all this time, you two actually catch up. It’s more than just the casual conversations you’ve had at those weddings—you’re both taking more time to listen to one another (in a more sober conversation) and actually talk about the things you didn’t manage to get to. Next thing you knew, it’s already been nearly an hour.

“Can you believe that we’re actually adults living in this capitalistic society?” You set your glass down. “We’re doing things like paying for bills.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s called responsibilities.” He lets out another laugh at the face you make from his word choice.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting. Don’t make me choke.” You take another sip of your water. “You know one way of knowing there’s the transition from childhood to adulthood is attending more funerals than weddings.”

“It seems more like the opposite for us, don’t you think?”

“Oh my God,” you groan. “You’re so right though. The amount of weddings I’ve been attending…” You shake your head, as if to convince yourself the number is lower than it actually is. “It’s kind of ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of my friends, but Jesus Christ, it’s like they all had a pact to get married around the same time and decided to leave me out.”

Namjoon sighs, playing with the leftover sauce on the side. “I’ve been to, like, five last year and I’m pretty sure it’s going to keep coming.”

“I really feel you, Joonie. I really do. I have a couple more I have to go to later.” You let out a sigh. “Curse me for being so friendly with others.”

“Haha, this is what you get for being popular.”

“I am not popular; I just happen to be a bit more extroverted than you.”

“More like a lot,” he says. “You definitely used to be a popular kid in high school.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. What’s wrong with a couple more friends?”

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a compliment: people enjoy your company and that’s how you managed to keep the ties you still have…” He pauses. “Like me.”

You give him another teasing smile. “Glad to know you enjoy my company.”

“It’d be awkward if I didn’t, considering I decided to have lunch with you.”

“Oh, yeah, by the way, how long are your lunch breaks?”

“Since I’ve moved up to management, I get more time, so about an hour or so—give or take.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Wow, look at you.”

He tries to suppress the blush from the look you give him.

“And despite all of this,” you continue to say. “You still don’t have your license?”

“Why are you bringing this up again?” He groans.

“It came up organically when I was with Seokjin,” you say. “You know... After he managed to steal the bouquet from Sunmi’s hands.”

“So,” he says with a glint in his eye. “You did talk to Seokjin that night?”

“Yeah, I did. Found out a little bit about what you’ve been doing after college.”

“So you talked about me?”

For the first time today, the blush starts to creep up your face. Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the sight; for once, he seems to have the upper hand. You clear your throat, before taking another sip of your near-empty glass.

“Don’t try to change the subject,” you say. “You still don’t have your license.”

“I-I just never had the time and the office is close to my apartment…” He tries to find the words (excuses, if he’s really being honest). “All of my friends have their licenses, so I don’t see the appeal of getting one.”

“So, what I’m hearing is, you have a uncommitted chauffeurs.”

“Oh my God, (Y/N),” he says with a laugh. “I don’t have that much money yet.”

“Yet. That’s the word to focus on.”

You both laugh again.

“Well, I would love to be your chauffeur anytime,” you say with another grin. “That is if you pay me for gas money.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Thank you for the offer though.”

“It’s no problem.” You let out a sigh, but it’s more relaxed than tired. “I’m serious though. If you need a ride, you can always ask.”

“I know, I know,” he says. He swirls his glass, trying to distract himself before he lets out his next words. “I know I can count on you anytime.”

The sparkle in your eyes returns and Namjoon has to stop his heart from skipping a beat at the sight.

March 10th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM

Shoreside Condos

—

Hey! Just a friendly reminder to RSVP to our wedding!

We’d love for all of you to join!

See you then!

- Anna Young and Eric Nam

Namjoon squints at the email and its neat, curly font. If he didn’t have Eric’s email saved, he definitely would have thought it was some type of subscription he signed up for and completely forgot about from the words alone.

He makes a mental note to dry-clean his fancy suit before the time comes. Although, realistically speaking, he has more than enough time to do so. He can probably (and most likely will) procrastinate on it.

As he tries to make the mental arrangements, in the background, the television plays on another generic movie channel that doesn’t play anything remotely worth paying attention to (he might make an exception for The Hunger Games though). Rapmon sits on the couch, next to Namjoon, with his front paws and head laying on Namjoon’s legs. One hand pets Rapmon softly and the other hand hovers over his laptop’s keypad as he quickly RSVP’s for the wedding and reception.

Namjoon easily fills it out with one hand, humming along as he taps the individual keys. However, he realizes that there is a problem after submitting the form: he has no ride. From what he can recall, the others probably aren’t going, considering these were two separate friend groups—so there’s no point in asking anyone for a possible ride. Then again, he could always get an uber or carpool with someone else.

He sucks in a breath, praying someone he knew would be on the guest list. Going back to his email, he looks over those who were sent the same email.

While he is acquainted with over half of the people, there isn’t anyone close enough he could ask. Jackson’s most definitely going with his long-time partner and there is no way Namjoon wants to be between the two of them. On the other hand, Amber is probably going with a group of people and he’s not really up for a conversation with a bunch of people he’s unfamiliar with. On top of all that, Eric is very sociable, so there are bound to be guests from all sorts of places (considering the unknown names from the email).

Although....there is another option.

He quickly picks up his phone, scrolling through his contact list. His finger stops as he hovers over your contact. He taps on it, but can’t find the courage to hit any button. The contact photo of you, smiling with a bundle of puppies (from that time you wanted to pet a bunch of puppies at Petco), is what his eyes linger on the most.

While the rational side of his mind knows you would be ecstatic to go to Eric’s wedding with him, the irrational side tells him that he shouldn’t bother you. What if you think he’s just using you for rides? Are you just going to drop him off? Should he invite you as a date? But, most of all, what if you just flat out reject him?

Rapmon senses his master is upset and tilts his head up at Namjoon as his paws start to pat him—at least, his leg—to make him feel better. Namjoon can only smile, patting his head in response as a silent thanks for the attempt to comfort him. However, because of that…

“No!”

One of Rapmon’s paws hits the call button and Namjoon can feel ten years of his life being shaved off as the tone starts to ring.

“Ahhh!!!”

Out of panic, he drops the phone quicker than a hot potato. Luckily for him, it lands on the soft carpet below. He looks to Rapmon, who looks around, panting—without a care in the world, as if nothing was wrong.

But right now, everything is wrong.

Before Namjoon could even pick up the phone, nevertheless hang up, the ringing tone stops and there’s a soft response.

“Hello?”

He stumbles around, trying to grab the phone, but hitting the coffee table with his foot and falling on his ass. “Oh shi—”

“... Hello?”

“Sorry!” he shouts aloud. He quickly puts himself together, sitting back on the couch and leans down to grab his phone. He clears his throat, before speaking. “Hello?”

“Hey, Joonie.” He can hear your grin over the phone. What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much..” He lets a small exhale, trying to calm himself from the embarrassing situation. “Um, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing really?” He hears some clutter as you are shifting the phone on your shoulder. “I’m just at home. You know, doing this and that.”

“Oh, oh. Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you—”

“Namjoon, you can never bother me,” you say. “What’s up though? Not that I mind you calling me a bit out of the blue.”

He opens his mouth, unable to really find the words. “So, uhm… This is kind of stupid.”

“More stupid than you cutting that onion?”

“That was one time.” His eyes close, trying to repress his laughter and the embarrassing memory. “Let it go!”

There’s a laugh on the other side of the line; your laugh is infectious, causing Namjoon to burst into a laughing fit as well.

“Um, okay,” he says. He lets out a sigh. “This is, like, way earlier than I originally intended.”

“Come on, Joonie. Spit it out; it’s just me.”

That’s the problem though: it’s you. But he can’t say that without it sounding weird. His lips twist to try to find the right words. “Do you remember Eric?”

“You mean the guy I met at Moonbyul’s wedding?”

“Yeah, him.”

“Yeah, I remember him. Why?”

“Well, he invited me to his wedding…”

“Oh, good for him.”

“Yeah.. but I was wondering…” Maybe he shouldn’t ask, but he does anyways. “If you could give me a ride?”

You let out a small laugh. “Of course I can give you a ride.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, when is it?”

“It’s in April, which is, like, a month away, but—”

“Considering how I can’t even plan the next day, I’m sure I’ll be able to give you a ride, like, a month later.”

“Well,” he says. He can feel his shoulders tense a bit. “It doesn’t just have to be a ride…” His fingers absentmindedly toy with a decorative button on his couch. “Did you… did you want to be my plus one?”

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can only swallow, feeling all the moisture in his mouth.

“... It depends.”

“On what?”

Your response is a bit softer from the original teasing tone you had before. “It depends if you really want me there.”

He relaxes, easily leaning back onto the couch. “Of course I want you there, consider it a trade deal.”

“A trade deal?”

“I get a ride and you get free food?”

You hum a bit into the phone. “I like that preposition, but could I refer to this as a favor?”

“Considering that it is a favor,” he says. “Sure—I owe you one.”

“I’m gonna hold onto that against you then.”

“I’m completely fine with that, (Y/N).”

“Okay, just keep in touch and text me the details when you get the time.”

Before you can hang up, he speaks up once more. “Hey, (Y/N)?”

There’s a bit more shuffling, but it stops. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“It’s no problem, Joonie. You can count on me anytime.”

He smiles into the phone for the nth time and looks down at his feet, feeling the blush return. “I know.” He pauses. “I’ll-I’ll text you.”

“You better, Joonie. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

“Bye!”

His phone screen turns black for a second, before returning back to your smiling contact image. His grin grows and he slumps back further into the couch, practically beaming once his body is bully molded with the couch. He turns back to his fluffy boy and plays with his fur, giving him thorough pets. “Such a good boy. I shall retrieve you a treat soon.”

Rapmon barks happily at his spot, continuing to pant as he moves his eyes on the television screen.

Meanwhile, Namjoon gets back to his spreadsheets, minimizing his personal email tab. He manages to do his tasks much happier now that he’s got something to look forward to.

April 3rd, 2020

Friday, 7:30PM

Eric’s Reception

Bright Rings Event Venue

—

“Anyone who knows Eric,” Eddie says. “Knows that he’s very easy-going. He’s able to get along with anyone, which is how he’s able to meet so many people and make so many friends. So, when I first introduced Eric to Anna, I thought this was nothing more than another just friends situation. Little did I know was that I would be standing here… as the best man for their wedding.”

He moves himself closer to the main table, where the bride and groom are seated. “As Eric’s brother—and manager—I did not think that he would be married before me.” The crowd laughs light-heartedly. “Don’t worry, I’m not bitter about it. I’m glad Eric has found someone who’s willing to spend their life with him, especially after getting to know him.” He lets out a small laugh as Eric pouts from his seat.

“Anyways, Anna—” He raises his glass. “This toast is for you. Consider this your official welcome to the Nam family.”

The guests click their glasses with the others, exchanging pleasantries along the way. Namjoon comfortably smiles at you, and vice versa, before drowning a mouthful of the bubbly champagne that you two had previously cheered with. The chatter picks up once again as Eddie sits down next to his date at the main table with the newlyweds. Everyone resumes their conversations, slowly building up to, nearly, maximum volume. Birds of a feather flock together—Eric’s loud personality attracts many other eccentric personalities.

Namjoon takes a look around, taking note of the other guests. There’s a wide variety of people; while some are from college, from what he could recall, most of them are unfamiliar faces and unrecognizable place settings. Although, he should thank Eric for his place setting—many of those at this table are faces he does know.

Jackson and his long-time girlfriend and recently engaged fiance, Hua Yi, were seated (luckily) on Namjoon’s left side and you were placed to his right. On your right, you sat next to Amy Lee and Amber—who were like Eric’s non-biological sisters. You were making easy conversation with the other guests, both familiar and non, as per usual. Maybe it’s due to your presence, but Namjoon has been able to easily converse with others as well.

Jaehyung, another close friend of Eric’s, is currently at the front of the stage to provide entertainment with his guitar. He sings a sweet melody, contributing to the light atmosphere—above all the chatter and light conversation happening.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to play the guitar,” you say, leaning closer to him. “Maybe I should’ve joined the band kids in high school to pick up a little something.”

“Well, I did band…. kind of.” His face contorts, remembering the piano lessons he was forced to participate in due to the school’s curriculum. “But, trust me when I say that it did nothing for me.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Nothing?” You lean in closer, with an elbow propped on your knee. “You almost became one of those famous soundcloud rappers. I think you should give yourself some more credit.”

“Yeah, well, I can only play chopsticks,” he says. “So, were those four years really worth it?”

“Is anything from high school really worth it though?”

You both chuckle as the old memories from high school started to occupy your minds. To think that Namjoon had really spent four years, not knowing what the hell he was doing—only to study for four more years to survive life and work a stable job with a stable paycheck... Time really does just fly.

“Oh my God,” he says. “High school was awful.”

“College was fun though.” You let out a relaxed sigh as you lean back and your eyes nearly sparkle from the fond memories you’d made way-back-when. “That’s the time period anyone would go back to.”

“I would prefer the experience without the debt though.”

“Thank God for scholarships.” You give him a little nudge. “Am I right, Mr. 148-IQ?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at your words in a playful manner.

Before he can respond back, microphone feedback plays through the speakers, causing most to wince at the sound. Eric and Anna have entered the stage area, nearly blocking Jae—who simply waves at the crowd with his head poking out from behind the couple.

“Hello?” Eric says. “Can everyone hear me okay?”

There’s a collective murmur and he speaks up once more. “Okay, we’re good. Before anything, let’s give another round of applause for Jae!”

There’s a light round of applause for Jaehyung, who gives a big smile and wave. Eric continues to speak after it dies down a bit. “Thank you all for coming once again. We both really appreciate that you took the time to be here for us.”

“Right now, we’re going to have our first dance,” Anna says. “So, we’re gonna slow things down with the musical accompaniment of our very own Ailee!”

Next to you, Amy raises from her seat and makes her way to the stage. You, along with Namjoon, clap for her—cheering her on as she walks towards center stage. She chats a bit with Jaehyung as the two of them start to set up. After a bit, she does a bit of harmony with Jaehyung and, shortly after, the sweet, soft melody of the guitar starts to play.

Anna guides Eric towards the middle of the dance floor, who’s got a grin the size of the entree plates; she places his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders, leaning into him as the song continues to play. Other guests slowly join them as well, including Jackson and Hua Yi.

In a couple of minutes, you and Namjoon are the only ones left at the table. You two continue to chat for the time being, even as the music changes and time continues to go by. The other guests come and go by your table (even Mark came by, but the thumbs-up he gives Namjoon made him quite flustered); some had left a bit sooner because of prior engagements they had arranged for the next day.

By this point, it’s past three hours—the cake has already been cut and the bar is officially open for the rest of the evening. The loud personalities had just gotten louder as the night got longer.

Yongsun’s alcohol tolerance has been hit as she swings on the stipper pole with a plate of cake in her hands. On the other hand, as the songs started to get more upbeat, Amy abandoned her post at the stage and headed towards the bar—where she’s been doing her own personal wine tasting (and karaoke session). Amber had briefly joined her, before deciding to lead an impromptu concert that may or may not have resulted with her currently crowd-surfing. Jackson is with Peniel… doing whatever they usually do (although, Namjoon definitely recalls Peniel holding very tightly onto a Naked smoothie bottle; something about getting naked at the reception).

The chaos goes on, even with the two of you in your own little bubble. The only difference though… is the alcohol intake as the time had passed. Considering how many glasses you had drowned, along with the ones Amy kept recommending to you and the ones brought by other servers, Namjoon is starting to remember how good your tolerance is. Despite that, you are definitely starting to feel it hit hard all at once. Meanwhile, he’s suffering silently from a mere three glasses.

You drown another glass of your white wine. “Ahh.” You lean back in your chair with closed eyes. “My guy, I definitely cannot drive for a while.”

A giggle spills from his lips as the alcohol starts to flow throughout his system. “I can’t drive at all.”

You laugh along with him; his giddiness is contagious. “Are you drunk?”

“Nope.” He pops the p, giving you a wide beam that showcases his perfect, shiny teeth.

You raise your eyebrows, but don’t say anything. You can’t focus on anything from seeing how red his face is. You can’t resist yourself and lightly tug on his ears—which are also a similar shade—to pull him a bit closer to you. “Joonie, you’re so cute when you’re drunk.”

He feels the blood rush more into his cheeks, but he can’t help his smile growing from the compliment. Even as you’re squishing his cheeks together, he doesn’t pull away from your touch.

“AYO!”

Both of your heads turn towards the stage. Anna’s clearly had her fill of alcohol too. Her hair is in loose curls from the tight updo she previously had. She currently stands on the stage, the mic in one hand and her bouquet in the other; her wedding dress was already ripped—but it looks as if it was chopped with some basic kitchen knife—to a shorter length.

“It’s time for the flower toss!” She waves it around, dangling it in front of the crowd. “Anyone who wants this can come and get it!”

A small group of people start to push their way towards the front as Anna turns her back towards them.

You divert your attention back to the man in your hands. “I’m gonna go.”

“Will you be back?”

“Very soon.” You look dead serious. “Swearies.”

He nods his head (to the best of his ability, considering his face is literally in your hands) and watches on as you head towards the crowd, easily fitting in with the others. He leans his chin into his palm, watching you engage with a bunch of people, who are literal strangers to you. It’s amazing how you can easily and naturally insert yourself into a group of people. He knows he probably looks like some type of idiot, but, right now, you are the only thing that matters.

Back at the stage, Anna counts, leaning back little by little with a swing of her hands. “3! 2!”

Just as she tosses the flowers over her head, Mike yells. “Yeet!”

“Mine!” Peniel calls.

But Matthew gets there first.

“Interception, bitch!”

He knocks the bouquet from its original path. It was almost like a high school basketball match from the way it happened.

Next thing you know, a couple of grown ass men were starting a brawl over an overpriced floral arrangement. Jamie interferes the two, squeezing herself in between the two idiots and easily whacking them, effectively getting them to stop.

“Not the tiddies!”

“Shut the fuck up!” she yells. “This isn’t about you!” With each word, she uses the flowers to hit each of them.

While everyone’s distracted, Jackson rips the flowers from Jamie’s hands. He makes his way over to Hua Yi, easily getting down on one knee. Before he says anything, Hua Yi rips the flowers out of his hands and yells. “We’re already engaged, you idiot!” There’s no harm in it, considering how wide her grin is and the blush that’s apparent on her cheeks.

Eric, eventually, takes over the stage once more—his tie loose and tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Despite it being his wedding, he looks like he’s seen some stuff happen. He stands next to Anna with the mic, which he definitely had to pry out of her hands, and simply sighs as he watches the chaos. “This is cancelled; y’all are banned—I’m calling the police.”

Of course, everyone ignores his empty threat and continues to brawl over the flowers.

Namjoon’s attention is taken away from the scene, as you move past the chaos, and head back towards him. You arrive back with a pout, immediately slouching back in your seat. He rests his chin on the table, inching closer to you with eyes that sparkle like an anime character.

“I didn’t get it,” you whine.

He pouts with you, feeling your pain. “I’m sorry.”

You let out a sigh and proceed to take another shot. A drop spills from your lips, trailing down your neck and Namjoon’s eyes unconsciously follow it.

“Joonie,” you say.

His eyes go back to yours. “Yes.”

“I need ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” His eyebrows furrowed together in concentration and thought. “They only have cake.”

“Then we need to go to the ice cream, Joonie.”

His eyes widen in a comedic size reeling you’re correct. He snaps his fingers, lifting himself from the table, and pointing directly at you. “You are a genius.”

“I fucking know, bro.” You pause as you realize your predicament. “I can’t drive.”

“Neither can I.”

“Not like that,” you say. “I’ve had like…. more than five glasses.”

“Really?” His mouth gaps open. “I lost count after the tenth one.”

“Ten?!” You gasp. “Did I really drink that much?”

“I don’t know, (Y/N). I said I lost count.”

You blink at him, slowly coming to the realization of how much alcohol was actually in your system. “Oh my God.” Your pout returns. “But I want ice cream now.”

He hums, rocking a bit in his chair, like an old man out on the front porch, to find some way out of the complication. His eyes finally met yours. “I think I have a solution.”

Friday, 11:45PM

After Eric’s Reception

Midnight Munchies

—

Your giggle overlaps with the sound of the bell that rings as you two walk into the late-night dessert shop. The workers greet you cheerfully, which you both respond back to. You are looking at the glass that showcases all the different flavors, whereas Namjoon tries to read the menu to the best of his ability—but his squinting shows how bad his vision is at the moment.

Back at Bright Rings, after some common sense had slowly started to come back, you both searched up ice cream places nearby. Luckily, Namjoon found a place that served ice cream at this hour and it was close enough to walk to—resulting in an improvised, evening stroll which was just the two of you laughing at dumb jokes along the way (he may or may not have used some of Seokjin’s dad jokes along the way).

Due to the lesser amount of drinks in his system, he sobered up a bit… On the other hand, yours still remained. But nothing can’t be fixed with a little bit of ice cream (at least, that’s what you said).

“Do you know what you would like?”

Your attention has been turned to the server behind the counter. “Uh, not me.” Scooting closer to Namjoon, you give him a nudge. “Joonie, do you know what you want?”

“I’m not sure,” he says with a slight frown. “What’d you think I should get?”

You let out a small hum as you think, before pointing to the fruit flavors in the middle. “You like fruit flavored ice cream, and you definitely need to try something new, so I say you should get the melon.”

“Okay,” he says with a nod. “I trust you.” He turns to the worker. “Can I please get a scoop of the melon ice cream?”

“Would you like any toppings?”

“Uhh.” He turns to you. “Should I?”

“If you want some, then get some.”

He hesitates a bit. “Strawberries?”

The worker raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Turning back towards the counter, he answers. “Yes.”

He receives his ice cream, waiting as you order yours and pays when you’re done—despite your protests. You two thank the staff and add some change into the tip jar, before heading out to go back to the venue to sober up a bit more.

For a bit, you two are enjoying your ice cream in silence as you walk side by side. You both walk for about a block—his footsteps match yours and yours matches his.

You’re the one who speaks up first. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

“It’s just ice cream, (Y/N),” he says.

“Still,” you start to say. “Considering I practically pushed you into inviting me out—”

“You didn’t push me. I wanted to invite you.”

You look to him, simply giving him a small smile. “Thank you.”

The two of you continue your walk back to the venue, but you abruptly stop and tug on Namjoon’s sleeve.

“What’s up?”

You point to an open park and, with another hand, you lightly shake his arm like an excited child. “Let’s go in there.”

He smiles at the sight. “Okay, let’s go.”

Your eyes gleam at him and you’re practically wiggling with excitement, before you sprint over towards the park gates like a child.

He shakes his head with a chuckle as he follows behind you. By the time he’s caught up with you, you’re already settled underneath a nearby tree with a view of the lake. He heads towards you in long strides and silently seats himself next to you.

You’ve already finished your ice cream—its remains left on the side. Namjoon manages to finish his, which isn’t hard considering how it’s half melted and less cold. White noise plays as you two sit back and relax. There’s a couple of bikers, dog walkers, and other couples that occupy the public space. But, for most of the time, it’s just the two of you in silence.

It’s broken once you let out a loud breath and fall back onto the grass. You shift a bit, trying to make yourself comfortable, and tap the empty space behind him. “Come on, Joonie. It’s just me.”

“Okay, okay,” he says. “Just give me a sec.”

He leans back, feeling the prickly grass brush against his neck, and rests his hands behind his head. You frown from the distance, easily pulling his arm and resting your head on it, scooting closer to him.

His breath gets caught in his throat from your proximity, but he doesn’t move away—almost in a near frozen state as you continue to lean on him. Right now, all he hopes is that you can’t hear how hard his heart is anxiously beating in his chest.

Instead, he tries to focus on the clear evening sky. It would have been nice for the stars to be out, but this is just as fine (although, the view can be done without all the red helicopter lights that pass by).

You let out a sigh, feeling a lot more sober compared to before. “Time is weird, huh?”

“What’d you mean?”

“It’s just—” You pause. “One moment, we’re just college students messing around and now we’re adults, doing things like jobs and going to the post office or something.”

He chuckles. “The post office?”

“Ugh.” You lightly hit him to get him to stop laughing. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh of his own. “I get it. It’s just… we’re grown ups—”

“Ew, please don’t say that.”

He chuckles again. “Look at us though. Could you have even imagined telling your younger self that the most eventful thing you’ve done this week is go to a wedding?”

“Weddings can be fun,” you try to defend. “There’s free food and good music.”

“Good music?”

“Better music than all those cringey ass middle school mixers.”

“You’re right about that,” he says. “I think I’ll die if I hear another remix of a top 40 hit song again.”

“You know which remix I hated the most?”

“Which one?”

“Love You Like A Love Song club remix.”

He lets out a hearty laugh from your answer. “I didn’t know that was a remix.”

“It is and it’s absolutely terrible. They did Selena so dirty.”

“Did they now?”

“Absolutely, Joonie. It’s a fucking monstrosity.”

You look dead serious, which is probably what makes him laugh even harder than before. His laugh dies down to a chuckle. There’s another moment of silence afterwards, the two of you focusing your attention on the calm atmosphere from the silence of the park and the calm waters that lightly splash from a safe distance.

The silence is interrupted as your phone goes off. Namjoon watches as you simply take the phone that was placed next to you. The light of the phone shines against your features briefly before you turn it back off.

You make eye contact with him and he has to turn away, clearing his throat from being caught. “What’s up?” he asks.

“Nothing really,” you say. “I just got a reminder for another wedding I have to go to.” You wave your phone, despite the blank, black scene. “I have to RSVP later… at some point.”

He hums, understanding the situation. Suddenly, you sit up as you shake him lightly, causing him to sit up as well.

“What?” he asks with apprehension.

There’s a glint in your eyes that Namjoon is unsure as to whether or not he likes.

“Remember that favor you owe me?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna come to my friend’s wedding with me?”

He leans back with a hand on the grass, contemplating whether or not he should. Would this count as a date? Nevertheless, an unofficial third date?

He does owe you a favor too…

So, it makes sense for him to accompany you to return the favor.

He finally looks to you, whose head is tilted towards him in curiosity with a smile that shines brighter than the sun and eyes that sparkle more than any star in the sky.

“Come on, Joonie. It’ll be fun.”

“Count me in,” he says. “Consider it a favor being repaid.”

Your smile turns into a beam before you settle back onto the grass with your eyes closed. “Let’s stay here a little longer.” You sigh. “I’m going to keep you for a bit, before I have to share you again.”

He lets out a sigh of his own, but you don’t hear it.

He’s already yours for the taking.

April 18th, 2020

Saturday, 9PM

Tiffany’s Reception

Rosey Pink Palace

—

“I’ve known Tiffany for over ten years,” Jessica says. “I’ve lived with her, worked with her, and that meant learning a lot about her, as a person and a professional. She’s someone who finds the balance between idealistic and realistic. She has been looking forward to finding her Prince Charming and now she gets to have her fairytale ending. I have never seen Tiffany as happy as I’ve seen her with Kaun Yin.” She pauses, looking at the two. “So, let’s raise a glass to congratulate the Pink Princess for finding her Prince Charming.”

The other guests give a light round of applause for Jessica, who gives another wave and smile—before she takes back her seat at the main table. Conversation is sparked once again amongst the guests.

At your table, Namjoon makes small talk with some of the others at the table (mainly those who he’d previously met at Junmyeon’s wedding). Despite the fact that this is your friend’s wedding, which is filled with literal strangers and acquaintances, he’s managed to mingle fairly well without your guidance. But that’s also the reason why he’s been dragged into a conversation with another table—i.e., the table behind him.

“Tiffany and I went out for ice cream once and she basically shamed me for not getting sprinkles,” Evan says. “I’m betting her cake is going to be the most colorful thing in the venue.”

“The pinks aren’t colorful enough for you?” Nichkhun asks with a teasing smile.

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “It’s called the Pink Palace, what other color did you—could you have expected?”

“I thought maybe Kuan Yin would convince her to other colors,” Evan says. He lets out a sigh, swirling his wine glass. “I blame my optimism.”

“If you know anything about Tiffany,” Nichkhun says. “Then you would know that no one could convince her out of something once her mind is set.”

“How long have you known her?” Namjoon asks. “I bet it’s been some time now.”

The handsome man ponders for a bit. “Probably about half a decade now,” he says. “Another one of my friends knew her and… we’ve been friends ever since.”

“That’s a long time,” Evan says. “I’ve only known her for a couple of years. She helped me out with some of my Youtube videos.” He sips on his glass. “She did a makeover for me once.” He turns to Namjoon. “How long have you known her?”

“Oh, I’m just a….” He tries to think of the word. Technically, he’s a date, so he should say date…. right? Something inside stops him from saying so though. “I’m just a plus one.”

“Oh?” Nichkhun says with a tilt of his head. “Of who?”

At that moment, you take back your seat next to Namjoon. You easily settle back in, giving him a smile, before noticing the other two. “Sorry, there was a line at the bathroom. Did I interrupt something?”

“Not really,” Evan says. He points to Namjoon. “Is he with you?”

“Yeah,” you say with a smile. “He’s my date.”

He nearly chokes on his water at your words, but your smile just grows when you look at him. Before he can respond, the conversations come to a bit of a pause as the newlywed wife gets up from her spot, stealing the crowd’s attention.

Tiffany makes her way up the main stage with a bedazzled, pink microphone in one hand and her dress in the other; Kuan Yin follows behind her with a hand holding the rest of her train, making sure she doesn’t trip on her way up the stairs.

“Hello?” She taps on the microphone to double check. “Everyone, thank you so much for coming. We’re so glad you were able to make it. Let’s give one more round of applause for the maid of honor!”

There’s another round of applause for Jessica and, once it dies down, Kuan Yin speaks into the microphone that remains in Tiffany’s hands. “She’s done a lot for us this past month and we’d like to thank her again for her hard work.”

“Right now, we’re preparing for the cake cutting!” she says with a giggle. “Our wonderful servers are getting the cake ready and it will soon be out!”

More light applause breaks the silence once more and, in a second, the two servers emerge from the kitchen with a rolling cart.

On top of the cart is a three-tiered cake, various shades of pink are dotted around and smeared to look like a sophisticated art palette. Edible, at least what Namjoon thinks, glitter is decorated along the side and sparkles in the light. White frosting is decorated on the edges and sprinkles top them off.

Well, Evan was right about one thing; it is colorful.

You lean over towards Namjoon. “I’m betting there’s glitter inside the cake too.”

“I’m willing to get into that bet too,” Nichkhun says.

Namjoon and Evan laugh.

On the other hand, Tiffany and Kuan Yin are already cutting the cake and passing it to the servers, who are immediately placing it on trays to serve to the other guests. You let out a little cheer once yours arrives. Next to you, Bora takes pictures of the slice that sits on her plate, showing them to both you and Na Eun, who’s sitting at her other side.

“I’m glad she got the red velvet,” Bora says.

“Yeah, it fits the aesthetic,” Na Eun replies. “And it definitely screams Tiffany.”

You pick at yours a bit, splitting the cake to see the rest of the batter. “I totally called it. I knew there was gonna be glitter inside!”

Namjoon just shakes his head, before grabbing a hold of his fork and diving into his dessert.

As the cake is cut and distributed, the conversation builds up again and the sugar has started to hit. Your plate is cleared, but Namjoon can’t get past all the sprinkles (which is why they’ve been abandoned on the side of his plate and you took that chance to poke some fun out of him).

In the midst of all the chatter, the newlyweds return back to the stage, along with Jessica, after the cake-cutting—with Taeyeon behind them, who has begun to set up the stage.

“I would just like to thank all the guests, once more, who are here to support Tiffany and Kuan Yin,” Jessica says. “Right now, we have Taeyeon, another bridesmaid, who will be singing the song to their first dance!”

Another round of light applause is given as Taeyeon gives a smile and wave. Meanwhile, Tiffany and Kuan Yin have arrived in the middle of the dance floor, looking at one another with so much love. Namjoon couldn’t help but be a bit envious.

“Congratulations once more to the happy couple,” Taeyeon says. “This song is for you—I hope your happiness will carry on for the rest of your lives.”

The guitarist starts to strum to a soft melody and Taeyon’s soothing voice starts to move throughout the venue. Other guests start to make their way to the dance floor as well, joining the slow dance. Namjoon moves his head along to the calm tune, swaying to it with his eyes closed.

He hears your chair move and he peaks an eye open, only to see you standing with a hand out to him.

“Would you like to join me for a dance?”

“I thought we agreed I should never be dancing,” he jokes.

You pout, putting your hand down. “We’ve been to so many weddings and haven’t danced once.” You put your hand out once more, wiggling your fingers underneath his chin. “Is little Joonie afraid?”

“We both know I’m not the best dancer.”

Your pout deepens and you take your hand away again. He has to stop himself from leaning back to your touch.

“That’s your insecurity talking,” you say. “Besides you don’t know until you try.”

He lets out a sigh, hiding a smile, and wordlessly puts out his hand for you. “Okay, (Y/N). I trust you. Please lead the way.”

Your pout turns back to a smile, easily grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bright tiles where the other guests are dancing.

Taking the initiative, as per usual, you put his hands on your waist and lightly place your hands on his shoulders. He hopes you don’t notice how shaky his hands are, or how much more sweaty his palms have gotten. His heart pounds even harder in his chest from the close proximity.

He let out an exhale, trying to keep it under his breath to avoid hitting your face with his glittery cake breath. Despite being friends for the longest time, Namjoon can’t remember a time he’d been this close to you. There had been a couple of times when you would drunkenly cling to him or the time you asked for a piggyback ride… But he’s never seen you like this upclose.

Under the sparkling lights, he can make out your features. Your eyes shine with excitement and anticipation, but he can’t tell from what. The way the slope of your nose dips is pretty, he notes—he’s never noticed. Your lips… they practically mock him.

He can feel his throat feeling dry again. Where are the champagne flutes when he needs them?

Even as he tries to avoid eye contact, your eyes don’t leave his face. A teasing smile appears when you take notice of his darkening cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” you jib. “You’re doing good. Are you focusing all of your brain cells into your dancing?”

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s without malice. “Haha,” he says. “You know I didn’t have that many to begin with.”

“You have 148 IQ.”

“Let it go, (Y/N).” He sighs. “Let it go.”

This time you roll your eyes at him, giving him a light shove. “You’re literally so smart. You need to embrace that more.”

“Don’t get too cocky on my behalf,” he says. “I think I got burnt out by the time we graduated.”

“Everyone gets burnt out,” you say. “Whether it’s emotionally, physically… Life has a way of doing that to you.” You lean a bit closer, settling your hands on the back of his neck. “What you choose to afterwards is how you decide its impact on you.”

He straightens up a bit, but doesn’t necessarily move away from you, putting himself in a more comfortable position. “You don’t ever seem burnt out,” he says. “I wish I had that endless energy. I might actually be able to do something productive with my life.”

“Hey,” you say. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Downplaying your abilities.” You let out a sigh. “You did it, not even, two minutes ago. You haven’t even stepped on my foot; you’re going just fine.”

He feels the heat on the back of his neck, hoping you don’t say anything about it. “Not yet, at least. Have you forgotten that tango class I accidentally registered for?”

You grin from the memory. “Considering that we were able to grow closer from it and it was required, not accidental… I have not.” You tilt your head at him. “But did you forget?”

“Forget what?”

“How much you improved by the time the semester ended.”

“I don’t know, (Y/N),” he says. “I didn’t get worse and that was all I was aiming for.”

“Sure, you weren’t perfect, but you were pretty good by the end of it. Admit that, at least.”

“Fine, I was pretty good at it.” He looks directly at you. “Satisfied?”

“Not really, but I’ll take it.”

The two of you sway for a bit, listening to the music and enjoying each other’s company. At some point, you lean against him with closed eyes. He smiles to himself, subconsciously pulling you closer and breathing in the faint scent of your shampoo. Letting out another sigh, he can’t help but think of himself that he could get used to you in his arms.

April 28th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM

The Roasted Bean

—

“Do you want to come to China with me?”

You choke on your tea. “Shit,” you manage to cough out with.

Namjoon scrambles to pass you the napkins and can only look at you with concern as you continue to cough. He waits for you patiently, expecting this kind of response from you.

When you had agreed to meet up with him for coffee, Namjoon said to himself he was going to plan what he would say to you… cut to the day of and he had planned nothing except, well, that.

Damn, procrastination really doesn’t stop.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You dab the corners of your mouth, trying to wipe off the remains of the tea that spilled from your lips. Your hands settle on the table as you look at him incredulously. “Did I hear that correctly?”

“In hindsight, maybe I should have provided some context.”

“A little would have been nice,” you say with a slight shrug.

He lets out a sigh, shifting in his seat. “I’m going to Jackson’s wedding,” he says. “... which is located in Hong Kong. I made the reservation awhile back, so I took a couple of vacation days to go to it and join them in the festivities. I even got Jungkook to dogsit RapMon, but, then again, that could easily go downhill. But, I thought, you know, since we’re, like, wedding buddies, you might want to go with me?”

“Wedding buddies?” you ask with a raise of your eyebrow. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.” You take another sip of your tea.

“It’ll be fun?” he says with an awkward smile. “Besides, you know Jackson.”

“I’ve met him a couple of times, yeah.” You take another sip from your cup. “I obviously wasn’t close enough to get an invite, but I know him.” You try to think, as if you were pondering the pros and cons. “I do know some people who were going to be in the wedding too.”

“You do?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but couldn’t help the curiosity.

“Yeah, there’s Mark. There’s also Jinyoung and Youngji.”

“Even if you didn’t know anyone,” he says. “It’s not like you won’t make new friends.”

You give him a shy, but proud smile in return. “I do adapt well.” Your eyebrows round from a realization. “Wait.” You give him a confused look. “You were originally planning on going to China…. by yourself?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks with a slight pout. “Is it a bad idea?”

“No,” you say. “Rather the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“How do I say it?” you mutter, more to yourself than aloud. “I guess—it might just be because I know what you’re like.”

“... Elaborate.”

“It’s not supposed to be a bad thing. It’s just that—I say this with affection, okay?” You clear your throat a little and lean back into your seat. “You don’t really leave your comfort zone, which isn’t a bad thing—it’s just a bit surprising that you are willing to leave the comforts of your home.” He doesn’t get the chance to respond; you continue to talk. “But, another thing I know is you’re fierce loyal, so it’s not necessarily that surprising. Even then, it’s a good surprise because this might be good for you.”

There’s a brief pause as he thinks to himself, absentmindedly swirling the remains of his coffee from his glass. You’re right (with both of your points). It’s not that he’s offended, or mad. It’s just that… you’re right. That’s it.

He knows he’s more of an introvert, which isn’t a bad thing—he just takes a bit longer to adjust to new surroundings and unfamiliar people. He’s very self-aware of it rather than self-conscious about it. To be honest, he really didn’t think things through all the way; he couldn’t say no to Jackson, especially considering how close they are with one another. The thought of brushing up on his Chinese also crossed his mind momentarily, but this trip is really more about supporting Jackson and Hua Yi.

“Namjoon?”

He freezes, snapping out of his thoughts. “Sorry, I just, like, spaced out.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just lost in thought.” He clears his throat. “What were you saying?”

“Nothing of that much importance, but—” You pause. “I just think this would be good for you, you know? You’d get some time off from work, get together with your friends, explore a new place, etc.”

“It’s just a week or so,” he says. “It’s not much, but… it’s something.”

“Yeah, but you never know.”

He hums, agreeing with you, as he taps his fingers lightly against the table. The tapping stops. “Wait, you never answered my question.”

“Wait, what was the question?”

He chuckles. “Did you want to accompany me to Jackson’s wedding in China?”

“Well,” you drag out, fiddling with your napkin. “I would need to see all the details, figure out a couple of things, but, overall…” You practically beam at him. “I’d love to.”

May 13th, 2020

Wednesday, 9AM

East Asian Airlines

Incheon International Airport

—

You nearly elbow him as you try to settle into your seat. Your neck pillow barely hangs on your shoulders, as you reach over to adjust the incline and decline with one hand and manage your downloaded playlist on your phone with the other.

“Whoa,” Namjoon says, trying to escape from your flailing arms. “You know this isn’t an overnight flight, right?”

You let out an exasperated exhale that’s far more dramatic than it needed to be. “Joonie, comfort is always a priority.”

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with comfort,” he started to say. “I’m just saying it’s a bit much for a four hour flight that you’re 100% going to fall asleep on.”

Your jaw drops. “The audacity.”

“Am I wrong?”

Your jaw promptly closes at his words, your lips twisting to the side. “No,” you mutter.

He lets out a laugh, patting your head as some type of reconciliation—messing it up a bit. “Sorry, I only speak the truth.”

You grumble in your seat once more, playfully glaring at him with a petty look in your eyes. Without breaking eye contact, you lightly slap his hand away and start to fix the mess he created on your head. “Says the man who told Taehyung he looked handsome after his home haircut, but okay. Pop off.”

His eyes narrow at your sarcasm, but he doesn’t say another word.

While you fiddle with the light and air conditioning functions above, he plucks out an airline magazine from the seat in front of him—in an attempt to ignore the numbness of his long legs due to the small, cramped area he’s been provided.

Curse this capitalistic society and the stupid economy seats.

He flips open a page, glancing through. Most of the pages are promotions for products that no one really needs. There’s also an absurd amount of pillows that they were insisting to be sold. Who needs a pillow that can work as a lap-desk? Or a bendable neck pillow that can be twisted into a hugging pillow? There’s also a pillow that can be folded into a miniature pillow. These are all awful, he thinks.

As he inwardly questions and critiques each product, he fails to notice that you’ve finished settling in, tugging on his jacket to get his attention.

“What’s up?” he asks without looking up. “Finally settled?”

“Say all you want, Joonie, but when I’m napping like a champ, you’ll be restless in your spot like a chump.”

He stifles his laughter, raising his eyebrows from your words, flipping through the pages without actually looking through them. “Okay, (Y/N). Whatever you say.” In his peripheral vision, he can see you pouting from his lack of reaction.

You lean back in your seat, taking another deep breath. “You know, I think this is the first time we’re traveling together, isn’t it?”

“I think it is.” He looks at you. “This is our first trip together.”

“Well, first overseas trip.”

“First overseas trip,” he says with a hum. “You think there’ll be more?”

You smirk. “Only if this one is a success. But, for now, we’re just wedding buddies.”

“Wedding buddies?” He lays a hand on his heart in mock hurt. “We’ve known each other for years and this is what our relationship has come to?”

“You defined it first,” you say with a poke of his chest. “If anyone is to blame, it’s you.”

His lips are pulled back—half frustrated at himself and half disappointed. Before he can retort, the bell has been rung and the attendant’s voice comes on over the intercom.

“All passengers, please take your seats as we are taking off at 9AM sharp.”

Another bell rings and the seatbelt image flashes on. The attendants go around, checking the seatbelts and others begin to start the safety procedures. Namjoon tries to remember it all, but eventually finds himself accidentally tuning out the information. Sensing his panic, you remind him that it’s also in the same pocket he’d been grabbing magazines out of.

After a little while, the plane starts to ascend. Both you and Namjoon wordlessly look out the window, taking in the view as the buildings get smaller and smaller. Once the captain had announced that passengers are now allowed to roam about the cabin (with reason, of course), you lean back in your seat and plop in your other headphone.

“Wake me up when we’re descending?” you ask.

He nods, letting you play your music and close your eyes. About twenty minutes pass and you’re already asleep, But, your neck pillow is still barely hanging on your shoulders. He manages to adjust it comfortably for you, without waking you up—he’d call that a victory for his clumsy ass.

To pass some time, he goes through some more magazines, eventually getting bored of them. He should’ve downloaded a playlist or something; granted, you did nag him a bit to do so at the terminal gate because you didn’t want him being bored on the plane.

As usual, you were right.

He looks over at you once more, before deciding that he should nap too.

If he’s being honest, he was too nervous last night to get any sleep at the thought of spending, nearly, an entire week with you… in an unfamiliar country. He really didn’t think these things through. On one hand, it’s normal to invite long-time friends on trips and go to events together, platonically. On the other hand, he technically had feelings for you. But, he also thought those feelings had died down… until he actually started to talk to you again.

Deep down, he knows the feelings never really died but that’s a conversation he’s not ready to engage in. But, he’s also aware that he’s stupid and lacked the brain cells to even think of the possible cons that would come when he invited you to an overseas wedding...

Sleep, Namjoon thinks. Sleep is great for avoiding problems like these.

He lets out a long sigh, settling into his seat with a close of his eyes.

Yes, sleep is the best solution.

...

Ding. “Passengers, you will need to return to your seats soon as we are close to our destination.” Ding.

As Namjoon starts to regain consciousness, the light from his window that shines on his face stirs him awake. He lets out a sigh, lifting his head from yours as he rubs his eyes. You remain asleep on his shoulder with your headphones still intact, but your neck pillow sits uselessly in your lap.

He’s suddenly awake and aware of your current position. He unconsciously clears his throat, instantly feeling thirsty, causing you to shift a bit closer to him.

The intercom comes on once more. “Once again, passengers, if you could please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts, we’re going to begin to descend soon.”

From the announcement, he lightly shakes you. “(Y/N),” he whispers.

When it doesn’t work, he shakes you a bit harder. “(Y/N).”

You let out a groan from being awoken. “Ten more minutes.”

He shakes you again with a bit of a laugh. “You don’t have ten minutes.”

“Give me ten minutes then.”

“No, wake up.”

“No.”

“(Y/N),” he whines. “Wake up.”

You let out another groan, reluctantly opening your eyes—immediately shutting them from the bright lights of the afternoon sky. “Are we there yet?”

“Nearly,” he says. “Why did you think I woke you up?”

“To torture me?”

“I wouldn’t do that to my precious wedding buddy.”

“Damn,” you say. “Your sass levels are up.”

He laughs in response.

Your conversation is interrupted as the bell rings once again, the attendant’s voice filling the air.

“All passengers, we are descending to our destination.”

You let a small squeal of excitement from the official announcement, leaning out towards the window to take in the new sights. He can’t help but smile at your childlike wonder, moving himself out of the way for you to take in the scenery as the clouds start to part.

“We apologize that there will be a bit of turbulence, so if you may all please fasten your seatbelts for your safety. Once again, we are starting our descent—passengers, we welcome you to Hong Kong. Thank you for choosing to fly with East Asian Airlines. We hope you’ve had a wonderful trip.”

A/N: Thank you for reading the first part of Plus Two! Please do not ask about updates—you can check the upcoming page to check on the status of the second half!

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weevil-wallflower · 4 years ago

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Without warning, Robotnik draped himself across Zinnia's desk and studied his nails while he spoke. "Dr Frost! You like other people, right? At the very least, you're good at acting as if you're interested in their mundane lives and their idiotic, self-induced personal issues! Why don't you write the Yearly Holiday Memo in my place? I could use a little me-time after this hellish year I've had." He glanced up at her and grinned. "Thanks in advance!"

Zinnia looked a bit amused at the way Dr. Robotnik settled on her desk like a giant cat and “requested” that she write the memo in his place. She had half a mind to say no but she couldn’t just refuse to do something work-related that her boss tells her to do. Besides, it’s actually an excellent opportunity to plan a nice holiday event! So, she after finishing up her work, she wrote a nice memorandum and emailed it to all the employees, with a carbon copy emailed to Robotnik, of course.

>-<->-<->-<->-<

TO: All Employees CC: Dr. Ivo Robotnik FROM: Dr. Zinnia Frost, Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s assistant DATE: 25/11/2020 SUBJECT: Annual Christmas Holiday Memorandum

Dear employees,

I, on behalf of Dr. Robotnik, would like to extend my warm wishes to you and your family for Christmas and would also like to thank you for all your hard work and sheer dedication and hope that this will continue for years to come by.

To celebrate this joyous festival, I invite you all to relax and unite together with a light and happy heart at the Christmas barbeque that will take place on December 12th, starting at 3:00 PM at the main Compound garden. There will be plenty of drinks and a Christmas tree will be lit at 4:00 PM. We’ll have a small band playing traditional carols as well so feel free to sing along! And don’t be scared if our CEO shows up dressed as the Grinch! I will handle him uwu.

Additionally, please be informed that this event is for employees only. I sincerely apologise for that but due to security reasons, you are not allowed to bring along anyone who is not an employee. But the upside is that this event is free of cost, of course. I hope you all attend and enjoy it to the fullest.

Those of you who would like to attend, please register here by 5th December, 2:00 PM so that we can cater enough food for everyone!

On another note, I know you all want to make sure the holidays are enjoyed and appreciated by your whole family, but planning an itinerary is easier said than done. After all, balancing busy schedules and interests of the entire family is no easy task. So, to help you out, I will suggest some fun holiday activities you and your family can try:

1. Attend a Tree Lighting Ceremony

Many cities or landmarks will have a ceremony honouring the lighting of their tree. It’s a night where crowds of people attend the festival, dressed in their warmest attire and gather around the tree waiting for it to spring to life. This will really get you in the Christmas spirit!

2. Connect with an Old Friend

The holiday season is the perfect time reconnect up with an old friend that you haven’t met in a while. So, reach out to and set up a time to get together. Who knows, they may end up becoming one of your best friends!

3. Try New Recipes

Whether it’s baked goodies or soothing drinks, you and your family will enjoy making some delicious treats. These are some of my favourites:

Be mindful of any food allergies you may have, though!

4. Try Out a Winter Sport

Ice skating, sledding and skiing are great sports to enjoy during the winter, and an even better way to get your kids up and outdoors during their holiday break. During the Christmas season, outdoor ice skating rinks start popping up. There are even indoor skating rinks! So, bundle up, put on a pair of blades and glide around the rink!

5. Do a Random acts of Kindness, Donate, Volunteer

Christmas is all about giving, even if what you give are just small, random acts of kindness. They are some of the most fulfilling and sweetest things you could ever do. Donate toys to children. Try your local homeless shelter or children’s hospital. Trust me, giving a gift to a child in need and seeing them light up with joy is one of the most rewarding things you could do. You can also donate food and warm clothes to the unfortunate people who need them to help them get through the frigid winter season. Gather some from friends, family and bring them to the local homeless shelter. Volunteering is also a very easy way to help and spread some joy. Of course, volunteering is a great thing to do at any time of the year, but during the holidays there are even more opportunities. Pick a cause close to your heart and spend the day giving. Find opportunities near you on the Volunteer Match or the United Way website.

6. Start a New Family Tradition

When in doubt of what to do during the holidays, Christmas is the perfect time to start a new tradition that will live on in years to come. It can be anything like a special dish you cook every holiday season, volunteering at the local shelter, Christmas carolling or wrapping your kids in gift paper and rolling them under the tree for fun. The possibilities are limitless! You’re sure to find something you’ll look forward to every year.

7. Make a Homemade Gift

There is always something special about giving and receiving a homemade gift. Everyone loves to receive them from their loved ones as a lot of time and effort is put into creating them, making them all the more special. It could be a glass frame with pressed wildflowers or a snow globe—the possibilities are endless!

8. Have a Christmas Craft Party

Get the Holiday fun started by hosting a Christmas craft party. Set up crafts, invite your child’s friends, and have a few seasonal snacks to carry them through the party. Here are many crafting ideas that you could enjoy making on that day. Whichever crafts you choose, having a day like this will be fun and memorable.

9. Watch a Holiday Movie Favourite

Slip into your comfiest pjs, make some popcorn and have a holiday movie marathon with your loved ones. Some of my favourites are:

Mickey's Christmas Carol

Disney's A Christmas Carol

Klaus

Home Alone

The Nightmare Before Christmas

10. Kiss Someone Under the Mistletoe

Who says there’s no time for romance? Set up mistletoe in your home and lead your beloved partner under it to have the splendid excuse of kissing them.

Last but not least, remember to look after yourself and your mental health. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed or stressed time to time hence I encourage anyone experiencing mental health issues to seek support. Remember, it is okay to ask for help, even for the small things so they don’t become big things. If you’re unsure about how to go on about this, or would even just like a friendly chat, feel free to contact me directly by email and I will do my best to assist you.

I once again would like to express my gratitude towards you all and wish you and your family a Merry Christmas!

References:

https://www.jing.fm/iclipt/TixiR/

https://www.unitedway.org/get-involved/volunteer

https://www.volunteermatch.org/

https://www.personalcreations.com/blog/christmas-crafts-for-kids

https://thegardeningcook.com/4-ingredient-recipes/

https://christmas.lovetoknow.com/image/190165~Hot-Spiced-Christmas-Wine-Recipe.jpg

https://www.chelseasmessyapron.com/mason-jar-gift-mm-christmas-cookies-free-printable/

https://www.behance.net/gallery/60502155/gingerbread-cookies-illustrated-recipe

http://buttermilkbasin.blogspot.com/2010/11/cheris-sugar-cookie-recipe.html

https://ohsobeautifulpaper.com/2013/12/friday-happy-hour-classic-egg-nog/

#rp #in character #find the easter egg 👀#she couldn’t resist using the uwu face!#annual christmas memo written by Zinnia instead of Robotnik this year :3 #i went overboard but seriously this is exactly what she would've done #volunteer #do some kindness #seriously guys there are some very useful links I’ve included #christmas 2020 #merry christmas to everyone #I used this as an excuse to spread some good vibes #uwu

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violetsystems · 4 years ago

Text

#personal

If there were ever a silver lining to anything these days, it’s that I am also qualified to work at IKEA. In Shanghai. You guessed it. Cybersecurity. I do like to rearrange my crappy furniture every once in a week. But between rotating the kitchen table a precise ninety degrees for more elbow space, I’ve been feeding the algorithms like hungry plants. Sometimes they are monstrous. Someone on Amazon reviews had targeted me over a skin care product. You had to click a layer deep. A metallurgist from New York who was a professor at a major university. His reviews of fiction were endless of Grant and the civil war. You could put two and two together. And a week or so later the algorithms did. They suggested in an email blast every fucking work of importance about said Grant and the confederacy. Needless to say, I’m not really a fan of such perspectives. But awash in all this is my own personal data which governments refer to as PII henceforth my shitty Magnum jokes. We here in America love this thing you call freedom. But most of our data is not free. In fact, it is harvested, manipulated and spat back at us in a condescending way. Depending on the algorithm of course. Machine learning could be good for humanity. If it actually paired datasets together that were mutually beneficial to one and other. We humans do this when we connect communities together in a diverse and democratic way. There is a power to that. Of course, there are people who can’t profit off of people thinking and working for themselves. And thus, here in America we don’t have the same protections as Europe with laws like GDPR. I hear American diplomats chant all the time about how setting foot in mainland China is a blow to your privacy. All I experienced was a Big Mac at Pudong airport. When I was on Instagram and Facebook it felt like a waking nightmare. As if algorithms were interacting with GPS data to lure people together. This was the after effect of Pokemon Go in real life. A product that was funded partially by government money for not so obvious purposes. Social Engineering is an equal opportunity employer I guess. For better or for worse. These days there’s no shortage of human operators out there trying to sniff for clues. Looking for a job in the midst of all of it is frustrating enough. Knowing the balance between networking, ghost accounts, and maintaining the professionalism in between. I have never known who is interacting with me online and why sometimes. I have clues. I can guess but is that psychologically healthy in the long term for a person. It can be deeper than catfishing. Whole entire friendships shrouded by fake names. I stick to the ones I can visualize without a migraine. And the narratives that might support it out of hiding. Like commuting to Shanghai for a job for a range of companies. Or waiting around for the rest of my previous employer’s obligations to me to settle.

If you ever wanted to look at someone who is totally and utterly mindfucked but exceedingly okay with it all it is me. And the value of that is still to be determined. I wake up some days and wonder why I haven’t hurt myself or done worse. I quit drinking almost four years ago. I cleared all of my credit card debt which sits at zero to this day. My credit score is above eight hundred. I paid my rent. Nobody bothers me much. I am alone all the time except when I go for groceries. I sleep alone with my cat on my shoulder. People interact with me in the most bizarre fashion. I feel empty and ghostlike. And yet there’s these small windows of hope. I haven’t applied for anything else. I think sometimes you have to put your name out there and see what it means to people. The algorithms thought I was a good fit. There are other things it seems to think I am a good fit for. Friday night the algorithms pelted my notifications for the first time in awhile for jobs here in Chicago. And they were bleak. I felt more empty. I felt overwhelmed by the fact through reaching out I have seen no closure or solace. When I do connect with people from my past on that platform it’s mostly professional. Like a note of encouragement but no real desire to go deeper. You feel like a leper. And this isn’t the first time. I’m starting to realize I’ve felt isolated and exiled for longer than this entire pandemic. I feel used and manipulated over and over and through and through. And yet I also have this very thin layer of understanding with the rest of the world. One that I couldn’t really escape if I tried. One that I really have no idea what the outcome is. But it’s something I had to try. You throw a rock across the pond and it lands with a splash. And people start connecting two and two together. What happens? To me nothing. It was such a far throw to reach you. I’ve been throwing rocks for years. Missing every time. And then you just nail it. And people aren’t looking. It’s frustrating. You know it landed. And yet you know nothing. Maybe it needed to landed in the pond a little further to the left. Maybe IKEA furniture was blocking the way. Maybe it dropped into somebody’s Prada bag. The general point is this. I’m in your area. And in some ways you are in mine. I don’t know what the answer is. I don’t think it’s mine to solve. Unless it has something to do with keeping the internet safe. And this community has always felt true to that for me. Everyone I’ve ever shared these ideas and desires with has held a silent respect and knowing. And we’re more than just machines grinding out data in a callous way. We are people trying to connect to real emotions and dreams. And in some ways, I’ve found that people here actually help each other emotionally. Which is why it is such a torture to look for a job at the mercy of social networking that treats you like a dataset and not a loving, caring human being.

I am beyond hurt in my life. It feels both hard and easy to say. I have experienced the most soul crushing ego death no one could ask for. And I live with it silently like a beast inside me. Nobody gives a real fuck about me in real life. Nobody has ever given me a hug. Nobody has ever reached out to touch me and ask if I was okay. And somehow people on the internet have. For years. Silently layered on top of this casual and fragile society we live in. A complex network of people who trust each other and care in their own way. A respect for privacy, space and dreams. These are the things I was sworn to protect even if nobody ever gave a fuck. I did not want to fail the people who inspired me. And yet I am a complete failure. I am worth absolutely nothing to people other than to compare or constrast themselves and their stock portfolios to. I am a mirror in a house of broken dreams. A fractured idea of what could be if someone would just piece me the fuck back together. And the algorithms try I believe. And they shove data in front of my face I don’t want to see. They push and pull me apart and I’m expected to ride the pink wave off into the sunset. When each day I feel more and more like garbage. This is what is to be expected. I’m supposed to throw it all away. And yet I’m also supposed to wait for people to get their shit together. The last two months I was abandoned in the most hateful and spiteful way. I don’t know if that’s what the intention was. But my feelings are beyond existential. The hope I cling onto is weighted by things holding me back. And the indecision with people to trust I am somebody. I have never felt like somebody. I have felt invisible, hopeless, and dried up. And always there’s this breath of that one day I will be discovered. I will be taken off the bench and treated like someone special. And it never comes. I grow older. My life becomes more complex. The things that keep me alive and the decisions I make are in a complete psychological vacuum. This is self reliance. This is being an adult. And yet I am completely alone in this process. It makes me cry. It makes me angry. It makes me sit here and want to scream. But here in space. The personal space. The intimate private space we all share. Nobody wants to see me break down. Especially you. And if you didn’t know by now, now you do. I will keep throwing that rock until somebody catches it and asks why. Because I have no other choice but to send the message. I care. I have always cared. Whether that means anything to anyone is the real mystery. I don’t know that it does. I hope. But hope does nothing. You have to try. And you will fail. You know me best at that. How many times I have failed. It’s highly probable I’ll succeed one day. By myself or other wise. <3 Tim

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 5 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/planet-alert-april-2020/

Planet Alert April 2020

By Mahala’s Astrology

Welcome Spring! Thank goodness we are on the way to some nice warm weather and more sunshine. I am writing my article a little early this month because of all that is going on in the world. I was totally surprised how fast the whole earth was shut down. I never believed it could happen that fast. For those of you who are staying home; I hope you are enjoying your time off. For the service workers who are still working; I thank you for being the great Beings you are as you continue to help people. What would we do without the nurses and doctors and the people who keep the grocery stores open so we can still get food, and many others who help in many different ways. I bless all of you.

Here is a quote from Kitty O’Meara. “And the people stayed home. And read books and listened, and rested and exercised, and made art and played games, and learned new ways of being and were still, and listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people begin to think differently. And the people healed. And in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless, and heartless ways, the earth began to heal. And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed”. Thank you Kitty!

In my last article I talked about the 24th chapter of Matthew where it says “when you see a man standing in the Holy Land giving a speech (that would be Trump when he gave his speech in February) then it is time to take to the hills because there will be a time of tribulation like there has never been before.” We are now in that time period because of the Coronavirus. It has affected the whole world.

The Bible also says that this time period would be shortened to save the Elect. This must mean that the virus will not be in effect for as long as the leaders are saying it will be. Right now, the energy of fear is running rampant and this is why we are in the time period of shut-down, which needs to happen to stop this virus.

March is the 3rd month of the year and the word fear adds up to 3. I guess that is why they say March is the month of madness. Maybe the energy will improve when we move into April because that is the 4th month. Passover starts on April 8 and continues until April 16. The full moon is the night of April 7th.

We are experiencing the repeat of the Moses drama right now. Think about what happened in the movie The Ten Commandments. (Hollywood style of course.) Moses went to the pharaoh and said “Let my people go, they want to be free.” Don’t we also want to be free from control right now? Then in the movie many people died, which is happening right now with the virus. Then darkness came upon the land.

In Matthew Chapter 24, it says “At the time of the great tribulation the sun will be darkened and the moon will not give its light. The stars will fall from heaven and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.” What will cause this darkness to happen? Could it be the planet Nibiru? I almost forgot about that planet because people had stopped talking about it. Then the other day I received a picture of Nibiru (the Red Kachina) and the email said it is approaching Jupiter’s orbit right now which will soon make it visible to the naked eye. Link Jonas Passos March 16th.

Another prophecy is that the rivers will turn red as Nibiru gets closer to us. This is from the red oxide that comes off the planet. Then I received another email about how the rivers all over the world are turning red right now. Link Rivers and Waters are Turning Red. This is the only thing I can think of that could cause the sun to be darkened and the moon to not give its light, and the heavenly bodies shaken.

The Bible seems to put things in order of how they will happen. First it talks about the man standing in the holy land (USA) then the great tribulation (virus) happens and everyone becomes fearful of this virus. That sure has happened. Then it says that the sun will be darkened and the moon will not give its light.

Right after that happens, it says “the sign of the son of man will appear in the heavens and the people of earth will rejoice because we will see the son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory”. He will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather the elect from one end of heaven to the other. This is when we move into the new earth.

I think this time period is getting close because Passover happens in April and so does Easter. If this darkness does happen at that time, are you ready? The conspiracy theory says that the darkness starts on April 1st and will continue until April 10th, which is Good Friday. I don’t know exactly when this will happen but it is the next thing on the agenda. I know I have repeated much of what I said in my last newsletter but I thought it was important to repeat it because we are now in the great tribulation and the darkness could happen at any time.

Many planets have been lined-up in Capricorn since January 12-13, 2020. Capricorn rules structures and governments and look at what has happened since January. The structures are coming down big time. I have never seen anything like this happen in my life- time, have you?

Mars went into Capricorn on February 18, 2020 and started triggering all of the planets in Capricorn. Mars is an energy planet and is good at triggering events. When Mars made an aspect to Jupiter, the stock Market started to go down and is still going down. This is so the new money system can come onboard, which is already set-up and ready to go.

Pluto rules viruses and that is why the pandemic got so bad in March because Mars had been approaching Pluto. Mars and Pluto are exactly conjunct today. This means that a crisis has happened, and now Mars will start moving away from Pluto, although it may take a while before the virus leaves.

Mars will be in Capricorn until the end of March, and then Mars will move into Aquarius and join Saturn. This will be an entirely different energy because Capricorn rules control and Aquarius rules freedom. We will then move out of the control energy and start manifesting freedom. I think April will be a very intense month because the sun will be in Aries which is ruled by Mars until April 20. Then the sun moves into Taurus and everything changes.

Light manifests the energy of 11/2 and the word dark manifests the energy of 16/7, which is the Tower Struck by Lightning in the Tarot. I think the towers are starting to fall. If we add 2 + 7 it adds up to 9 and that is the energy of love which is the glue that holds our Universe together. Love encompasses everything so “Think with your Heart “and we will make it through this great tribulation with flying colors. Maybe everything will change for the better by Mother’s Day. Wouldn’t that be nice.

So Be It.

***** Written in light and love by Mahala Gayle ****

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winchester-with-wings · 6 years ago

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Chemical Reactions (Part 22)

Series Summary: Being a teacher at Central City Academy doesn’t leave much time for a personal life. You didn’t really notice or care…that is until the day the new substitute science teacher, Barry Allen makes an appearance.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 22 Summary: You and Barry only have a short time to make a decision.

Pairing: Barry Allen x Reader, Substitute Teacher!Barry Allen x Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 2700ish

A/N: Thank you to my amazing friend and beta @thinkwritexpress-official!! Hope ya’ll like it! Sorry that it’s been a while since I posted. Life has been crazy. just been pulled in every direction lately. :( *i don’t own gifs*

Ya’ll are finally gonna find out how this story got it’s name!

warnings(?): angst, Barry cusses. that must mean it’s emotional right?

Please let me know what you guys think of the story! Send me asks!

Mobile Masterlist

This was posted almost a month ago on my Patreon! Wanna get previews, early access and make requests? Become a Patron! Can’t become a patron? please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi (Tips are appreciated!)

The weekend goes by as usual. You and Barry order in and grade homework on Friday night. On Saturday, you hang out and binge Netflix. Sunday morning, you have a brunch with Caitlin. It lasts several hours as you tell her about the meeting with the Dean.

“Have you and Barry talked about it, yet?” she’d asked.

“No. It’s kinda like we’re pretending it didn’t happen at all,” you answered honestly. You’d slumped in your chair because you were as much to blame as Barry. You didn’t want to face it either.

On Sunday night...

You cling to Barry and he holds onto you. You’re curled up in bed, a late night show on the bedroom tv, but the volume is down and neither of you are paying attention. There’s a bedside lamp on, casting a warm glow over the two of you.

Barry is wearing flannel pajama pants and a cotton t-shirt with some faded logo on it. You’re wearing an extra large and extra old t-shirt too. It’s the shirt you wear when you’re sick or cramping from your period, or when you’re just not feeling good, perhaps sad. Barry pretends not to notice.

You’re resting your head on Barry’s chest and pulling the comforter up to your chest. Barry curls his arm around you and runs his fingers through your hair. It’s soothing for the both of you.

In the silence, you’re left alone with your thoughts. Barry must feel your warm tears soaking through his shirt. He reaches out with his other hand to stroke your cheek, wiping away the sadness.

You still feel hopeless.

“Barry...what are we going to do?” you say, sniffling.

“I don’t know,” he whispers back. “We still have some time. We’ll figure this out.” He kisses the top of your head before reaching out to turn out the light and turn off the tv. “Just get some rest, sweetheart.”

Barry’s grip tightens around you when he feels your body shaking, wracked with quiet sobs.

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

You and Barry keep your distance on Monday and Tuesday. Caitlin, Ronnie, and Cisco notice the distant attitude but of course they understand. No doubt Caitlin has shared the news with them and the two of you don’t mind.

But Barry...he hates how he’s acting. In even just two days he’s become detached and less energetic while teaching. The students would have to be blind to not notice the sudden change. He knows you’re feeling terrible too. He doesn’t blame you for not telling him about your meeting with Stein. He didn’t tell you that he’d received the same email too.

He still hasn’t told you about Patty either.

He meant to. He’d asked you down to the track field that day to tell you about Patty’s behavior. But he’d just been so happy to see you that it had escaped his mind at the expense of his better judgement.

Patty is in Barry’s forensic science elective class.

“Hello Mr. Allen,” she says in a rather suggestive tone while walking into his classroom before everyone else. Barry props the door to his room open and stays standing. He watches her and tries to gauge if she’s acting differently. It’s obvious to him but he hopes the rest of his students can’t tell. No, they can just tell that something’s wrong with him. Even one or two of his students asked if he was okay on their way out of class. He lies, of course.

Patty just keeps looking after him with a secret twinkle in her eyes.

On Wednesday, he can’t take the chance anymore. He needs to know if she knows anything else. How else can he make a decision with you about Dr. Stein’s ultimatum?

“Patty, come see me after class? ” Barry whispers to her while the class is engaged in lab work. She gives him a sickly-sweet half smile and it makes him nauseous.

She delays putting away her things in her backpack at the end of class until she’s the last one there. Then Barry closes the door and locks it.

“Looks like you’ve come around to my proposal, Mr. Allen.” Patty sits on one of the tables and crosses her legs. She’s wearing shorts today and the pose shows off her tan and toned legs.

“Absolutely not.”

Her smile only falters for a moment.

“You’re not getting what you want, Patty. Sorry if that’s the first time you’ve ever heard that,” Barry says curtly, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

“But...I--I’ll tell Dr. Stein that you propositioned me. He’ll believe me.”

“Really?” Barry scoffed. “Why do you think he’ll take your word over mine?”

“Because...because he already knows about you and Ms. Y/L/N.”

And there it is.

“It’s just an anonymous tip right now. I could retract it if I were so inclined.”

Barry’s chest rises and falls with angry breaths. His hands are in his pockets but they’re balling into fists.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to manipulate me? What do you have against Y/N?”

“Oh, I have nothing against her. It’s you, Mr. Allen. I want you. I want you before I leave this place.” Patty hops down from the table and starts approaching Barry. He stands his ground. “I’ve always been a good girl.” She rolls her eyes. “Teacher’s pet, following directions and always behaving. I’ve got that 4.0 GPA my mom wants me to have. I’ve been accepted to the college she wanted. I’ve always done what others expected of me. Now it’s time I get something that I want, that I deserve.”

“You’re not getting what you want, Patty. I’m not going to touch you and you’re not going to come between me and Y/N.”

“But I already have. I saw you two at the field last Friday. I have photos now. Dr. Stein won’t believe you, no matter what you have to say.”

Barry tries to recover from the shock of those words. He suspected that it could have been Patty at the field but photos? He tries to think back and recall if it’s even possible. Is Patty bluffing again? She wasn’t bluffing before either...she’d gone to the dean and snitched on your relationship. Did she really have pictures?

Did it even matter?

Barry sighs and calms down; his angry furrowed brows come apart once more and he smirks at Patty. He walks to his classroom door and unlocks it. Patty seems taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor.

It doesn’t matter. He knows that now.

Who cares if Patty has pictures? You and Barry had already admitted to kissing on campus. You’d admitted to the relationship and the two of you would face those consequences. And Patty? It didn’t matter what she had to say to the Dean, because Barry’s side of the story was the truth. You would support him; he had to have faith that you would believe him.

Barry opens the door.

“Our conversation is done, Miss Spivot. I’ll see you the next time we have class. But that’s the extent of our interactions from now on. If you have questions with homework, you’re welcome to get help from the tutoring center. Have a nice day.” Barry doesn’t let Patty get a word in as he ushers her out.

He doesn’t doubt that she might be heading for the dean’s office right now with those photos. He can’t bring himself to care. What he truly cares about is you. And he’s dreading the conversation you have to have before Friday. Dr. Stein will be expecting an answer soon.

Either one of you leaves CCA or you break up.

He knows where he stands on that decision. But what about you?

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

The few days the Dr. Stein had given you has gone in no time.

It was both the slowest and fastest week you’ve ever experienced. Classes go by in a blur. Everyone is more aware of the upcoming end of the year. Less than 8 weeks left. Has this year really gone by that fast?

Time flies when you’re falling in love.

But on Thursday, the minutes pass like hours. You’re in no particular hurry to get home. You’re dreading the upcoming night. Barry made plans to stop by a liquor store to grab wine. You expect him around dinner time.

He enters your apartment with the key you gave him. Setting down the wine, he finds you in your bedroom.

Curled up in bed. Alone and feeling numb.

He kicks off his shoes and climbs onto the bed, curling an arm around you and pulling you into his chest. He can see that you’ve been crying, the skin under your eyes red and puffy.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Barry, what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. I guess we have to figure that out. But it’s going to be okay, Y/N.”

You pull yourself out of Barry’s embrace and get off the bed. Your tears are renewed and you’re running your fingers through your hair, ready to tear it out.

“How can you say that!? You know it’s not. We knew being together was a risk. And now this is the ultimate consequence.”

“Maybe not,” Barry responds, getting to his feet as well. You start to walk away into the living room and he follows. “Maybe there’s another way.”

“What are you talking about?” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you grab the bottle of wine and stomp into the kitchen for a bottle opener.

“I know who filed the complaint.” Barry’s lips form into a tight line and he looks anywhere but you. You freeze just before the cork pops out of the bottle.

“What? Who did you tell? You think it was Cisco or Caity? They would never do this to us,” you rapid fire your questions.

“No. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Well neither did I!”

“I know. Babe, I know. It was…” Barry sighs and starts rubbing hard at the back of his neck. He rolls his head from side to side. “It was a student.” You stare at him in shock so he continues. “Patty Spivot. She...she--uh--she came onto me the last day of school before Spring Break. She said that she knew I was seeing someone, a student or a teacher...I thought she was bluffing. She didn’t know who I was seeing. Didn’t have any evidence. She said she was going to go to Dr. Stein and...” Barry goes on while you pour yourself and him a glass of wine. He scoffs in anger at himself and rolls his eyes. “She threatened to go to Dr. Stein and fucking tattle-tale on me if I didn’t give her what she wanted.”

“What did she want from you, Barry?” You offer him the glass of wine but keep your distance from him, standing back and leaning against the counter while he confessed.

“I don’t know.” He threw his hands up before taking his glass of wine. “I don’t know. I didn’t care. I don’t know if she wanted me to fucking kiss her or to fuck her. I don’t know, Y/N. It doesn’t matter. I said no.”

“So you let her go to the dean.”

“You’re missing the point, Y/N. A student came onto me. That’s a helluva lot worse than two teachers getting together. I wasn’t going to compromise myself or what we had.”

“But you did, Barry. She filed the complaint and now our relationship is on the line.”

“What would you have had me do? Give the princess of the senior class what she wanted?” Barry’s face twists up in disgust and insult. What was your answer going to be? You didn’t even know because what would you have done in his place?

“Why didn’t you tell me about this? I went into that meeting and I was blindsided.”

“I meant to tell you. At the field. But I didn’t get the chance.”

“Right because…” You trail off because you were there and you were partly to blame too; kissing him back under those bleachers, desperate for that secret thrill. You finish your glass of wine.

“I talked to Patty yesterday. I thought I could get her to retract the complaint. But she’s the one who saw us at the field. She claims she has pictures.” You don’t answer right away, looking at the ground and replaying the events in your head.

“How could she? She ran away the second she saw us,” you say defensively.

“Exactly. I don’t think she does have pictures but the so-called damage is done. Dr. Stein knows about us.” Barry takes a long sip of his drink; he wishes it was stronger. The red wine coats his throat, soothing it from talking. His mouth remains dry and his throat grows tighter. He’s holding back his own emotions and tears. You’ve cried enough for the both of you. He needs to keep it together that much.

“We admitted to it,” you whispered, “and it was all just an unfounded claim until then.”

“That’s why it doesn’t matter if Patty supposedly has pictures of us,” Barry muttered.

“We should’ve stayed quiet. We shouldn’t have admitted to it. We should’ve known it was just a rumor. Oh god, Barry, what are we going to do? How could we be so stupid?” You start crying all over again and Barry closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms. Your hands grasp at his shirt, balling into fists.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” you hiccup.

“Yes,” Barry soothes you, rubbing your back. “I’ll leave CCA. I’ll teach somewhere else.”

You push against Barry’s chest so you can unbury your face and look up at him.

“What? No, Barry, you can’t do that. It’s a full-time position and you just accepted it. You love it and I encouraged you to take it. I can’t let you do that. It’ll hurt your career!”

“Y/N, you’re more important to me than some job. I can find something else.” You push yourself out of Barry’s arms completely, the heartbroken look on his face kills you.

“No. I can’t let you. I’m not worth that. I’m not worth losing your career over. Barry, you can’t quit. I will.”

“Absolutely not. You’ve been at CCA longer; you could even get tenure someday. I’m not letting you give that up. I can find another job. You should stay.”

“You don’t think I could find another job?” You’re projecting your own doubt onto Barry and he knows it.

“Of course not. You know I don’t think that. You could have any job you wanted. But I don’t care about some job. What we have is real. I love you, Y/N.”

You stay silent rather than repeating the sentiment.

“Love and desire are just chemical reactions, aren’t they, Barry?” you say, somber and unwilling to meet his gaze. “Hormones mixed with dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin. Isn’t that right? It’s not real; it’s just a scientific concoction.”

“Y/N...what are you trying to say?”

“Barry, we jeopardized everything to be together.”

“Yeah? We knew the risks from the beginning. It was fucking worth it,” he says harshly. He’s raising his voice, it’s raspy and his face is contorted in anger and pain. He’s fighting for you. “And what? You just want to throw it all away now?”

“You don’t want me to quit CCA and I can’t let you quit. We’d end up resenting each other. I don’t know what other options there are now.”

You finally look up when you hear Barry scoff and release a shaky sigh. His beautiful green eyes are dull but glistening with unshed tears. His shoulders have slumped and his mouth is hanging open with his lower lip quivering.

“Y/N, don’t do this. Please don’t do this.” He approaches you, slow enough to allow you to retreat. You don’t. He cradles your face between his hands. His tears fall freely as he wipes away your own. He continues to shake his head and your hands shake as you hold onto his waist. “P-please, no. Don’t do this.” He presses wet, salty kisses to your lips. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get past this. We’ll figure it out.”

“No, Barry. No, we won’t.”

tagging: @autoblocked @book-loving--anime-chick @abbessolute @overlyobsethed @therealcap @whoopxd @bookworm4ever99 @geeksareunique @potterwolf16 @frankie2902 @fabinapercabeth4179 @yessoftball-lover06 @karazoiel @blckthrns @barry-writes @ravenhaviland @clockblobber @iammsamy @softdudebro @parkerschurros @stuttering-psychopath @woaahkelsey @montytheravenclaw @sanya-gryff @smutfornerds

#my writing #barry allen #barry allen x reader #barry allen fanfic #barry allen imagine #barry allen angst #the flash x reader #flash imagine #the flash au #the flash imagine #barry allen au #barry x reader

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imagineseclipse · 6 years ago

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Your Character Development Imagine

Season 1 Part 4

“Have I ever told you that I hate you?”you slumped down in the passengers seat of Stiles’ jeep. If you could even call it a jeep.

“Many, many times. In fact I think that’s the first thing you say to me when you see me”Stiles realised, raising his eyebrow slightly.

“Why are you mad? You just made me pay you 150 dollars to go to one party which by the way is not going to be fun because we have more important things to be worrying about”Stiles rambled on.

“You’re lucky you aren’t paying with your life”You retorted as you fastened your seatbelt.

“Sorry why do I even have to come? If you wanted moral support I’m not the person for it”

An idea flashed into your mind, you fluttered your eyelashes cunningly.

“Althoughhh, If you do want me to give you moral support that’s another 60 dollars for my services”you smirked.

Stiles almost choked on the oxygen surrounding him.

“Chill nerd I was kidding”you rolled your eyes before reaching forwards to turn up the music that had been playing in the background.

Stiles also reached forwards, turning the music back down to it’s original volume before facing your briefly.

“If we’re gonna be working with eachother we need to make some rules”Stiles nodded.

You snorted, suddenly realising that Stilinski was in fact being serious.

“I don’t play by the rules, especially if they are made by you”you informed the teen, who was trying his hardest to keep his eyes on the road.

“Well if you want my help you’re gonna have to compromise”Stiles tutted in response.

You found yourself mumbling profanities.

“Fine”you sighed.

A grin spread across Stiles’ face, a small smile made its way onto your own face but it quickly disappeared when you realised what was happening.

You were smiling. For once you were genuinely smiling.

“Fantastic okay rule one, you’re not allowed to call me names anymore”Stiles chirped.

“No”you shook your head.

“What do you mean no?!”Stiles gawped.

“When I call you names, it’s because I want to punch you-probably for your stupidity-so by all means if you want to make that a rule I’ll have to start punching you instead”you raised your eyebrows.

“R-right, well in that case s-scrap rule number one”Stiles spluttered out trying to shuffle over in the drivers seat, creating distance between the two of you.

“That’s what I thought”you hummed smugly.

“Rule one is that we have to spend time together so that I can observe you”Stiles stayed.

It took a second for the two of you to register what he had just said. You looked over at him, your nose scrunched up in disgust.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”Stiles exclaimed quickly.

“Sure thing Stilinski I knew you were stalking me”you teased.

“I’m your lab partner not your lab project”you added.

Stiles had noticed that recently there had been moments where you had been more playful with him. Not that he was complaining . In fact it made him more intrigued he wanted to know you.

Not the angry, misunderstood you, he wanted to know the y/n that people rarely got to see. Deep down Stiles believed you weren’t as bad as everyone made you out to be.

“I’m serious though, how am I gonna help fix this if I don’t personally see what’s going on with you”he said.

“I was kinda hoping that you’d do your own independent research throughout the week and then email me a report every Friday”you answered resting your head against the jeep window.

“I’m sorry y/n, this is a rule I’m just not getting rid of”Stiles put his foot down, quite literally aswell. Sending you flying forwards in your seat, you sent him a glare. The moon was rising and you had to get to this party before anything happened to Scott, or anyone else for that matter.

“That means I’m gonna have to see you and Scott everyday”you groaned.

“Look, you and Scott are going through the same thing. You never know you could help eachother” Stiles spun the wheel.

“I really doubt that”you whispered to yourself.

When you arrived you were immediately taken back by the sight of drunken teenagers, literally everywhere. The stench of alcohol and sweat invaded your nostrils and your ears practically started to bleed because of the loud music.

This wasn’t your scene at all, you shuffled closer to Stiles, leaning over slightly.

“Stiles, about that extra 60 dollars. I don’t think I’m joking anymore”you shouted over the music.

You sensed someone approaching you from behind, your eyebrows furrowing together and your fists clenching. The smell of perfume and anxiety circled you.

Stiles noticed your discomfort, he also took note of your glowing eyes. They were a brighter shade of grey this time. All of the smells and noises around you became intensified by a hundred, proving that a full moon really did effect the supernatural.

“Y/n, is everything okay?”he grew concerned.

“Yeah”you managed to reply through gritted teeth. You’re headache began to grow stronger along with the music.

“Okay rule number two, always be honest with eachother”Stiles gripped onto your shoulders.

“Rule number three, no touching”you pushed him away gently. The sense that someone was coming your way never left you.

“Y/n, I want you to stay right here. I’m going to find Scott”Stiles pointed towards the house before walking away.

“Don’t you dare leave me all alone at this stupid part- I’m going to kill him”you spoke to yourself realising that your protests weren’t getting you anywhere.

As if on queue you felt a tap on your shoulder, the perfume was almost intoxicating you. You spun around to see a very lost Allison Argent. So that’s who you had been sensing.

“Uh hi y/n right?”Allison sent you a friendly smile.

You shoved your hands in your pockets, sighing.

“Yeah that’s me, although I wish I wasn’t me at the moment”you mumbled.

“I thought you weren’t coming?”she laughed.

“I heard it was family night”you raised your eyebrow at the brunette, you’d overhead Scott’s conversation with Stiles earlier that week about Allison not going to Lydia’s party.

“You got me there”she laughed lightly.

Silence fell upon the two of you, both stood awkwardly. For a moment you could feel Allison’s emotions all at one time, she was confused and angry. You knew it wasn’t any of your business but something urged you to turn to Allison.

“What’s wrong?”you asked, not really experienced in the whole giving advice thing. You regretted asking the second after you opened your mouth.

“Is it that obvious?”She looked up at you, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah I can kinda tell by the look on your face”you lied, you’d actually been able to tell from a mile away you’d felt what she’d felt and it terrified you.

“That makes the two of us then”her eyes flickered towards yours for a second before she started to talk.

“What’s the deal with Scott?”she blurted out.

Your mouth dropped open, you couldn’t really tell her everything, that would be ridiculous she’d never believe you and she would definitely never speak to Scott again. Not that you actually cared. It would just be complicated.

“Scott? He’s just going through some things at the moment I guess, but Allison I’m not really that close to him but I can see he really likes you. Just don’t give up on him yet”you found yourself defending Scott for a moment, you didn’t know why though.

Allison didn’t understand why you were always alone

She responded with a nod, shooting you an award winning smile.

“Hey, do you want to come inside and have a drink with me and Lydia?”she offered.

“Uh I think I’m gonna have to pass, I’m waiting for someone, speaking of I should probably ring them”you noticed the time and you realised that you really were going to commit murder.

“Maybe I’ll see you around then?”Allison asked hopefully as she leant in, wrapping her arms around you. You stood awkwardly for a moment, frozen to the spot.

You patted her back slowly, slightly frightened at what was happening.

“Yeah maybe”you replied quietly.

As Allison walked away back into the party your eyes became fixated on Lydia’s house, without getting too close your eyes fixated on one of the windows downstairs. Green pupils peirced through yours and you got a weird vibe.

Derek Hale stood watching you, he didn’t show any emotion and it was weird because you couldn’t read him like you had Allison. It was almost like he knew what was happening because he furrowed his eyebrows at you before disappearing back into the crowd.

You began to embark on a quest to find out who Derek Hale actually was when you heard a cough come from behind you, you spun around to see Stiles Stilinski leant against Roscoe his arms folded.

“How did you-?”you looked back at the house trying to figure out when Stiles had left the party.

“What is up with everyone tonight, sneaking up on me it’s creepy”you complained.

“I never sneaked up on you, I’ve been here for a while now”Stiles confessed.

“How long?”You asked raising an eyebrow.

“Well long enough to know that you don’t give yourself enough credit, you did really well giving Allison advice”he sent you a nod, he was lowkey proud of you.

“So you were watching the whole time and you didn’t think to save me?!”you exclaimed angrily, you wouldn’t have been put in that awkward situation if it wasn’t for Stiles.

“You didn’t need my help, you were doing great by yourself”he protested.

“So did you find Scott in the end?”you asked as you opened the passengers side door.

“No y/n and I’m freaking out help me”Stiles whined.

“Well considering Allison was alone and she’s pissed maybe he bailed on her and went home?”you suggested.

Stiles clicked his fingers at you.

“Genius, why didn’t I put two and two together?!”he questioned himself as he sped off in the direction of the McCall house.

“Take me home first”you groaned.

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philadelphialunchrestaurant-blog · 5 years ago

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Obtain the closest Wells Fargo Bank in Portland

Find The closest Wells Fargo Bank and even ATM Locations in Portland, OR. Get Wells Fargo locations in addition to hours, expert services and driving a vehicle directions.

Wells Fargo Bank 97214

Wells Fargo Bank, 310 SE Taylor St Portland, OR 97214

Reviews

Comes to an end afternoon before the Toil Day holiday and just one teller to help- absurd wait- very aggravating! Clearly may care concerning customer service.

Reviews

I had the fee in the credit card My partner and i was trying to cancel. I referred to as customer program with 10/31, spoke to a extremely kinds individual who put in my dispute (#14854307) and stated I would have this funds launched within forty eight hours, We produce an email confirming that furthermore. This interest charges were released in 48 hours but not necessarily the charged. I known as again on 11/7 on 4: 10 spoke to a new man, provided proof my own request to the firm in order to cancel my demand. Described that again this budget in dispute were not introduced. This individual claimed that they ended up returned back to my abolished cc number in problem and that the funds would be back with my new card in 48 hours. Again most of these chats are recorded. Since 7: 45 this morning hours the money had even now not necessarily been credited. My spouse and i directed wells fargo a good e-mail, no response. My partner and i called on my break in which the call up ended at 9: 19. The first woman that will I speech to said that she found that will the request was submitted to have the credit rating transferred from terminated credit score card to the in service one, but that this will take 5-10 business enterprise days and nights to have the credit applied not really twenty four hours. I inquired her exactly why I was first lied to instead of provided accurate information on the decision on 11/7 in which often they already have the recording often the I was lied for you to and not really chosen appropriate information, She am not able to response my question, Specialists in order to communicate to a supervisor. My spouse and i spoke to Claudette who also again said of which this transfer would definitely not take place with regard to five to ten enterprise days, never ever after responding to the inconvience that was causing me or perhaps appoligizing for the problem that will caused the money to be transferred to a good cc number they will terminated or the other miscalculation they made in which will I has been certainly not presented accurate data. She performed not care. Definitely not solely does Wells Fargo generate false accounts, which can be fraudulence, but they outright along recorded calls lie for their customers. Never ever perform business enterprise with this bank. As soon as it is resolved I will always be going anywhere else!!!

Reviews

Super tiny location. That they only acquired one company when we went. Workers was friendly. Simply no restroom. Free 30 minutes airport parking out front.

Wells Fargo Bank in Portland

Wells Fargo Bank, 635 SW 6th Ave Portland, OR 97204

Reviews

I am the treasurer of the small non-profit group. Charitable contributions and book sales can be found in at random instances. The projects like educational shows, books etc can certainly take some sort of lot involving money. have been working with wells forgo for years however the costs incurred by Wells Fargo will be draining our balances together with reducing what we can do. $10/month for checking plus another $6/ month for savings. $192 a year- even though that amount seem to be like much it decreased what we are capable of doing. Bore holes Fargo wasn't willing to stop changing we closed both accounts and planning to a further bank that isn't asking fees.

Reviews

Are typically in a few times with regard to questions and am often still left happy in addition to secure together with my business with Water wells Fargo. Perfect people worki there way too, wish I actually could remember brands.

Reviews

My broker was so patient together with valuable setting up my trading accounts. Wells Fargo is some sort of huge loan provider but at this point at this place not any one will fall throughout the cracks. Feels nice to be respected and taken care of. Cheers Donald!

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Wells Fargo in Portland, OR 97201

Wells Fargo Bank, 1300 SW 5th Ave Portland, OR 97201

Reviews

Stopped here after job to downpayment my massive bonus offer check on an account I've had to get many years. I was admonished the fact that because it was soon after 4 on Wednesday that will the funds would definitely not be available until finally Friday. I say admonished for the reason that vibe I obtained seemed to imply that I has been some kind of felonious hobo trying to pull a quick one. I experienced no purpose of yanking the money outside correct after I put it in. Nevertheless , in this particular day time and era, We think it's total B. Ersus. that the cash isn't very available right away. Hell, whenever I employ my debit card, I actually can check my balance online five minutes later on and find out the transaction. Will Wells Fargo use the particular Pony Exhibit to fetch the cash through the banking companies that cut us inspections? Otherwise, I don't know precisely why those orders acquire times when other individuals get mere seconds. Made us grouchy.

Evaluations

Awful customer support, all people viewed like they will completely hated their jobs... often the manager(Sara? ) had been extremely impolite and less than professional. This only smiling face taking in the room seemed to be from the brokerage.

Testimonials

The customer services is here is really lacking. Let's be sincere. It merely requires plain sucks. My spouse and i was informed I'd include to sit down with an account supervisor to modify some thing minor on my own account. My spouse and i went inside on a good Friday plus no one surely could accomplish it so they told us they'd call myself very first thing on Wednesday to set up a great appnt. They even verified my own phone number. Some sort of couple of weeks later and I still don't have heard from these people. My spouse and i was initially just through there now, your bank was initially empty, I could observe four account managers at their desks, only a single which was helping a customer, together with We has been told someone would be perfect with us. Fifteen moments later, still zero acknowledgment, so My spouse and i received upwards and left. I've truly disliked having WF because my bank for quite a good while these days, and this particular has been the final hay. Give thanks to you to get ultimately pushing me to seek out a new bank/credit association to be able to transfer all of our accounts to!! I are going to be with a new standard bank by following full week. Cheers again!

Wells Fargo Bank Portland, OR

Wells Fargo Bank, 1405 Lloyd Ctr Portland, OR 97232

Reviews

I really like my local community, but you can find no financial institutions close to my home. The particular only ATM's within taking walks distance are those questionable convenient kiosks that charge a couple of bucks. Those CREDIT bandits are withdraw just, naturally , so any other banking orders My spouse and i have to accomplish need some sort of special trip in the car. That makes me grouchy. Gratefully, the people at this kind of Wells Fargo diverge together with generally very pleasant. Now i am welcome with a enjoyable hello and some cheery chit-chat. Nice folks.

Reviews

The customer service here is below doble, and Wells Fargo inside general has been leading to us issues. The on-line accounts encounter issues as soon as a good calendar month, and I've experienced anatomical problems having the ATM at this area. When calling and acquiring the tellers browsing on me through the windowpane, they just continued to consume their food and ended up hesitant to help even nevertheless they could observe everyone on the phone dialling with the window while his or her cell phone was ringing in addition to they were only 12-15 minutes from beginning.

Reviews

I traveling frequently and love to become ready to stop simply by limbs as needed. My spouse and i ended into this branch and was treated now kindly. Everyone had some sort of smile and you could say to many people come in often. I love seeing company's have a compact town feel, especially around a hustle and bustle town.

Reviews

Seems going to be able to this branch for a long time mainly because my possibilities will be confined. I steer clear of coming into this branch on just about all prices. Twice now, a couple months apart, the same teller offers incorrectly applied a pair number of dollar payment in my credit card. Give thanks lord the pin number pad questions the customer to verify in advance of processing! One card I use usually for big purchases and the additional merely actually has ten to twenty dollars charged to it. Currently, I possibly said, "payment on the Cash Smart to Visa please" and she EVEN NOW put it on the particular additional card. The credit card that is presently PAID OFF. Also, a few yrs ago, a banker almost closed my accounts I actually share with the mother while i was at this time there with my own ex-fiancé for you to close our mutual balances. No one seems for you to spend any attention to be able to the details in the dealings they are processing. Now i'm so glad My partner and i changed the majority of my banking must a Credit rating Union.

Reviews

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Wells Fargo Bank 97209

Wells Fargo Bank, 845 NW 11th Ave Portland, OR 97209

Reviews

We have only had excellent experiences with this subset of Wells Fargo. Whenever I go in I am approached the instant I walk in and certainly not possess to wait more compared to a time to be helped. I have caused the brokers (John plus Mitch) on this side branch numerous times to deal with supervision issues about both business and private accounts and have always was feeling well taken care associated with and all problems possess been recently quickly solved. Kudos!

Reviews

It takes some sort of lot for me to assessment a bank. I click on over for my do the job dealings like expense record take a look at cashing etc. I could utilize the ATM but I get in every moment. The people are why. Super nice and good. I think they recognize myself. Probably. l certainly not but you get that will perception. Furthermore they constantly have straps connected with $2s and I love that. Parking would be testing nevertheless I walk together with cycle.

Reviews

Tom as well as manager Michael will be amazing. I used to work with regard to Wells Fargo and may honestly say I've never ever viewed such amazing customer care around my years of financial. Thank you for resolving my troubles in addition to being so eager to support.

Critiques

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Reviews

This kind of has not necessarily been my usual branch to accomplish business throughout, but I've had excellent service in this article every time My spouse and i occur in. Most recently, I actually had a fairly obnoxious transaction that essential several verifications, and was assisted proactively by Claudia here. Cheers for your follow-up in addition to working with me!

#Wells Fargo #Wells Fargo Bank #Wells Fargo Locations #Wells Fargo Hours #Wells Fargo Near Me

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tasharii · 6 years ago

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Your Colors: Ch.9.

A/N: Sooo life caught up with me basically. I've got a new full time job in a new state that's taking some getting used to. But I'm not giving up! I love this story and I'm invested and it's killed me to not have time to write. This is my happy place. In order to accommodate and hopefully get a new chapter out every week, or every other week if things don't work out, my chapters are going to get a little shorter. I'm going to try and restrain myself, but still be proud of them.I hope you guys can work with me and stick around. I've got another Bucky story coming up involving ghosts and circuses...... BUT I'm forcing myself to at least finish a rough draft before I start posting it. This is the only story I'm going to allow myself to write on a week by week basis.Thank you guys so much for all the feedback on the last chapter and for giving me so much support. It really means a lot to me and I love hearing everything that you have to say. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Art was the one good thing between college, work, and the grey minutes in-between. Sometimes, it felt like she wasn’t alive at all. Just drifting. When she joined her new art class, she never expected to start experiencing everything in an entirely new light. All thanks to him. Or: Where Bucky Barnes gets more than he bargained from his new drawing partner.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 10K

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, unrequited love angst

Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

****

Sharp pounding on her door drew her out of a very deep sleep. It dug into her temples and instantly pissed her off. Groggy, Y/N reached out a heavy arm and patted around on her nightstand until she found her phone. The light made her eyes squint, and she brushed her tangled hair back off her face. 10AM. It was 10AM on a Friday morning. Her day off. One of the few days she didn’t have anywhere to be until the afternoon. Just fantastic.

Annoyed, she tossed her phone beside her on the bed and groaned, scrubbing at her face. As if that would make the dust bunnies in her head clear up. Then the banging started up again. Growling, Y/N sat all the way up and kicked at the knotted blankets around her feet. They fell off the bed in a clump, and chills sliced down her spine from the brisk morning air. Pale blue sunlight filtered in from her drawn curtains.

Somehow, she managed to clamber out of bed and shouted, voice rough from sleep, “I’M COMING!” The knocking stopped for a minute, and she yanked at her tank top, straightening it. The air nipped at her toes, and she stumbled over to her bathroom door. Fluffy robe in hand, she loosely tied it on. Covering her bare legs, and underwear. Not a care in the world about how she might look. Just brushed a hand through her hair to get it out of her face and headed to the door.

Flinging it open, Y/N automatically glared at the three men across the threshold in the dimly lit hall, “Can I help you?” She asked, yawning halfway through. Words muffled by the hand over her mouth, she slumped against the door to keep herself standing.

The first guy gave her a very unimpressed once over, and scratched at his balding head, “We’re here to fix a leak.” He drawled. When she continued to stare at him, dumbfounded, he slowly elaborated, “Your landlord said you’ve been complaining about a leak in your kitchen.” Even from where she was, she could smell his abundant amounts of aftershave. See the sweat stains along his shirt. Could even count the little scabs littering his neck from nicking himself shaving. Yet he was looking at her like she was an idiot.

Blearily, Y/N blinked and glanced over at her kitchen in question before it finally dawned on her, “Oh! Ya, there’s this huge stain. Luckily, it just drips into my sink. Not the floor.” She nodded, happy the landlord finally listened after months of complaining, but then frowned, “He didn’t tell me he scheduled anything.” Eyebrows together, she stood up straighter and fidgeted with her pale blue robe, adjusting the belt. The man’s dark eyes were roaming across her just a hair more than she appreciated.

Shrugging, the balding guy, his nametag called him Rick, tilted his head, “Do you want us to fix it or not?” He asked. Behind him, the other two were playing around on their phones. Already checked out for the moment. Lazily, Rick glanced down at his notepad, and tapped at it with a pen.

She pulled her hair over one shoulder and bit her lip, “How long’s it gonna take?” The open doorway let a cool draft that fluttered the edges of her robe around her legs. Goosebumps covered her thighs, and she really wanted to be doing anything else but this.

Yet again, his shoulders bobbed up and then down, “Depends on the damage. Hopefully we’ll get it done today. If not, we’ll come back tomorrow. Got someplace you can go to kill some hours? We’ll be out no later than 7 tonight.” A hint of impatience made his words sharper at the ends. He scribbled something down with his pen, scratching it on the top corner like he was trying to get ink to come out.

Ya, Y/N had somewhere she could go. Just hadn’t planned on actually going today. It took her just a minute to think about it. To hesitate. There was no guarantee that her landlord would follow through with rescheduling. He was flighty like that. And if the leak got worse, she could see him trying to pin it on her. Make her pay for it. Say that it was her fault.

Reluctantly, she stepped back, and waved them in, “Ya, just let me get around. I’ll be out of your way in a bit.” When the door shut behind them, she tried to hide a grimace. Their shoes were muddy, and no one offered to take off their boots. Well, the carpet was already stained to hell. Not like it would be very noticeable. But it was rude.

After showing them the leak, Y/N disappeared into her bathroom for a shower. Took her time, and even blow-dried her hair instead of letting it dry on its own. Dressed and ready for the day, she could hear them banging around in her kitchen. Loudly. She peaked out and saw that they had started digging in the ceiling. Her kitchen had a dropped ceiling with panels. They had at least three panels scattered along her floor. Along with debris and questionable dust.

One of the other guys, David, spotted her over by her bed, and called, “It’s going to take us at least today to fix the pipe. Nothing too bad, but we want to be safe.” He offered her a thin-lipped smile. At least he was trying to be polite. Toolbox in hand, and handing supplies to the other two up on stepstools. Distantly, she wondered why it took three big guys to fix one leak. Rick cursed and yanked a wrench from David’s hand, growling out something she couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it didn’t make David happy. He rolled his eyes and dropped the toolbox down on her counter, hard. Before she could get too stressed out, she turned away and tried to not think about the mess they were making.

Honestly, Y/N didn’t know a thing about plumbing, or maintenance and she didn’t care. Even if she should. So, she walked away and picked her phone off her nightstand and shot her landlord an email to thank him for finally sending guys over to fix the issue. And to also, subtly, verify that he did indeed send them. That they didn’t just pick an unfortunate mark for a robbery. Even if they had, she didn’t have much they could steal. Just some ridiculously expensive, used, art supplies that probably didn’t have a good resell value.

Legs crossed up on her bed, she felt a shot of pain twinge through her ribs. A quiet, tired sigh left her as she racked a hand through her hair and stared up at her ceiling for a second. Despite feeling better after her shower, Y/N’s stomach twisted as she glanced back down at her phone. Specifically, at her text messages. Bucky had messaged her around 9, before she woke up.

Bucky: Still want me to come over at 1?

No. No she didn’t. At least she had a legitimate excuse as to why he couldn’t come over. Before, she planned to just fake a stomach bug or something equally juvenile. Her thumbs hovered over her keypad, debating on what she should send back. If anything.

Things weren’t ok. Hadn’t been in nearly a week. Since last Sunday, she’d only seen him in class Monday and Thursday.

Monday had been the worst.

Monday, December 3rd

If it hadn’t been for the fact that they were presenting their final watercolor projects, Y/N would have skipped class. She felt sick enough. Dehydrated from crying. Exhausted from a restless night of tossing and turning. Between intermittent bursts of pathetic sobbing. It was obvious that she was nothing more than a reanimated corpse. Shadowed rings under her eyes, ashen skin, and she could barely manage to stand upright. All wrapped up in an oversized cozy hoodie, and unwashed hair scooped up in a tangled knot.

“Y/N?” Ramsey’s voice tickled her ears, and she blinked, looking over at him curiously. Standing only a few students away from her, annoyance radiated from the firm grinding of his jaw. Right along with the way his mouth disappeared in a fine line within the bushy hair of his beard. He raised his equally thick eyebrows at her, pointedly gesturing to the front of the room, “I was asking if you had any thoughts on Mr. Barnes’ work.”

Embarrassed, fiery scarlet crawled across her skin, and she reluctantly looked over at Bucky. Fully acknowledging him for the first time that day. The entire class was gathered, as usual, for a critic. She hovered near the back of the crowd, arms buried in her deep front pocket, barely registering the class at all. Everything was just white noise. Like flickering static on a TV set. And Y/N just floated above it all. A specter to her own life.

Bucky was staring at her, eyes shining with hesitant curiosity. She’d not said anything about his project since he got up there. Hadn’t even reacted. Which was uncharacteristic of their relationship. Even meeting his eyes made her want to cry. Like his mere presence was crippling. It was pathetic. She averted her eyes to the painting instead, taking a step to the side so she could see past an older guy in front of her. Nails digging into her palms to distract her.

The painting was good. Emotionally moving even. It was of a group of men. Soldiers. Walking together towards the viewer. They’re all beat up, and obviously exhausted. The color pallet was limited to brown, green, white and red. The red was used sparingly, careful to not muddy it up with the green and brown. She could just make out Steve and Bucky in the painting. They were the focus, closest to the viewer, and leaning on each other. Bucky’s arm was around Steve’s shoulder, using him as a crutch. The painting was so impressionistic, that Y/N figured most people wouldn’t even recognize Bucky in the work.

Just a group of men, walking into the light with their shadows stretched out behind them. Like they’re heading towards something better. Hoping to leave the worst darkness behind them.

Bucky had vaguely mentioned it was inspired by different events he witnessed during his time at war. Men grateful to finally go home.

Suddenly aware that she’d been silent for too long again, Y/N awkwardly shrugged, “It’s beautiful. Like all of his work.” The words were stilted and cracked somewhere along the way into the air. Chin down, she shuffled her feet. Tried to ignore the eyes on her. Ignore the momentary flash of disappoint across Bucky’s face, before it was buried again. He stared away from her too, at a point on the floor a few feet in front of him. His eyes distant, and expression perfectly chiseled into nonchalance. Like he wasn’t bothered by anything at all. Lately, he hid behind a blank mask. Just shut it all down.

If only she could too.

Ramsey stared at her, surprised, and waited for her to add anything else. It was her most pathetic critic ever, and she was entirely aware. But her head and heart both hurt. And when she accidentally met Bucky’s eyes again, all she could think about was the ache chewing away inside of her.

If it didn’t stop soon, there wouldn’t be anything left inside at all.

Pressing her lips together, Y/N hit call on her phone and held it up to her ear. Her hand was sweaty, and she hugged her free arm around her ribs. Like maybe she could hold back the overwhelming sense of dread if she just squeezed hard enough. There was a string of banging, and clattering to her right just past her dividing bookshelf. Along with deep, monotone strings of buzzing conversation. But she barely heard any of it.

Just let it ring to voicemail. Please don’t pick up. Eyes shut, she bit her bottom lip hard enough to almost drop blood.

It rang three times before Bucky answered, “Hey! I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep the day away.” He chuckled, the melody to unlock her heart. The smile in his voice made her lips turn up a little, making her teeth release their abusive hold. But hers was a bittersweet sort of smile.

“If only,” She huffed and covered her other ear to block out the noise filling her apartment, “I’ve got some bad news. My landlord schedule maintenance on the leak in my kitchen. Didn’t even tell me. These guys are gonna be here all day, so we can’t meet up.” Her toes curled under her thighs, eyes drifting up towards the ceiling. With every word, she wondered if he could hear the tremor of anxiety in her voice. It was so embarrassingly obvious to her.

Of course, Y/N didn’t mention alternatives. Like the library, or even one of the studio classrooms at Orion. Because she didn’t have the heart to see him. Or the heart to disappoint him by bluntly admitting to being too weak to see him. Neither felt like an option.

Bucky was quiet for a moment, but then he offered, “We can work at my place if you want.” He sounded hesitant, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. The offer made her suck in a surprised breath and sat up straighter.

To be fair, Y/N couldn’t believe it either. She’d never been to his apartment before. Had started to think she never would. Immediately, she had a war going on inside of her. She wanted to but didn’t want to. Was so damn curious about his place, but it hurt to even be around him at this point. Wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to do him the curtsy of keeping her emotions in check. She covered her face with her hand, and curled forward, like she might hide inside of herself. Elbows on her knees, she tried to calm her mind, blocking out the sudden blast of music from someone’s phone in her kitchen. Some obnoxiously loud rock band.

As of late, she felt like a ticking timebomb. One wrong word, or touch, and her façade would rip apart. Sometimes she wanted to scream at him. Other times beg for an explanation, or just cry like a baby. Then, every other minute, she was just numb, but that didn’t make for good company either. All those emotions were just barely held back by her fingers, and she was tired. So tired.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked softly, standing up and walking over to the window in her bedroom area. Restless. She parted the thick curtains and stared up at the heavy, grey sky, “They’ll be out of here by Sunday, you could just come over then.” If he’d just agree to a reschedule, maybe she could put herself back together by Sunday. Bury it all and be the friend he wanted her to be.

An early Christmas miracle. Afterall, it was December.

Sometimes Y/N wondered, if given the option to go back. All the way back to two months ago. To the moment she asked him to be her partner, what she’d do. Would she still ask him? Honestly, she wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it would just be easier to have never met James Buchanan Barnes.

“I really don’t mind.” Bucky replied, conviction getting stronger with every syllable, “You need all the practice you can get with acrylic.” He added, and he wasn’t wrong. Y/N fiercely loathed acrylic. It was the next section of their class, now that they were done with watercolor. And it was Bucky’s favorite. Which made his help very valuable.

Biting her bottom lip, she let her forehead rest against the cold window. It was starting to snow. Thick, heavy white drops drifted down from the darkening sky. Pure crystals that blotted out the muddy streets of the city below. Y/N huffed, trying to keep the frustration out of her words, “They want me out of here till 7. I don’t want to get in the way.” She tried. It was the last excuse she could come up with. At least, without making it obvious that she was actively avoiding him.

Another beat of silence passed. Despite the harsh weather outside, throngs of people passed under her window. Finishing their work before the weekend. Rick cursed behind her and yelled at one of the guys to steady the ladder. The sound of Bucky’s voice focused her hazy mind, “I’d really like to see you today.” It was a timid, sweet admission, that made her lungs stumble. He added, “But if you don’t want to, I get it. Really.” Of course he did, because he could read her well enough to understand. Understand that she was practically a raw nerve left out in the winter wind.

Closing her eyes, she swallowed the lump in her throat, “I’ll be over in a bit.” She wanted to see him too. Because the really fucked up part about it all, was that the person who made her feel better also hurt her at the same time. A perfectly figurative double-edged sword.

“See you soon.” Bucky finished before hanging up. For a second, he sounded just as grim as she felt. With just those three words. She pressed her phone to her chest and tried to ignore the bubbling excitement at getting to see him. Because right along beside it, was a flowing tar river of dread and heartbreak. Things weren’t getting any easier like she had hoped they would over time.

Desperately, Y/N wished she could skip the heartbreak part. Skip ahead to the point where she figured out how to be Bucky’s friend. Just his friend. Figured out what was ok to do and say. To a point where she knew what crossed the boundaries he was trying to set. To a place where she wasn’t an emotional ball of knotted string.

Bucky met her at the entry way of his apartment. Soft snow clung to her hair, and she dusted it off her backpack. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he stood up from the stairwell, coming over to meet her at the door. There was a moment where his arms came up, like he was about to hug her, but then he stopped. Let them fall, and gave her a small smile, “Just got to um, get my mail really quick.”

“Ok,” Y/N replied, ignoring the disappointment that he hadn’t hugged her. It shouldn’t be surprising. Since Sunday, he’d avoided most physical contact. Didn’t stand too close to her. Didn’t touch her arm to get her attention anymore. And, of course, hadn’t hugged her since Sunday either.

If it wasn’t for his obvious attempts to spend time with her, and talk, she’d think they’d only just met again.

He turned away from her, and she shuffled away from the door. Out of the way of a couple who were coming in from the weather. A gust of air chased them in and swirls of snow swept across the stained, tiled floor. The lobby was cold, and she rubbed at her gloved fingers. Bucky clicked the lock of his box, just to the left of the door, and she watched him quickly sort through the mail. Up ahead, the staircase started, and beyond that, under the stairwell, was the landlord’s office. As well as the laundry room. The building was old and drafty. Too much brick and not a lot of windows. If she looked up, she could see the twisting of the creaking staircase up all five floors.

The woman snickered as she started up the stairs, and then squealed when her boyfriend yanked at the tail of her scarf and chased after her. Y/N could hear them laughing and the echoing of their footsteps all the way up. Until a door slammed and cut off the carrying sounds of their joy.

Bucky glanced over at her, locking it back, and held up the mail, “Just junk and bills. Shouldn’t have expected much else.” She noticed how tense he seemed. Nervous and tired under the mask of content, casual banter. It showed in the deep circles under his eyes, and the jittery way he moved his hands and held himself too straight. Not too long ago, she’d concluded that Bucky didn’t sleep much. Somehow, it seemed he was sleeping even less.

“No one writes letters anymore.” Y/N mused, trying to mimic his casual pointless chatting. She could do this, “It’s a shame.” Hands tucked in her pockets, she shrugged, and took a step closer to the stairs. Part of her was excited to see the inside of his apartment, but she had no idea how she was going to survive 7 hours of this. Pretending everything was ok.

“Damn right it is.” Bucky snorted, waving for her to follow him to the staircase. Didn’t have an elevator, so she enjoyed a three story climb up the echoing, wooden and iron stairway.

By the time they reached the third floor, Y/N was winded. Bucky hadn’t even broken a sweat. He grinned cheekily at her over his shoulder, “When it gets warmer, you should come on jogs with me.” He pulled his keys from his pants pocket and shuffled through the ring with his free hand. Distractedly glancing between the keys and her as he stopped in front of a dark wooden door. His gloved hand tapped his mail against his thigh, impatient, or just nervous.

Unimpressed, she rolled her eyes, leaning against the pale green wall next to his door, “What? You gonna drive all the way to my apartment, and drag me to Central Park?” It would take him 30 minutes alone to just drive there.

Bucky’s smile didn’t fade as he unlocked his apartment door, “Maybe. Don’t tempt me.” He swung the door open and held it for her to come inside. When she stepped past him, she made sure to keep her arms close to herself. To keep from accidentally touching him.

His apartment wasn’t what she thought it would look like, but it suited him. It was about the same size as her studio apartment but broken up with walls. From the doorway, she stood in the small pathway between the living room and kitchen. The back of a couch to her right, and a counter to her left. The living room doubled as a studio. A couch, two black beanbags, and TV stand took up half the room closest to the door. To her left stood the small kitchenette, no bigger than her own, sectioned off with a counter. A hallway opened past the kitchen, disappearing around the bend. Likely leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

Bucky was watching her observing everything. Hands propping him up against the back of the couch. Mail and glove discarded on the kitchen counter. In a soft blue sweater, and dark jeans with paint stains he was the epitome of a dreamy artist. Eyes bright against the color of the shirt, and dark strands framing his face. Dried green paint clung to his fingertips, even speckling the silver of his left hand.

After taking off her soggy boots next to his at the door, Y/N dropped her bag next to the armrest of the couch. Bypassing it to cross the far side of the room. Next to the only window in the room, stood a wide wooden desk. A tall silver lamp and bookshelf beside it. The bookshelf was overflowing, and scraps of paper littered every available space. Sketchbooks were stacked haphazardly against the wall on the floor, most too big to fit into a drawer. Drawings and notes covered every spare inch of the cream-colored wall around the window.

Quietly, she studied every drawing she could. Some she recognized. The bakery where he worked, half sketches of the street view from his apartment, Steve, animals, scenery from the park, a girl she suspected was his sister from the dimple on her chin, and even a few of herself. And more. So many more.

Distracted, she unzipped her coat, slipping it off and holding it against her chest. After a minute, Bucky cleared his throat and she jerked, he was right behind her, “These are just some I’m proud of, or ideas I haven’t finished.” He explained, standing to her right. The grey light from the window made his eyes shine molten silver, “I was thinking, maybe would watch a movie while we work?” He lifted his dark eyebrows, gaze darting over her features, and rubbed the back of his neck.

Already feeling her nerves getting the best of her, Y/N nodded and made her way back to her bag. Just wanting to keep her hands busy, she tugged out her art supplies, “Sure, what you got in mind?” First her 9x12 Bristol sketchbook, then travel set of paints, pencils, bag of brushes and eraser. She sat on the couch, flipping to the page she’d already been working on. A drawing of the Brooklyn bridge.

Bucky’s lips flickered like he wanted to smile, but didn’t quite manage it, “I was thinking a Marvel marathon?” He grabbed his own sketchpad off his desk, and two cups for rinse water. He tucked a clean paintbrush behind his ear, his sketchpad under his arm, the cups stacked in his one hand, and a few other brushes in his other. Tubes of paint were already scattered on the coffee table, along with a pallet stained with green paint.

Pencil in hand, Y/N snorted, “Don’t know if we’ve got that kinda time, but sure. I haven’t seen Captain America in a while.”

They worked without talking too much until close to 6. Only stopping to pop a frozen pizza in the oven and eat sometime around 2. Bucky on one of the bean bag chairs closer to the left side of the TV. She ended up on the floor, back against the couch, so she could spread out her paints. The hardwood floor underneath her made her butt numb, but she didn’t have to worry about being too messy. It’d clean up easier here than her carpet. Which had plenty of paint stains she’d have to pay for when she moved out.

It wasn’t as unbearable as Y/N expected it to be, but every so often she still felt a knife twist around inside her. With a constant weight on her body, pressing her down like a shadowy shroud, every action was strained. She was attempting to paint a robin on a branch. Had given up on her bridge an hour ago. Was about to give up on the bird too. The feathers were getting clumped together, and kind of starting to look like a mutant falcon of some sort. Her fine pencil lines lost in her clumsy use of a paintbrush.

“I really liked your watercolor piece.” Bucky stated, pretty much out of the blue. Y/N paused and peeked up at him for the first time in a few hours. She’d made it a point to stare at her horrible painting the entire time, and even when she needed help, she didn’t ask for it. Because she didn’t want him to be as close to her as he would need to be to help save her painting.

It took her a second to pull her mind away from her work and focus in on him and his words. Her paintbrush stilled, and she lifted it up, holding the top edges of her sketchbook. Slowly, she stretched out her legs, flexing her ankles to regain feeling in her feet. The sketchbook came to rest flat on her thighs, and she frowned. Oh ya, her painting from Monday, “Thank you.” That was all she had to say to him Monday, and that was all she could think to say to him now.

Monday, December 3

Ramsey, spurred on by spiteful annoyance at her lack of response to Bucky’s painting, made her go next. Y/N didn’t want anyone to look at her, or her work. Didn’t want to have to try and explain why she did what she did. The heart behind her painting wasn’t there anymore.

“I um love Greek mythology,” Y/N started, words immediately failing her. Flying out of her mind like wisps of smoke, “So I chose to use Aphrodite, goddess of love, as my focus. White doves are symbolic to her.” She stopped, arms crossed and leaned back against the white board. Already finished.

Everyone stared at her, waiting for her to continue, but when her silence stretched on, they finally focused on her artwork. It felt like needles were pricking at her skin. Too hot all over, and mouth dry as the summer sun.

The painting had been one of her favorites. A beautiful woman with a flowing dress, arms back holding up the tail end of it like a cape. Serene while she glided forward across the canvas. Then two doves flew right in front of her, together like they’d come directly from her heart. The ends of the dress melted down into a stream of colors and brush strokes near the bottom. Shifting into a galaxy. The doves were mostly white and surrounded by darker colors to help contrast them out.

When she’d painted it, Y/N had been thinking about love. Not just Bucky. Love in general and how scared she was to fall in love. How fickle Greek gods were, just like emotions, and prone to mistakes in many of the stories. Love and gods were both tricky things. It was fueled with so many of her emotions, all poured out onto a page.

But now, she didn’t feel anything like before. Nothing but achy longing.

“I was just wondering if I could buy it from you. After the show.” Bucky’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she met his eyes, surprised. His sketchbook was propped against his knees, a pallet of paints on the floor to his right. Brush in the cup of water, he swirled it around and wiped it clean on a stray paper towel in a practiced motion. Not even looking down when he did it. Just studying her.

“Buy it?” Y/N asked, eyebrows pinched in confusion, “Why would you want to buy it?” Iron Man played in the background, the sound of him working on his first finished suit filled up the apartment. She set aside her bird, a lost cause, to dry. Despite the paintings being awful, she’d have to turn them in Monday. Maybe after it dried, she could clean it up some.

Bucky’s mouth curved into a teasing smile, setting aside his brush, “Cause it’s awesome? And I want to hang it up?” He asked slowly in return, like he was spelling it out to a child. Elbows propped on his knees, he pushed aside his own sketchbook. From where she sat, it looked like he was painting one of his original sketches of her. From her apartment. One of the poses where she sat in her recliner, reading.

Once again, he made her beautiful. Y/N could tell that much, even from where she sat.

Blinking, she shook her head, a bit reluctant to the idea of him paying her. Especially for that piece. Which had revolved around him so tightly. Tense, she sat up straighter and rinsed out her brush. The water was just a tint away from scarlet now, “Mn I guess so, but you don’t have to buy it. You can just have it.” Water dripped dark splotches from the brush onto her jeans before she wrapped it in a stained paper towel and dried it off. Dried paint coated under her nails, and fingertips. Coating them crimson.

Immediately, Bucky scowled at her, “No, I’m going to pay you for it. I personally know how many hours you spent on that. I’m not just going to take it from you.” He gestured with his hands as he spoke, sweater rolled up to his elbows, and scratched at his jaw. There was a smudge of paint across his scruffy cheek.

Flustered, Y/N stood up with her pallet of colors and cup of dirty water. Stepping around the couch, her socked feet slid just a bit against the smooth floor, “I don’t really know what to price it at.” She stopped at his sink, picking up a few dirty breakfast dishes, and setting them out of the way. Then she started rinsing off her supplies. Water cold against her skin, but slowly warming as it ran. Soft scarlet, black, white, and green paint swirled against the silver sink, and away with the water. Fingers against the pallet she scrubbed the dried paint off, and then picked as much of the paint out from under her nails as she could.

She figured once she was cleaned up, it’d be close enough to 7 to justify her leaving. AKA bolting. Bucky followed after her with his own dirty pallet and water, “I was thinking about 100. Maybe more depending on what you’re offered at the art show.”

Sputtering, she sat aside her pallet to dry and finally meet his eyes. He was suddenly close, and she had to take a calming breath. Or else her heart might stop beating, “That’s a little much don’t you think?” He was standing at her left and tilted the faucet towards himself, so he could rinse his own materials. Arm brushing hers, she got to feel that his sweater was softer than it looked.

Bucky shook his head, and she stepped aside so he could better use the sink, “No, I bet if you price it at 100 someone will buy it.” She wiped her damp hands on a brown kitchen towel.

“Someone crazy.” Y/N grumbled, but then shrugged, “I’ll make sure Ramsey puts a ‘sold’ sticker on it for you. You don’t have to pay me till you get it, though.” There wasn’t any good reason to justify her not letting him have it. If she was being honest, she didn’t really want to keep it. It just reminded her of dark thoughts that she didn’t need to dwell on.

Bucky nodded, and glanced up. It looked like he was about to say something else, but then he frowned, “It’s really coming down out there.” His eyes were over her shoulder, focused on something across the room. Hands dripping water, he turned off the faucet and placed his supplies next to her own and dried his hands on his jeans.

Y/N turned, following his line of sight towards the window. Her heart dropped into a pit, and she quickly paced around the counter, bundling her cold fingers against the hem of her shirt. Crossing the living room, she peered out the window over his desk. It was a blanket of white outside. No cars passed through the road, and the ones parked along the side were nothing more than little white hills. Barley distinguishable. Part of her, the artistic part, wanted to draw it. Try to capture the shining white crystals contrasted with the stark grey of the buildings. Splashes of cover peeking out, about to disappear under a blanket of freshly falling snow. But that part of her was background noise to the roaring anxiety that made her grit of teeth.

“Shit.” She groaned, racking a hand through her hair. Hadn’t even noticed that it was snowing so hard because she was too busy not looking anywhere but at her artwork. It was quiet too. That sort of peaceful silence that came from the snow dulling out noises.

Back over at the couch, she picked her phone off the cushion and sat down to investigate. Darcy had messaged her, sending a selfie of her snuggled up with a cup of something steaming, and the caption ‘Snow days rock!’. A little later after that, Peter had let her know that he was super bummed because Mr. Stark made him leave work early.

Her weather app had issued a ‘winter weather warning’. High freezing winds, lots of snow, and lots of ice. Y/N carefully shut her sketchbook, the paint barely dry but she didn’t have the time too care. Then began gathering up her stuff, “I better get going. Before the roads get any worse.” Before she got stuck there. Hastily, she unzipped her bag and stuffed everything back inside. Then hurried to the kitchen, snatching her damp pallet off the counter.

Bucky stood by the window, watching it come down, and turned back to look at her, perplexed, “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” His arms were crossed, fists fight against his shirt. Lips in a fine line, he kept glancing between her and outside.

Y/N snorted a very thin, awkward laugh, putting her tubes of paint in her bag, “What’s the alternative? Stay here?” Her heart skipped at the thought. It was ridiculous. No, she couldn’t do that. For her sake and his, it would be better if she went home.

“Well ya, I mean, you could.” Bucky shrugged, taking a couple steps away from the window. Arms still crossed, and shoulders tense near his ears. It was obvious he didn’t seem to like the idea either, and that only made her feel worse. Guilty, and uncomfortable.

She shook her head, “No, I can get a cab. They drive in all kinds of weather.” The weather app had said to stay off the roads and inside if at all possible. It was getting dark. Earlier than normal due to the heavy clouds blotting out the sun. But Y/N couldn’t imagine staying the night after this week.

Maybe last week it would have been a fantasy come true. Like in some stupid romcom, but now? After Sunday? It was a fully-grown monster of an awkward, awful idea. Complete with horns and a snake tongue.

At the door, she slipped on her shoes and zipped up her coat. Bucky grabbed her arm just as she was reaching for the doorknob, “Stay.” He stated, quietly, but seriously.

She glanced up at him, swallowing the lump in her throat the formed from being able to smell his cologne, “I can’t.” Y/N was surprised at how vulnerable her voice was. She hadn’t meant to sound like that. It was supposed to be stronger than that. More resolute. Jerking, she pulled her arm from his grip and shook her head again when he opened his mouth to argue. Hand on the doorknob, she opened the door and stepped into the hall. It was even colder now, and the dim lights overhead flickered, buzzing. Even colder without Bucky’s hand on her arm.

Only just making it to the stairs, Bucky caught the strap of her backpack. Y/N whirled around on him, “I can’t stay here.” She repeated, managing to be just a bit firmer this time. Not even flinching, he took another step closer to her. Her hands trembled slightly as anxiety started to pour into her veins, clawing at her head.

Cautiously, Bucky guided her heavy bag down. Taking it off her, and she found herself letting him. The way he stared unwaveringly at her, as if seeing the dark tidepool of emotions behind her eyes, made her face grow hot with bit back tears. He shouldered it, and placed a hand on her arm, “You can.” He took a breath, closing his eyes as if to gather his thoughts then continued, “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you out there.” Bucky squeezed her arm and then stepped away, giving her space back.

“But it’s,” Y/N’s breath hitched, panic making her stomach feel sick. The cold bit at her fingertips and her hands balled into fists. Nervously shaking her head, she tried to swallow all the wrong words and find the right ones to explain herself, “It’ll be so awkward after—”

“It’ll be ok.” Bucky assured, giving a light smile. It reached his eyes, making them shine with tender light, “We’ll just watch movies and have fun. I’ll even make you dinner.” Slowly, he took another step back, edging closer to his apartment door. A hopeful expression making his handsome face soft, and sweet.

It didn’t take much for her resolve to crack. Too exhausted and strung out to even put up a real fight. She let out a shuddering breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding in, “I can take the couch then.” With that, Y/N stepped past him and retreated into his apartment. Taking off her boots again, she cursed the weather. Cursed winter. Cursed her landlord. Cursed everything that led her into this position.

Bucky shook his head, going back into the kitchen. Her bag made a solid thunk against the countertop when he plopped it down, “No way, you can take my bed. It’s fine.” She wanted to argue some more but then he was opening the fridge, changing the subject, “I was thinking tacos?” Bucky offered, and she unzipped her coat, throwing it over the back of the couch.

Leaning against the counter, she watched him pull out a thawed pound of hamburger. Then shrugged, “Works for me. Guess this means you’re finally going to cook for me.” She couldn’t help the small upturn of her lips. Every time they were at her house, they usually ordered takeout. There were a few rare times where she made easy stuff. Like hamburgers, mac-n-cheese, or stir-fry. But not all that often. Whenever they first started working together, Bucky never stayed long enough to need food. Once they did start eating together, Y/N didn’t feel like she had enough skill to even try and fix anything for him. It was only recently that she got comfortable enough to try.

“You are a guest, and it is dinner time.” Bucky waved a spatula at her, flicking on his stove. A light blue flame burst to life under the burner. Once the hamburger was in the pan, he used his spatula to divide it into chunks, starting to cook it.

“Anything you want me to do?” She asked, and Bucky shook his head.

“Nah, why don’t you go finish the movie? I’ve got it.” He waved his free hand towards the living room. Then he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, rummaging through some of his cupboards near the stove.

Nodding, Y/N left him in peace. Somewhat relieved that she didn’t have to try and carry conversation. It was getting easier to ignore. The awkwardness fading back just a bit, but it still couldn’t be considered comfortable.

After dinner, which was delicious, Bucky disappeared with their plates. Y/N relaxed down into the couch, pleasantly full, and continued watching the Incredible Hulk. Since she was staying the night, they might actually make a dent in the Marvel franchise.

Bucky returned with a bottle of scotch and two glasses with ice. He set them down on the table in front of her and she eyed him, eyebrows raised in a silent question. He snorted, lifting the amber and black bottle closer for her to see, “Just thought you might want a drink.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” She asked skeptically but didn’t deny it. She wasn’t much of an alcohol person, even less of a scotch person, but a buzz did sound tempting. Y/N was a happy drunk. The giggly kind, and she liked how it made her feel. As long as she didn’t get too sad. If she got too emotional, then it didn’t go well.

Bucky poured himself a glass, and tipped the bottle towards her own, waiting for the go ahead. Huffing a sigh, she waved her hand towards him. He smirked and filled up her glass, “I don’t want you to get drunk. We’ve just never drank together. Thought it might be fun. A buzz and Marvel movies could be a good mix.” Then he screwed the lid shut and sat the bottle on the table, taking up his drink. Fluidly, Bucky moved back over to his seat on the beanbag, dropping down heavily. Not spilling a single drop.

She picked up her glass, stirring the ice with her finger to try and thin out some of the scotch, “Never been to your apartment either.” She quietly mused, crossing her legs up under her thighs. His apartment ran warmer than her own, but her feet were chilly even in her socks.

“Guess tonight’s just full of firsts.” Bucky agreed, sipping on his drink. They were sitting further apart tonight. Further apart than they had in a while. It made her heart heavy, so she took a drink as well. Bucky didn’t even flinch, and she full on grimaced.

“God it’s awful.” She laughed, shaking her head, lips smacking to chase the flavor away. It made her tongue feel dry and bitter.

Chuckling he took another drink and hummed, “It’s an acquired taste.” His eyes danced with mirth in the dim lighting of the living room, a smirk made his mouth tilt in a sinfully charming sort of way. She had to look away, back down to the melting ice in her glass.

“I think you mean that you drink enough until your tongue goes numb and then it’s not so bad.” Y/N translated, taking another mouthful, and flinching again. It burned all the way down to her stomach. Nose wrinkled, she blinked as her eyes began to water, but she tried to school her expression. Not liking that she could hear Bucky trying to stifle his laughter.

“Try not to let it hit your tongue so much. Come on, haven’t you taken shots before?” Bucky teased, eyes flickering from the TV back over to her. The light made his jaw sharper and caught streaks of his hair, making them almost blue. From her position on the couch, she could still see snow coming down through the window across the room. It glowed like fluttering glitter past the streetlamps. Not slowing at all.

She nodded, focusing back on Bucky, “Ya, some but I always had a chaser.” Her skin was already feeling honey glow warm. A little tingly. It was good scotch. Bucky hummed, the sound of the movie filled up the empty space between them. At least, it was empty if you ignored all the things left unsaid.

Over the next hour, Y/N finished her first glass, and poured herself another. Right alongside Bucky, who refilled his glass a few minutes before her. By then, she could tell she was tipsy. Giggling at some of the terrible humor in the movie, and really at anything at all. Until she found herself watching Bucky more than the movie. If he noticed, he didn’t say so.

By the time her body started to feel flickering warm all over, Y/N didn’t have a clue what was happening in the movie anymore. It was nearing the end, and the apartment was faintly lit from the kitchen. Mostly flooded with the light from the TV. It reminded her of their situation a week before, but she didn’t want to think about that. In fact, she wanted to focus on another problem at hand.

Standing up, Y/N felt her head swim just a bit, but she managed to walk perfectly fine. She wasn’t that far gone. Just the kind of buzz that gave a false sense of bravery, and horrible impulse control. Right then, she couldn’t understand why they were sitting so far apart. So, she closed the few short steps between them and plunked herself down on the second beanbag chair next to Bucky’s. His eyes widened, and he stared at her, snorting a laugh when she grinned cheekily at him. Then she wiggled in the seat until she was comfortable and leaned over to let her head rest on his right shoulder. All without saying a single word and took another sip of her half full drink. It didn’t taste bad anymore.

A few beats of silence passed, and she tried to focus back in on the movie, rather than the obvious fluttering of her heart. From her position, she could feel the strong muscle resting just under the sweater. Bucky finally shook his head in disbelief, the beads rustled as he relaxed back into his own chair, and asked, “Comfy?”

Y/N hummed and nodded, nuzzling against his arm because god he smelt good. And damn if he wasn’t cozy and perfect. Her hand curled loosely against his sweater, thumb rubbing the soft material. Knees up on the beanbag, and her body contorted into a small ball.

When she didn’t offer a verbal reply, Bucky didn’t push. Instead, he shifted his arm until it was wrapped around her shoulders, forcing her closer. Head on his chest, Y/N laughed again at the awkward adjusting she had to do to get comfortable again. Shift till she was halfway on his beanbag and hers. Legs stretched out further to balance, and her hand holding her glass rested up on his waist, other tucked underneath her to stay propped up. His arm around her shoulders, and other hand still holding his own scotch on his thigh. But then everything was flawless. And she didn’t want to ever have to move again.

“Why don’t we do this all the time?” Y/N asked playfully, fingers rubbing nonsensical circles against her glass. She could feel every breath he took, and faintly hear the beat of his heart under her ear. He was so warm and strong underneath her. It was comforting. The credits of the movie were starting to play, and she loathed the thought of one of them getting up to put in another.

Bucky tensed, but didn’t move. He rubbed his thumb against her bare arm. Sometimes it felt like everything he did was the most natural thing in the world to do. Like their relationship had reached a point where it should have been as easy as breathing. If he would just let it. Then he shrugged, the motion jostled her just a little, “I guess cause it’s not really what friends are supposed to do.” Words mumbled and stilted. Awkward. He wouldn’t look at her when he said that, just stared down at the cup in his hand. Metal contrasting against fragile glass. Both glinting in the harsh light from the TV.

Before he could pull back, she caught his wrist and sat up to meet his eyes. Her hand kept his arm around her shoulders, and she only adjusted herself just enough to look at him properly. Their faces were dangerously close, but she barely noticed, “But we do it, and we’re friends, so it can’t be too bad.” Her voice was soft, insistent. Eyes betraying the sadness welling up deep inside of her. It felt like the burning in her stomach was heading up into her throat. His skin was smooth against her fingers, and his arm was a reassuring weight over her shoulders. Bucky made her feel safe. Even when he was breaking her heart.

Bucky whispered her name like she was squeezing the life from his chest and sighed harshly. His eyes darted away from her own, lips pressed into a fine line, “Ya but it’s wrong, and makes things complicated.” He closed his eyes and tapped his finger against his glass, the sound sharp over the TV. She could already see his walls closing, shutting her out again.

“It doesn’t have to.” Y/N shook her head, clasping his hand tighter to try and keep his attention. His callused fingers were rough against her own, and she could see his chest rising and falling faster. Like he was trying to keep himself calm. Still, she pushed, “If it makes you happy, and me happy, and doesn’t hurt anyone, then why is it so wrong?” She spoke quickly, and her voice was starting to slur just a tad. Like her mouth was running faster than her head. The hand holding her drink gripped it tighter. Condensation making her fingers slick. Head tilted, she tried to make him look at her. Suddenly desperate to make him understand.

At that, Bucky did tug away. Stood up and moved a few steps over to the other side of the coffee table. He picked up the bottle of scotch and refilled his drink. Again. His hands were shaking just a tad, and he slowly put the lid back on and sat the bottle down. Then he waved his glass in the air as he tried to explain, nearly sloshing it over the edge, “Because it can’t happen. And that—” He jabbed a finger at the beanbag chair he just vacated, like it was an example, “Will lead to things happening, and nothing can happen between us.” He pointed between the two of them, face flushed, and took another drink. Eyes sharp and glistening, his hair fell across his forehead as he swallowed. Then he carded his fingers roughly through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He sounded so sure. So stubborn and it just pissed her off.

“Does this make you happy?” Y/N stressed, gesturing between them. She stood up too, stumbling a little when her feet caught on air. Still, she steadied herself, head high, and finished her drink. When he didn’t respond, she sat her empty glass down on the coffee table a bit harder than necessary. It echoed over the music filling up the room with background noise. When had they started arguing?

Frustrated, Bucky groaned and turned so he wasn’t facing her. He shifted his glass to his right hand, knuckles white. Delaying time, he swallowed another mouthful, quiet. His shoulders were tight, the muscles rolling as he clenched his fist. When he glanced back at her, his face was blank again.

Seeing his emotional barricades up again made irritation burn the back of her throat like hot coals.

A whine caught in her chest, and she shut her eyes tight. The anger melted into something darker. Something harder to swallow that had her arms wrapping around herself, and made her shift awkwardly from foot to foot, “Don’t I?” Her tone dropped at his silence, vulnerable and nearly drowned out by the end credits music. Hurt at him shutting down again. Shutting her out again, “Make you happy?” Y/N clarified. Emotions switching on a dime as she stared at his broad back.

The TV cut out to the title page, and he turned, snatching the remote off the table and flicked it off. Then tossed it back onto the table, only for it to clash and skitter off the edge onto the floor. Shadows clung to the room, only pushed back by the small light from the kitchen and window behind her. Then silence pressed in on the room and highlighted all the words not being spoken. Ears ringing in the sudden quiet, Y/N tried to keep her breathing even and to stay quiet. Let him boil in whatever emotions were making him pace between the couch and wall.

In the cluttered space of his apartment, she felt small because he took up so much of it. When he got like this, she could see the soldier. Could see everything he tried to keep in control burning just beneath the surface. All the things he tried to never say. The panels of his left hand hummed and shifted, flexing into a fist and relaxing again when he finally stood still.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he brought up his hand to rub at his face, messing up his hair. When he glanced back at her, he grimaced, and exclaimed, “Of course you do!” His eyes were shining bright in the dark, glimmering with bit back pain. Eyebrows pinched and jaw tight, like he was fighting to keep everything in check. Even every perfectly measured breath he took.

“Just not enough?” Y/N asked, still soft and stepped closer. She reached down for the bottle, eyes never falling from his cooled expression, body swaying in a fluid motion as she stood back up. Bucky silently watched her as she unscrewed the top and watched him. Forgoing a glass, she took a drink from it. The edges of the cap bit at her fingers. Desperate to feel anything but what she was feeling right then. Maybe it’d numb her the rest of the way out. Make her pass out, or black out to a point where things just didn’t hurt anymore. With the way things were going it might be nice.

It’d be a blessing. Even for a minute.

“It’s not like that.” Bucky denied, words cracking in his throat at the end. Y/N edged just a bit closer, until they were chest to chest. The bottle brushed against his thigh where she let it swing at her side. She had to stare up to meet his eyes. He finished the last drink from his glass, then stooped to sit his down too. Every movement tickled the air around him and made her skin tingle from how close they were. His shoulder brushed her hip when he straightened back up. Then his hand cupped over her own and he took the bottle from her loose fingers. Forging his glass as well. His touch still burned. He didn’t offer to clarify what he meant. That it ‘wasn’t like that’ didn’t explain much of anything.

Instead of rounding another pointless circle with him, Y/N asked, “Why do you want my painting?” She crossed her empty arms, rocking back on her heels, but not moving from her stubborn position in front of him. Not yielding again. The scotch made her stupid brave, and she was cracking up. The façade she tried to keep up falling apart piece by piece. Part of her understood that this conversation would lead to nowhere good.

That she was tearing everything apart. Messing everything up. Spilling all their rotting issues out between them. Ripping up her heart for him to see as she desperately tried to understand his. But she couldn’t bring herself to shut up again. Too angry and hurt and frustrated and tired.

This had been a bad idea from the start. She should have just stayed in bed this morning.

That jarred him a bit. Bucky snorted incredulously, “Because it’s beautiful, and I love your work.” His full lips wrapped around the bottle and he took a swig. Rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand, he let out a slow breath. Disheveled, he dropped the bottle back on the table, almost spilling it. The cap still bit at her thumb where she pressed at it. Flipped it around between her fingers. Something to fidget with.

“Do you know why I painted it?” Y/N continued, licking her lips, mouth full of cotton. She rocked back forward, nearly toppling into him, but he caught her shoulders. Steadying her and almost smiling, but it died before it could reach his eyes. Her hands came up to balance herself and she dropped the cap to the floor. It clattered, but neither of them bothered to try and pick it up, “Why I picked the subject?” Her fingers curled against his chest, enjoying the touch and slow to pull back.

Bucky shrugged, shaking his head, hands running down her arms to her elbows before he released her, “You were pretty cryptic about it in class.” He took a half step back, but she caught the hem of his shirt, and stubbornly held onto it. Stopping, he glanced down at her hand, but didn’t force her to let go.

Willing her fuzzy mind to focus, she explained, “It’s about love.” She pressed a free hand to her chest, hysterical laughter bubbling from her as she continued, “It’s basically my heart poured on a canvas.” Y/N tugged at his sweater, voice cracking at the end. Jaw clenched like she could keep her words from shaking, she stepped forward challengingly, “Still want it?” Her bottom lip trembled, but she kept her head high and proud.

Bucky’s voice dropped and sounded rough like gravel when he replied, “Of course.” His eyes held her own, and she ground her teeth, exasperated. Nearly stepped on his toes when she let go of his shirt and threw up her hands, catching her fingers in her hair, yanking roughly.

“I was thinking about you.” Y/N whispered, flinging her hand in his direction, nearly hitting him, “Not just you, but enough. Doesn’t that bother you?” Bucky was quiet, so she continued, shaking her head as the words tumbled out, “It’s about how scared I am. To care about you this much. About how messed up these feelings are, and how happy I was.” The tears were coming now. All the ones she never wanted him to see. They caught in a knot in her throat, making her words thick. Her cheeks were wet, and she didn’t know when she started crying, “And I couldn’t explain it in class because I don’t feel that way anymore. It just hurts.” Her hand curled in the front of her shirt and she clawed at it, like maybe she could just dig out her beating heart and give that to him too, “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, but I don’t know what to—”

The words were stolen from her lips. Immediately forgotten. Taken the moment she felt his breath against her mouth, and then nothing but soft warmth. His hands caught her wrists from where she’d been wildly gesturing, and he stilled her. Cold metal and warmth contrasting against her skin. He tugged her forward, arms caught between their chests, and his hair tickled her cheek when he stooped down. So much taller than her that he had to duck his head.

Bucky was kissing her.

Y/N’s eyes fell closed, and her lips parted against his. Everything floated still around her. His hand released her wrist, and cold metal cupped her cheek. Confused, she pushed her hands against his chest, pulling back just an inch, “Why? What—” Then he tilted his head and kissed her again. His teeth nipped her bottom lip and he crowded against her. A soft groan caught in her throat, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching up on her tiptoes to be closer. Questions buzzed through her head, but her world was spinning too fast. Everything suddenly felt warm and happy with him anchoring her to the apartment floor. In that moment, she couldn’t imagine to trying to ask him again. Not while he was finally kissing her.

Bucky shuddered when her tongue brushed his top lip, and his fingers curled gently in her hair. Leaving her no room to move away again. For just a second, he broke the kiss, and let his hands rest against her shoulders, thumbs brushing across her neck. He kissed her forehead, and then her cheek, tongue lightly brushing against the tears still damp on her skin. A soft bubbling giggle left her. Relief mixed with euphoria and disbelief left her insides sparkling like liquid gold.

Nearly floating, Y/N fisted her hands in the back of his shirt against his shoulders. Then took a step back, making him follow her. Still bent over but his hands came to rest against her hips. A tender smile spread across Bucky’s lips while a grin made her beam back at him. Every step she took he matched. Never more than an inch apart. A breath of laughter escaped him when she stumbled, nearly taking him down with her.

When she sat on the couch, he pressed her back until he was hovering over her and kissed her again. It’d been a long while since she had a make-out session like a desperate teenager, but everything fell into place with him. It wasn’t hard to remember why she loved kissing.

Not when she was kissing Bucky.

Next Chapter

Tags: @boy-leave @wtfholland

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #artist au #slow burn #Fluff and angst #fluff and feels #tashariiwriting

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