#and now i can’t go back to my youth youth and change things and that DESTROYS me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pretentious-blonde · 4 months ago

Text

yours

pairing: remus x reader

summary: after inviting remus's oldest friends to dinner to introduce his new girlfriend, a secret slips that could alter their entire relationship

warning: alcohol

a/n: it is my second fic as the first one seemed to go over well. also this was supposed to be just a happy dinner but I got carried away :)

The kitchen filled with the smell of sauteed garlic and onions, the sound of pots gently simmering on the stove as Remus bustled about, trying to prepare for the evening ahead. The soft, golden light of the afternoon sun was pouring in from the window as it helped illuminate the room. He was dressed the same way he always was, casual but put together, a simple beige jumper and his well-worn jeans. He rolled up his sleeves once more as they kept falling down his long arms, and pushed his glasses back into place so he could get a better look at the task at hand.

Despite his outward appearance, there was a certain stress that was palpable radiating off him. His eyes kept flicking to the watch on his wrist whenever he had to stir the pot on the stove, awaiting the arrival of his childhood friends.

You entered the kitchen behind him, now changed out of your pyjamas from that morning, you joined your boyfriend as he moved around the kitchen with practised ease. He flicked his hair back from his face with a sharp movement and you could feel the nerves he was trying to ignore, feeling the flutter of your own heart at the excitement of meeting his two closest friends.

“Rem, you need to sit down for a moment?” You ask with a chuckle as you place your hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to wear yourself out before they even get here.”

He glanced up from the stove, relaxing slightly as he took you in.

“You look beautiful, darling,” he said with a small smile. He gently kissed the side of your face before turning his attention back to dinner. “Just want everything to be perfect. Like you.”

You playfully tap his shoulder with a grin. “It will be,” you reassure him, squeezing the top of his arms. “I’m sure I’ll love them.”

The brown-haired boy let out a soft smile and shook his head. “They can be quite…boisterous,” he tells you after a little thought. “Don’t take anything that comes out of their mouths too seriously.”

You raise an eyebrow and lean against the counter, crossing your arms with a teasing smile. “Boisterous huh?” You smile at his wording as he frowns, cheeks spattering with red. “I’m sure I can handle that. Besides, if they’re anything like you, I might even enjoy it.”

He laughed at your confidence but he still had a hint of concern, he knew the two well. Very well. Their personalities were huge, and to the wrong person, it could really rub them the wrong way. “Well, I warned you. James is going to start with something juvenile about settling down, and Sirius—“

“—will probably give me all of the details about how you used to be a notorious prankster in your youth?” You completed his sentence with a smirk on your lips. “I can handle that easily, I’ve dealt with worse. Remember the time I accidentally stood on Flitch’s cat in front of him? I survived that…sort of.”

He laughed, a deep warm sound that flooded into the room, it never failed to make your chest feel warm. “Alright, alright. I guess you can survive anything then, dove.”

You gave him a playful wink. “Precisely. Now, why don’t you sit down and let me finish up in here. I swear I will not burn anything.”

He reluctantly strode over to the chair, pulling it back as he relaxed into it, watching you work in his absence. “You have my full trust. Just one thing ok?”

“What is it?” You ask, your eyes sparkling in the dim light, he can’t help but admire the sight of you. All dressed up pretty for this evening. All this effort for his sake.

“If they get too much, tell them to piss off. They can handle it.” He tells you are he rests his chin on his hand, his lovesick expression completely covering his previous stressed one.

You shake your head at him. “Stop worrying, I’ve got it covered,” you grin at him. “Just enjoy the fact you have having dinner with your best friends, please?”

The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door that echoed through the flat, followed by muffled chatter. Remus leapt up and gave you a quick kiss to your temple before he made his way down the stairs to let them up. You smiled as you heard your boyfriend’s voice greeting your guests, the conversation was muted but grew louder as they made their way inside.

“Domestic life certainly suits you,” a voice called out, filled with playful disbelief.

“Gonna need the secret,” another chimed in, the tone equally light and teasing as the first. “Is it a charm? Potion perhaps? Is that how you got her to say yes?”

You hear a thunk and suppress a giggle, Remus had probably tapped one of them to shut them up. “It’s called ‘being patient’, you heard of it?” He asks sarcastically. “Behave, otherwise you are being kicked out the way you came.”

Only a few moments later, two men appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, their eyes glowing as they took in the sight of you and smiles growing even wider. The one with glasses, James you presume from the conversations you have had previously, was the first to speak.

“Well, well, well,” He began, entering the space. “Looks like Remus is a lucky guy. I’m James.”

He holds out a hand for you to shake, which you do with pleasure. “Lovely to meet you.”

The darker-haired man followed, his expression playful. “I agree with James here, you sure you didn’t use any spells here Moony?”

You lock eyes with Remus and look at him puzzled, he had never mentioned that nickname before and looked flushed. Oh, you were so going to enjoy finding out more of what your sweet boyfriend had kept from you, and you were going to love every second of it.

You shook Sirius’s hand and matched both boy’s expressions with a confident smile. “I’m afraid there was no magic involved,” you told them with a small chuckle. “Pure luck and fate.”

Remus rolled his eyes but his heart swelled with your admission. “Okay, okay, enough,” he placed a hand on each boy’s shoulder, ushering them to the dining table. “Darling, why don’t you go sit at the table? I can handle the rest.”

You nodded at him, not noticing James and Sirius sharing the same look as the pet name fell from their friend’s lips. You sit down at the table, which is still in the kitchen thank god, you were happy that Remus was still in the room and hadn’t left you to fend for yourself.

James and Sirius took their seats opposite you, glancing at your boyfriend with overdramatic smiles. “Settle down,” he said, his parental attitude had you stifling a laugh. “I hope you’re both hungry.”

“Starved,” James said dramatically whilst placing his hand on his stomach. “You have outdone yourself here Moony. Where have you been hiding your culinary skills all this time.”

It was Sirius’s turn to speak. “Yeah, I always thought you were more of a ‘charred toast’ kind of guy.”

You rolled your eyes at their antics. “It was a joint effort,” you pipe up. “I like to think of Remus as my trusted sous-chef.”

“Sous-chef?” James’s expression feigned surprise. “I didn’t know you had culinary ambitions, Remus.”

The man hovering over dinner scoffed. “I shall have you know I am very skilled with a spatula,” he waved it in front of him to emphasise his words. “Just don’t ask me to make a soufflé any time soon.”

Sirius laughed and leaned back in his chair, clearly feeling well at home. “So, what’s on the menu tonight, chef?”

“Ratatouille and herb potatoes,” you tell them. “Remus’s choice, he has been asking for it all week.”

“Sounds French so it must be fancy,” Sirius says with a more serious tone, making you giggle. “I shall see if it lives up to your praise.”

Remus made his way over from the kitchen counter, oven mits on as he delivered the steaming hot food to the table. He removes the gloves from his hands and throws them absentmindedly on the table next to him as he takes his seat next to you. He gave you a reassuring nod as he tugged his chair in, brushing his leg against your own, perhaps an accident but still the action made your heart soar.

“It looks lovely sweetheart,” he tells you softly, his eyes shining with nothing but adoration, looking proud, finally able to show you off to his friends. They both shared another glance as they witnessed the interaction.

“Well, Moony,” James said with a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Never would have pegged you for such a sap. It’s…nice.”

Sirius chimes in next. “You’re practically glowing mate, all loved up.”

His cheeks reddened slightly but his expression never faltered. “You are just jealous because you are the last bachelor,” he smugly replies.

You playfully nudge his shoulder before turning your attention back to the boys. “So, I’ve only heard bits and pieces from your time at Hogwarts. Care to share any stories Remus may have been keeping from me?”

A spark appeared behind James’s eyes, clearly ready to divulge precious information. “Oh, where do we even begin? What about the food fight in The Great Hall? Or the time we charmed the sorting hat to only speak Swahili during the sorting ceremony?”

Sirius barked out a laugh as the memories came flooding back to him. “And don’t forget the time we made everyone's hair turn red for the Quidditch house cup! That left everyone pissed for weeks!”

The boy next to you couldn’t hide the embarrassment on his face as he shifted in his seat. “Yeah, well…I didn’t really have a say in these schemes. I was just dragged along for the ride.”

You laughed gently, leaning into his side as to reassure him, trying to ease his mortification. “Oh, I bet you had a lot of fun, though. Sounds like you relished making mischief.”

He blew a large puff of air out of his lungs, amusement gracing his features. “I do admit, it was fun. But only because I was with these idiots.” He gave the two boys sitting opposite an affectionate, albeit exasperated look. “It got me out of my shell, that’s for sure.”

James lifts his glass as if making a toast. “To our precious Moony, then. For not only surviving our escapades but apparently, also surviving us.”

Sirius nodded along before raising his own glass. “And to his lovely girlfriend, for entertaining him in our absence. We are eternally grateful for your sacrifice.”

You laughed wholeheartedly at their words before looking over at Remus. He was entirely fixated on you, his eyes filled with the familiar warmth they always have when directed at you. “I’m flattered,” you say teasingly. “Glad to see my sacrifice has been acknowledged.”

You felt a gentle hand rest on your leg under the table, Remus’s gaze never leaving yours. “Thank you, darling.”

It was now your turn to blush, feeling a wave of fondness rush through you. The dinner flowed smoothly, with the boys speaking over one another in their attempts to relive their past misadventures. Remus’s hand never left your thigh, even when he waved an accusatory finger at Sirius trying to blame him for some previous mishap in a prank long ago. You rested your palm over his own, intertwining with his, letting him know you were right there with him, even among the raucous that was ensuing at the table.

Sirius, clearly merry on one too many glasses of wine, leaned back in the chair with a tipsy grin. “You know,” he began, his body now turned to face your own. “It’s really something the way you handle our Remus. Not everyone can manage his…unique schedule.”

You paused just before you were about to take another bite, the words hanging in the air, fork hovering above your plate. You turned your attention to Remus next to you and his expression made your nerves spike. His face was pale. Too pale. Like all of the blood had been drained from him. His eyes were locked on Sirius, who seemed oblivious to your boyfriend’s clear horror.

You placed your utensils down and frowned, confusion swirled around in your head. “Unique schedule?” You echoed his words, trying to make sense of Sirius’s previous comment. “What do you mean?”

Remus’s knuckles were turning a shade of white as he gripped the table, trying to keep his composure before clearing his throat awkwardly. “Sirius,” he said, but the strain in his voice was noticeable.

James picked up on what was happening and kicked the man next to him under the table. “Mate, I think you’ve had enough,” his laugh is fake as he taps the side of Sirius’s now empty glass. The action does nothing to lessen your clear confusion. You glance up at Remus as if to ask for an explanation.

“It’s nothing, dove,” he said, clearly trying to regain his composure. “Just an inside joke.”

Sirius and Remus share a quick glance, the darker-haired boy holds his hands up in mock surrender and begins to speak again. “Alright, new topic. Did we tell you about the time the Lily finally pranked James for the first time? If you thought he was head over heels before, nothing would have prepared you for how he acted after that.”

You shook your head and urged him to carry on, but you couldn’t help the seed of doubt that had just been planted in your mind. Questions buzzed around in your head and the fact that your boyfriend’s leg would not stop bouncing next to yours did little to calm you down. He was silent as Sirius dove into his story, not even smiling at the jokes he was sneaking into the tale. He just felt…frozen. As if all the joy had been sucked out of him in that moment. You weren’t sure if you even wanted to bring this up later.

The rest of the evening proceeded with a renewed focus on lighter topics, but the shadow of Sirius’s comment lingered in the air, adding a layer of tension to the otherwise warm and affectionate atmosphere.

After the plates had been cleared away, James and Sirius insisted on doing the washing up for the two of you. What would have been a thoughtful gesture was clouded as Remus refused to look in your direction for more than a few seconds. It was clear that whatever was brought up this evening had rattled him. He was scared.

The evening came to an end with James and Sirius gathering their things, still cracking light jokes about Remus and his new girlfriend, though the air was notably tenser than it had been earlier. Remus’s smile was tight as you both walked them downstairs and to the door.

Sirius lingered slightly behind, now looking a little bit more subdued, his earlier drunken state had mellowed out as he pulled Remus in for a quiet apology, one only he could hear. “I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t mean to—I thought—”

Remus just nodded solemnly, already dreading what might occur once the two of you were left alone. His jaw was clenched as he reached over to open the door, avoiding his friend’s eyes. “Get home safe, Pads,” he said with defeat, voice hoarse with emotion.

James offered you a warm smile as he passed you by, his face softer as he spoke to you seriously for the first time that evening. “It was great meeting you, I have to introduce you to Lily sometime,” he glanced over at Remus, his posture still stiff. “Take care of him for us, yeah?”

“Of course,” you replied earnestly, but when you looked over at the tall man next to you, he seemed completely detached from what was transpiring around him.

When the door clicked shut, the silence that followed was unbearable. He was the first one to move, climbing up the stairs back to your flat, waiting for you to follow. You both stood frozen in the kitchen, waiting for the inevitable conversation to start. He was rigid, his mind going a hundred miles an hour.

This is what he had been dreading, you finding out. There was no doubt in his mind. If he told you the truth, you would leave. You would shove all of your things in a bag and just leave. The only reminder that you were once here would be the toothbrush left in the bathroom which he would stare at in the morning when he inevitably got up. Taunting him about what he could have had.

You could feel the pressure in the room increase, and as much as you didn’t want to bring it up, you knew that there was no other choice if you wanted to get answers. You couldn’t live with the doubt you felt after seeing his reaction. Not when it seemed this important.

“Rem, what was Sirius talking about?” You ask cautiously, not wanting to scare him more than he already was.

His back stiffened even more at the question, he turned slowly to face you, his expression failing to mask the panic underneath it.

“It’s nothing,” he spoke too fast, too quickly, his words sharp and defensive. “He was just… drunk. You misheard.”

You frowned, trying hard not to feel hurt by the clear lie and dismissive tone. “No, I didn’t. What did he mean by ‘unique schedule’? Please, do not lie to me.”

“I’m not,” he said sharply, harsh tone making it hard not to flinch away. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his knuckles changing colour as he tried to keep his emotions from leaking out. “Just drop it.”

“Why are you being like this?” You pressed, your question valid. He had never acted this way before. Ever. He was always so open with you, even down to the most mundane things. This was the same boy who answered your every question, every query. Were all those answers just lies as well? “I just want to understand.”

But the poor boy couldn’t even look at you, couldn’t meet your gaze as he knew the expression you would be wearing. The one that would break him completely, especially with the knowledge that he made you feel that way. The fear inside him began bubbling over, his ribs tightened and his breath quickened, chest rising and falling rapidly as the facade he wore so well started to unravel. He shook his head and began to pace, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I can’t—“ his voice cracked painfully. “You don’t understand—I can’t lose you.”

The words caught you off guard, they were not the ones you expected. “Lose me? Remus, you are not going to lose me.”

“You don’t get it!” He suddenly burst out, voice ragged and raw. His breathing was erratic now, on the verge of hyperventilating and it took everything in your power not to reach out and touch him. Hold him. Tell him everything is going to be okay. “If you knew—if you knew what I am—you’d leave. You’d be gone, just like everyone else. And the worst part is I wouldn’t even blame you.”

You watched as the man you love completely shattered in front of you. His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he ran them over his face, a weak attempt to hide the tears that were already forming in his eyes. His breathing was shallow as if he was fighting against an invisible force trying to suffocate him.

“Remus,” you whispered gently, taking a step towards him, but he jerked backwards, scared of you touching him. He spoke, his voice was filled with anguish.

“I’m a monster,” he choked out, his words tumbling over one another as they exited him, rushing to get out. “W—werewolf.”

Pained, he managed to get the last word out, but there was no relief when it was finally uttered it. “Every month I turn into something dangerous, something that could—will hurt you, and I—I didn’t tell you because I was terrified. Terrified you would leave. Terrified that if you knew the truth, you’d see me for what I am. I know it’s selfish but—”

His voice broke completely and his legs gave out beneath him as he collapsed on the couch, his face now buried in his hands as his body vibrated with adrenaline. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, his body shaking more with every ragged breath that left him. “I should have told you, but I’m selfish. I wanted to keep you, even if that meant lying to you. Sweetheart I’m—I’m so sorry.”

Your heart shattered for the man in front of you, watching him fall apart, consumed with nothing but fear and guilt. You had never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so catastrophically broken. The sight made your own eyes sting with tears as you wanted nothing more than to reach out for him.

Without saying a word, you moved towards him, kneeling down slowly and gently prying his hands away from his tear-streaked face. “Remus,” you say shakily, cradling his face in your hands with all of the softness you could muster, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Remus, look at me. Please.”

His watery eyes met yours, filled with so much pain and self-loathing, it nearly took your breath away. He gazed at his sweet girl, too sweet for him. She didn’t deserve this burden. She didn’t deserve any of it. If he could take it all back and never have met her he would, the look on her face was almost too much to bear. He wanted to run away. Far away from here. But he had to listen, you deserved that. He would hear what you had to say. He would do anything you asked of him.

“I don’t care,” you tell him firmly, trying to keep the tears from spilling and your voice steady. He needed this right now. Needed you to tell him it was all going to be okay. “I don’t care what you are. You could never be a monster to me. You’re my Remus. You’re the man I love. The man who is kind to me, who is gentle. The man who treats me like I am the most precious thing in the world. That is all I care about.”

He stared at you with utter disbelief, not fathoming the words you just spoke to him. The words were spoken softly, as if they were the simplest of truths. “But—but I could hurt you. I could—“

“You won’t.” You interrupted him, brushing a fallen tear from his cheek with your thumb. “You would never hurt me. I trust you, Remus. I trust you with everything.”

His lip quivered again and more tears followed. “I don’t deserve you, you know that? Not in a million years do I—”

You lean in before he can continue his sentence, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to his lips. Your hand cupping his face gently as you try to pour everything you felt into him, you feel his hesitancy as he doesn’t reciprocate. “Yes, you do,” you murmur against his lips, pulling back just enough to meet those amber eyes you have grown to love so much. “You deserve love, Remus. You deserve to be happy. I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a broken sob, lurching forward and burying his face in your shoulder as he clung to you like a lifeline. Holding you close as if you would disappear from him. “I love you,” he whispered in your ear over and over again like a mantra, words slightly muffled against your now tear-soaked skin. “I love you so much.”

You run gentle fingers through his brown hair, shushing him and pressing soft kisses to the top of his head. “I love you too,” you whisper as you hold him close. You would tell him as many times as he needed to hear it, letting him cry until the storm inside him finally began to calm.

After a long moment, not that you minded one bit, you pulled back slightly. You brushed the tears from his cheeks with a tenderness he had long forgotten. “You know,” you said with a wet smile, trying to lighten the mood between you both. “For a self-confessed ‘monster’, you really are just a big softie.”

A watery chuckle escaped him and he shook his head at your audacity, his grip still holding onto you firmly. “Only for you, dove,” he murmured, his voice still thick with emotion, but at least there was a small smile playing on his mouth, tugging at the corners.

You grinned and pressed another firm kiss to his lips, this one he allowed himself to feel and he melted into you, arms tightening around you once more as if he was afraid to let you go. “I’m yours,” you tell him. “No matter what.”

Remus pulls back just slightly, gazing at your face with a mix of shock and adoration, his brown eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them and full of emotion. His lips twitched into a playful smile as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Mine huh?” He asked, his voice quiet but teasing. “Sweetheart, I have to warn you—it’s a terrible deal. Comes with occasional transformations and an excessive collection of books, overwhelming amounts of tea too.”

You laugh softly, seeing your Remus return with the same playfulness you were unaware you missed so much. He leaned in closer, his lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. “But I’ve got a pretty decent return policy. You’ll get a lifetime of love, some awful jokes and me being hopelessly, utterly devoted to you, sweetheart."

Your heart swelled at his words, but before you could respond, he pressed his lips to yours once again, this time slower, softer, and full of all the love he had just confessed. When he reluctantly pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, still keeping you in his arms. “I’m yours, darling,” he said with raw honesty. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

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kyaroscuro · 3 months ago

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All About You

Maybe it's all about you when your youth is filled with each other's names and your heart has never changed. That's what Juyeon finds out when he falls in love with his best friend.

pairing : bff!juyeon x gn!reader (+bf to ex!sunwoo) genre : fluff, bestfriends to lovers, slow burn, slight angst but happy ending warnings : swearing/cursing, sex jokes, implied sex, mention of burnout, alcohol consumption, heartbreak, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, pretty, baby) notes : it's been a long road but i'm happy to introduce y'all to my baby! i've been (and still am) obsessed with juyeon since the zeneration 2 concert and i guess i've had a lot to write about him... i hope you'll find out the few references i've managed to sneak in! enjoy ✧.* shout out to my dear @winterchimez for proofreading and helping me during the whole writing process, you were a great help <3 words count : 13745

No one ever told you how relationships work. So when you fell in love with your best friend Juyeon at 16, you felt a little helpless. Should he be the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning? Was it wrong to lean on him when he welcomed you into his arms for a movie night? Eventually those feelings faded as you both started dating, and you wondered if it was even true love. Maybe the 16-year-old teenager you were was just attracted to the idea of being close to another soul, mentally and physically.

Maybe yes.

The only thing you know right now at 24, is that the feelings you had for Juyeon back then were nothing compared to the ones you have for Sunwoo today. The attention and love he gives you makes everyone jealous. Even Juyeon himself.

If he wanted to take you out to dinner, you would turn him down because you already had plans with Sunwoo. Arcade, karaoke, late night walks, picnics, fancy restaurants or fast food, you’re always together. Sometimes when you feel like staying in, Juyeon would show up, hoping to watch a movie like the good old days. But he’s met with Sunwoo at the door and doesn’t have the energy to see you being all lovey-dovey.

He knows better than to be a third wheel. As much as he understands the time you spend with your boyfriend, he can’t help but feel jealous and left out. You’re not trying to make him feel that way, you just needed Sunwoo’s presence.

The two of you met in your 3rd year of thesis. He was actually the student under your supervision for his end-of-studies internship. You obviously spent six months seeing each other and working together – in the lab, the library, cafes and even at home. You both grew closer in no time, and that’s only fair given the fact that Sunwoo is a living comedian. You don’t think you would have made it through the whole editing process without his support.

The funniest thing he had ever done was that he was proofreading your work while you did the same for his. Sure enough, you both graduated with the help from one another and a couple of kisses were shared.

From Juyeon’s point of view, those six months felt like an eternity. He had a girlfriend at the time and couldn’t really go out with you. You were both busy for different reasons, but still tried to see each other once a week. But when you did see each other, you always talked about Sunwoo and he talked about his girlfriend. That’s what your lives were made of, but it was a little heartbreaking that you were best friends who only talked about your partners.

“How’s the job hunt going?” He asked at one of your meetings.

“Great actually, I felt like giving up, but I didn’t endure those three years to throw it all away, did I? Sunwoo helped me a lot, he’s my lifesaver.”

Juyeon felt like throwing up, as if his heart had been stepped on the moment he heard those words, and he didn’t know why.

“What about you?” You asked him, cutting his train of thought.

Oh, he knew you were talking about his own job, which he quit a few months ago (more like he’s on a break because he’s burned out). But it’s not like he has to tell you; he doesn’t have the guts to anyway. He thinks you would be sad and angry with him, when all you really want is for him to be happy. And he’s also upset that he’s had to give up on his dream job because it was affecting his health. Thankfully, his boss has been kind enough to give him a chance to rest up for now. Maybe all he needs to keep going is your reassurance?

“We broke up.” He says quietly, looking down at his hands.

“I’m so sorry Juyo, aren’t you too sad?” You say as you reach out to him.

“To be honest, I am.” He admits, looking up at you, a small smile forms on his lips. “It was a mutual agreement, but I feel like I screwed it up. She said I needed to think about my own needs and wants.”

“And what do you want?”

“To spend time with you.” He says straightforwardly.

Your cheeks flushed at his sudden comment. Has he always been so honest?

“I’m free tomorrow if you’re fine with that? Sunwoo is going out with his band.” You say, eager to spend more time with him. “Oh, and Juyo; you should know that I will always make time for you. You’re a big part of my life and I care about you more than anyone else so please do not hesitate to reach out if you need anything. I’m just one call away.”

“I know that but I always seem to bother you.” He says, a little ashamed to think so.

“You don’t. What makes you think that?” You frown at his words, wondering if he actually meant them. “You have no idea how much I look forward to our weekly meetings! It keeps me going during the week, I swear, ask Sunwoo he only hears about you.”

“Oh,” he responded, feeling delighted with your words.

“Yes Juyo, I miss you a lot.” You gasped shyly, suddenly very focused on your hot cup.

“I miss you even more.” He looks for your eyes with a hint of fondness that you don’t notice, even when you raise your head to tell him,

“So tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he smiles, pleased to see you smile back with the same touch of affection.

When you think about it, you don’t understand how it is possible to break up with Lee Juyeon. You didn’t really know the girl he was dating, you never met her, you only saw her face in a picture once. But you do know your best friend, and he’s not the type to break someone’s heart. He would fight for the person he loves, even if it doesn’t work out. Juyeon is love personified. So how can you reject him?

Woo ☼ (3)

Sweetheart I miss you

When are you coming back home

I have a present for you

What kind of present?

Me ;)

OMW

Juyo <3 (1)

Thanks for today, I can’t wait for tomorrow. Pick you up at 10?

Will be pretty and ready!

Always pretty but ready? I’m looking forward to it

As soon as you read his message, your heart began to thump real loud and your cheeks immediately flushed red. Who are you and what have you done to Juyeon? When did he become so flirty? Or maybe he has always been like this and you never cared before. But why do you even care now?

When you were 16, you remember vividly how he kissed your hand goodbye because he was a gentleman and you were a darling. Everyone at school made fun of you for being so old-fashioned, but little did they know that you liked it. Eventually, when you turned 17, he dropped the act and started kissing your forehead instead. It was a hundred per cent worse. Your cheeks turned pink every time you thought about it and people were calling you out for being highkey on PDA and asking you to spare the singles.

Maybe then he was always this flirty.

It didn’t matter much to you because it was puppy love. The first man you ever loved. Until Sunwoo came into the picture.

“How was your date sweetheart?” You laugh into the kiss he greets you with.

“Pretty good, I think I’m developing feelings, I don’t know, he’s just so sweet and- Ouch Sunwoo!” You yelped, surprised by his sudden, somewhat erotic gesture.

“What?” He giggles innocently.

“You didn’t have to pin me against the wall, did you?” You ask rhetorically, knowing full well what his answer will be.

“I did,” his sparkling eyes turn to onyx, his tongue runs over his lips and his gaze travels up and down your body as he answers.

“Yeah?” You whisper, aroused by his deep voice.

“Yes.”

His plump lips are all over yours in an instant, taking your breath away. To deepen the kiss and emphasise his need to be closer, he grabs your legs so you can wrap them around his waist and welcome him in. Your arms wrap around his neck as you yield, kissing him back with passion and love. He doesn’t let go until you’re both out of breath, and then he kisses you again and again like a madman. Eventually, you’re so lost in the pleasure of his kisses that when you feel him nipping at your neck, you push him away, panting.

“I understand that Juyeon is your best friend,” he says with a heavy voice. “But you can’t joke about dating another man.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as he runs his tongue over your lips before kissing you lazily. You stick out your tongue, waiting for him to resume his kiss. He chuckles at your behaviour but kisses you nonetheless.

“Good girl hm, are you hungry?” He utters with lustful and honey dripping eyes.

“Let’s take this into the bedroom then.” At his promise to take you to heaven, you nod eagerly, excited to see what he has planned for you.

You don’t quite remember what happened after that, too lost in lust and love. You felt the kisses on your forehead and the caresses in your hair before he left the bed.

Suddenly, nothing. All you felt was emptiness.

You turn to check your phone when you yelp in pain because your back hurts. Your man was a beast last night.

Wait.

9:30am?

You hurriedly get out of bed, taking in your dishevelled appearance and the hickeys Sunwoo had the courtesy to leave on your body. You’re ashamed to go out like this, because you know that you have little to no time to cover them up.

More importantly, Juyeon will notice them. It’s not that you cared about exposing your sex life, you have a lot of fun with Sunwoo and he’s the greatest in and out of bed. But for Juyeon to see you in such a vulnerable way? It does something to you and you can’t figure out why.

You never talked about your sex life with Juyeon although you are best friends; you two are kind of secretive. Sure, there were times when you complained that your exes were terrible kissers or that dates were horrible. But when it comes to any form of intimacy, it was out of the books. You both never joked about kinks, never asked about turn-ons. Yet, you shared your very first kiss with Juyeon when you were 16.

It was a bit messy and hilarious because you had no idea what you were doing. You remember how when he dropped you off after school or after a playdate, he had this cute habit of kissing your hand goodbye. It was also at that age when you started going to parties – a party between friends, no alcohol, maybe just some cheap beer that tasted like grass. But that was fun and it was also the time when you were introduced to love, through couples and kisses.

Love has always been a foreign language to you. You know for a fact that love is what your parents share with each other, through physical touch, words of affirmation, acts of service, quality time, gifts but also through struggles.

But you also know that the person you’re closest to doing those things is Juyeon. You both were always cuddling, fighting over movies or places to eat. You both would also cheer, support and reassure each other.

You both would always have each other on your minds, sending texts, calling or buying sweet things. It’s only fair that you thought you were in love with him, isn’t it?

And that faithful night, at your birthday party, he thought it would be a great idea to carry you and run around in circles until he lost his balance and fell with you laying on top of him. You didn’t know what was going through his mind, but you saw flames in his starry eyes, and then he pecked at your lips. He brushed it off by pulling you up and wishing you a happy birthday but your heart was racing and so was his.

“Sorry Ju, I woke up late, I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” you pout as you reached his car, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank god your prettiness makes up for lost time,” he jokingly hugs you, his hands laying a little low on your waist. “But you have to take responsibility for making me wait.”

“Juyeon! It’s been 5 minutes you can’t blame me for the delay!” You wriggle into his embrace and put your head in the crook of his neck, a little embarrassed but wanting to be close to him.

“I can, and that’s exactly what I’m doing,” he whistles, taking you out of his arms to observe the love bites on your fair skin. “Maybe you’d be on time if you hadn’t had so much fun last night.”

“Y-Yeah, I walked into a trap,” you stammered, speechless.

“The kind of trap you can’t refuse, I bet.”

And he opens the passenger door before giving you his hand to help you get in. You look at his hand and then straight into his eyes to understand where that confidence comes from, but he just smiles and nods.

“Come on, we have much to do before the carriage turns into a pumpkin.” He smiles and fights with the wind to tuck a wild strand of hair behind your ear.

Spending time with Juyeon is one of the things you adore the most in the world. You were so used to spending your days with him when you were teenagers that you almost forgot what it was like. The princess treatment, the cafe dates, the shopping and giving opinions on outfits, the restaurants. Now that you’re all grown up, reliving those moments feels a little bit odd but great. After all, you’re the same people who dance to the music in every corner shop and laugh at every silly move you make.

Going out with Juyeon is also all about treats and gifts. You have this implicit rule that when you’re out and about, you’re encouraged to pay in turns – be it at the restaurants, bars or for desserts. And of course, he pleases you more often than you please him, but you tend to buy more things related to him – matching items or clothes that reflect his style.

“Look at this cute bracelet! We should get it to celebrate our 10 years offriendship,” you beamed, slipping the bracelet around his wrist without a word of protest to see how it looks.

“But it’s paired with a promise ring?” He comments, in case you haven’t noticed and had a change of heart.

“Then we can get the ring in another 10 years,” you giggle and squeeze his hand to reassure him that this is what you want.

Happy with your little joke, you went to the cashier to buy the bracelets. But it sparked something within Juyeon’s heart. He may be slow to understand, but you don’t have to tell him twice. You consider him to be your significant other. That’s what a promise ring means.

After all, you wanted to commit yourself to him for the rest of your life. You’re his best friend and that should be normal. It is normal to stick by each other’s side. But why is his heart missing a beat?

If you ask Juyeon about his relationship with you, he would describe it as “enchanting”. You’re the most important thing to him. Ever since he bumped into you in 3rd grade, you two have been inseparable. But there’s something that’s always bothered him.

In the beginning, he thought it was because you were the only one that he was really close to. He didn’t look at you any differently. But every time you smiled, he felt a twist in his stomach. Then he made it his goal to make you blush and to kiss your hand. It was thrilling to see you all flustered by his own actions.

He grew up and unfortunately that feeling never went away. In the end, he thought that maybe it was just the hormones. A 16-year-old boy needs to get to know his body and its needs. That’s what he did. Eventually the feelings vanished, but the uncomfortable feeling stayed. Even when he was with his ex.

He’s well aware that you are in a relationship with Sunwoo and that the two of you are in love. He’s never been happier for you. After all the people who have taken advantage of you, you deserve someone positive. Someone who will be there for you and will make you feel loved and truly fall in love. Like Sunwoo.

And yet, he doesn’t know why he’s so attracted to you. He needs to explore his feelings. At least to understand them. Even if it costs him.

“How about a drink?” He asks as the sun is about to go down.

“No, you need to drive safely.” You flinched, clearly against the idea of losing him in such a stupid way.

“What about my place? You know I have this amazing balcony overlooking the sea.” He offers in return with a smirk.

“Deal,” you say with gleaming eyes.

You love Juyeon’s apartment; it has a soft and romantic atmosphere and it’s even more beautiful when the sun goes down. The many plants he has turn a warm orange with the colours of the sky and you swear, it’s so beautiful, like a haven of peace.

“Red or white?” He asks, holding the two bottles out for you.

“Anything’s fine, choose for me please Juyo,” you sing-song, happy to share this moment with him.

While you are setting up his balcony table with candles and wine glasses, he returns with a red bottle and appetisers. He gestures for you to sit on the bean bag and pour the wine like a real chef. You whistle, impressed by his newfound skill. Furthermore, it wouldn’t be Juyeon if he didn’t do a little dance to make you laugh before handing you your glass.

Now that he’s seated, you allow yourself to take in your surroundings. It’s quiet, but you can hear the faint music coming from the living room speakers. Juyeon has never liked the silence, so he always needs to have some kind of background music to feel comfortable. He says it calms him down, especially when he’s nervous, and you have to agree with that.

But does that mean that he was nervous right now?

He never needed music with you, as he always said your voice was his own melody – the harmony he couldn’t get enough of.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pulling you out of your reverie.

You nod, knowing exactly what he means, and reach out to take his hand. He intertwines your fingers and, in the pink-orange hues of the sky you catch yourself blushing. You risk a glance to see him starring absent-mindedly into space and you seize the opportunity to stare him down.

His bangs, usually on his forehead are pushed back, giving him a more mature and sexy look. His eyes, in a beautiful crescent shape, shine with the intensity of the stars. His pretty nose sits up on his face, like a trophy ready to be claimed. And his lips. They’re curled into a gentle smile.

Without a care in the world, he runs his tongue over them and opens them as if he wanted to speak. But no sound comes out, except for the tongue he’s now biting. Suddenly, as if he was aware that you are looking at him, he turns to meet your gaze. Truth be told, you weren’t very discreet. His dark eyes hold yours, then move to your lips, and you see the faint beginnings of a smirk on his lips before he bursts into laughter.

“Like what you see?” He points out, all smug.

That fucker.

You slapped him playfully before you realised you were biting your lips. Yet, he still looks at you as if you were the one who hung the stars in the sky and shone in their place.

All of a sudden, his eyes turn mischievous and you find yourself in his arms as he leads you into the living room. He turns up the music, grabs the camera, puts on a pair of framed glasses and starts dancing. You joined him, because there is no world in which you wouldn’t follow Juyeon. You dance like you’re in a club, grab the wine bottle and shout the lyrics at the top of your lungs. Juyeon films you through the mirror and you play along, you’re the model, he’s the artist. Until he puts the camera in a corner to film the both of you and starts to dance an old choreo that you both did. You smile broadly and the night goes by like this. In between drinking and dancing.

At some point, you find yourselves taking a stroll, jumping and dancing around poles. Oh, but you’re not drunk! Juyeon took out his camera and kept filming you, laughing. The man was hyping you up, the street was your runway! And even though it was a little embarrassing, you had a lot of fun. Trust Juyeon to make you feel the best!

Around midnight, you were eating ice cream in the nearest park when your phone screen lit up with a call.

Woo ☼.

Oh, no. You forgot to inform him you were going out with yesterday’s activities.

“Babyyyyy,” he whines, sounding tired, “where you aaaat.”

“At Juyeon’s, we-“ You’re cut off as Juyeon steals your phone, brushing against your hands a little too long.

“Sorry,” he hiccups, “is it all right if we keep each other company for the night? I can’t drive right now.” Juyeon tries to apologise but is cut short by Sunwoo.

“Had a fun night I see?”

You can feel his anger rising from the way his voice drops an octave. Sunwoo has always been jealous of Juyeon. When you got together, he was very insecure at first, knowing that you had a male best friend and seeing you spend so much time with him. It took some time, but the trust you’ve built up has overcome that awful feeling.

You still have to reassure him sometimes, and that’s okay because Juyeon is your best friend and Sunwoo is your boyfriend. You love them both in different ways. You talked about it with Juyeon and later he got jealous because you spent all your time with Sunwoo on your trip to comfort him. It wasn’t easy, but they learnt to trust you. Along the way, you may have convinced yourself that everything would be fine.

“Sunny, baby, I’m sorry I didn’t inform you. I will sleep at Juyeon’s and be back first thing in the morning before you wake up,” you say in a soft voice, trying to soothe him.

“I’m sorry too,” he voices out, letting out a breath lost in his own emotions, “I panicked when I didn’t see you at home. But I’m glad you’re all right.”

“I know,” you sighed, glancing at Juyeon, “I’m in good hands, I promise.”

“Hurry back, I miss my goodnight kiss already.” He replies, seemingly content with the current arrangement.

“Will be there in no time,” you giggled.

“I love you,” he answers, a smile blooming in his voice.

“I love you too.”

He hangs up just as he called, smiley, which makes you beam in return. However, when you turn to face Juyeon he’s anything but smiling. In his frowning eyes you decipher a sombre mood. Something in complete contrast to the joy you shared tonight. You reach out to grab his hand, but he pulls it back before you can do so.

“We should head back, it’s getting late.” He says firmly.

Your heart breaks at his words. Without giving him a chance, you cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. The hurt look in his eyes makes your heart swell. You scan him to see if he wants to answer, but he avoids you. You’re so close and yet so far away. You feel like throwing up, because your best friend never acted like this around you. He never once avoided you nor stopped talking to you. Thus, you did the only thing you can think of.

You hugged him, as tightly as you can.

You feel his heart pounding and wonder if it’s from the unknown emotions he’s carrying or from your physical touch. You put your hand on his broad chest to feel his heartbeat and plant a kiss on it to reassure him. It stirs something in Juyeon and he hugs you back so tightly you think you’ll lose your breath. He holds you in his arms for what seems like an eternity, your head nestled in the crook of his neck. But you don’t complain, you felt safe.

You stay there, in the warm embrace that contrasts with the cool of the night, squeezing him a little tighter when you hear passers-by whistling lovingly at you. When he lets go, you can see the faint pink colour that tints his cheeks, brought out by the street lights. But little did you know that you have the same colours on your face, if not stronger?

“You okay?” You ask as you rub small circles on his back.

“Yes I am,” he lies openly in a husky voice, “I’m okay.”

Juyeon is fucked. Completely screwed. He’s absolutely, unquestionably and sincerely in love with you.

He has been for quite some time, now that he thinks about it. But he never admitted it. That damned twist in his gut that never left his mind, he knows where it comes from now.

In order to cope with his newfound feelings he lets you use the bathroom first while he changes the sheets and tidies up the living room. He’s floating, not sure if he will ever get a wink of sleep. Especially if you both sleep in the same bed. Because to you, he’s just your best friend, the one you’ve slept with countless times. No strings attached.

He can’t imagine you in his arms, nor can he look forward to waking up by your side. You’re not his.

“Juyo?” Your tired voice echoes from the corridor. “C-Can I get some clothes?”

Oh. That doesn’t mean anything. You have always shared clothes. Then why was he so excited to see you in them? Right, because he’s madly in love with you and knows you will look ravishing in his big shirt. Also because sharing clothes is such an intimate thing couples do. If he lends you his current pyjamas because they have his scent on them, you couldn’t blame him. He’s just a man.

“Are you coming?” You inquire, walking towards him.

It’s worse than anything he’d ever imagined. The shirt is definitely too big for you going down one shoulder, showing the beginning of your chest and reaching halfway up your thighs. What’s more, your pretty thighs are covered by the shorts that rises up when you sit next to him. He looks away, embarrassed to be staring at you.

“I will sleep on the couch, don’t worry about me.”

“No way,” you retorted with little energy left, “your bed is big enough for both of us.”

He’s been acting strange today. First he was feeling all overconfident, then flirtatious, followed by anger, and now shyness and embarrassment. You take a piece of the blanket lying on his lap and you stretch your legs out on the sofa, letting your head fall on his shoulder. Sleep can wait, Juyeon can’t.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t lie to me.” You ask, breathing softly into his ear.

“No,” he shudders, with a faraway look in his eyes, “I’m not okay and I don’t know how to get through this.”

“What’s wrong Juyo? Do you want to talk about it?” You pause to gauge his reaction. “Is it about your ex?”

“More or less,” he breathes out. “The breakup wasn’t that bad, like I said, it was a mutual decision. It’s just- when you started dating Sunwoo I was so happy for you, happy that you found someone who was worthy of your love and loved you the right way. And I thought I would be happy if I found that special someone, I longed for it. But I ended up in different relationships throughout the year, never lasting more than two months. And that’s ok, maybe they weren’t the right person for me, maybe it wasn’t the right time, maybe this, maybe that. I really thought I was going to be happy and I ended up getting my heart broken every time. As much as I believe now that I don’t deserve to be loved. I think I went into my last relationship in that state of mind, and I think she felt it too. Hard not to, is it? We had long talks and great times together; I think I really liked her. And I know she liked me back, I’m just not ready to be in an exclusive relationship right now.”

And everything he said is true, he’s more than happy for you and he thought he would be happy. But he can’t be happy in a relationship that isn’t with you.

“There’s also something I’ve never told you,” he continues, sniggering at the absurdity of his reasoning. “Something I should have told you a long time ago, it doesn’t make me proud, and it sort of reflects why my love life was so messed up. I can’t say it’s the only reason, but it played a big part in my mental health.”

You want to cry so badly, he has endured it all alone and it must have weighed heavily on him. At this point, you’re just waiting to speak and respond but every word that comes out of his beautiful mouth leaves you speechless. You’re such a bad friend that you’ve never noticed the way his eyes get dark and gloomy, or how he cancels your plans at the last minute because he’s got something else planned. When in fact it was sadness overload. Sure everyone has their own coping mechanisms, you wish you could have been there for him, but here you were Juyeon letting you in and you’re here to stay.

“It’s been two months since I was diagnosed with burnout and stopped working. It started off as something mild when I came home more exhausted than usual. I thought I wasn’t getting enough sleep but then I started to feel mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. It was hard to concentrate on my daily tasks and you know how much I love my job? I felt like I was going to die because I couldn’t even have fun doing what I love. Going out with you, my friends or my ex felt great, but I wasn’t as invested as I used to be.” He pauses to catch his breath and swallow back the tears.

“Don’t get me wrong, today was absolutely perfect and I was hyped, I still am. Today felt like going back to when we were sixteen and I loved it. I’m actually starting to feel better. The break up helped a lot because it was taking a toll on my mental health. I know I said I liked her and I did, but I couldn’t help but feel unwanted. Even when she was riding me,” he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

“And it hurts that I didn’t have the guts to talk to you about it because I was afraid of how you would react. Like, hello, I’m taking a break from work because I feel like shit? And I would really like to get your approval so that I can move on. Because you mean everything to me,” he ends shyly.

“Juyeon,” you say in a soft and caring voice, “you mean the world to me too.”

You continued. “You mean the whole world to me and I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. I could come up with something, but it wouldn’t make up for what you’ve been through. You are strong, stronger than anyone. It’s so hard to keep your head above water that I’m proud of you for speaking up and even stopping work. Because focusing on your health is the most important thing. Situation and money may go but I will always stay. I’m so proud of you, proud of who you are and who you’re becoming. You’ll never stop growing and I’ll be there every step of the way, watching you blossom and be happy.”

“And I know you feel like you’ll never be happy,” you resumed, holding his hand. “The only thing I can say is, as hard as it seems, everything you live makes you stronger. Even more beautiful. There’s someone in this world waiting patiently for you, to love you properly, to make you feel loved and wanted. You’re an exceptional person, Juyeon. By that I mean you go above and beyond the call of duty, you give your total support and care, you show up when something’s wrong and I bet you’re an even more protective lover. We did everything together, cried, laughed, smiled, loved. My youth was filled with you and I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t happy because you were and are always by my side.”

“Today was the best time I’ve had in weeks, and that’s because I am with you. We danced, a lot. And you know how dancing has always been our escape,” you paused as you saw the first hint of a smile creep across his face as you continued. “I saw your smile, it was genuine and you were so beautiful. It may have been hard, you’ve been hard on yourself, but today the man I saw was happy. I’m happy because you’re happy, and I’m sad when you’re sad. We are one Juyeon, and I want you to know that I’m here for you, always.”

Long before you have finished speaking, he has taken you in his arms. His embrace is not heavy, but you can feel the weight on his shoulders lighten. You have so many feelings for him, they all blend together and you don’t seem to feel the butterflies in your stomach or the fire he has lit in your heart.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he confesses.

“And what would I be without you?”

Your head rests on his chest and he’s suddenly afraid you can hear his heart beating. You’re so beautiful, your tired eyes fighting sleep and your lashes fluttering. His shirt slipped off your shoulder as he held you in his arms and the permanent smile on your face makes him completely weak. He could kiss you right now. If only you were single.

“Let’s go to sleep, hm?” He caresses your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Together?” You cracked yet another smile.

“Together,” he grins from ear to ear.

Your arms find their way around his neck and you bend your head to make an implicit request. His hands go around your waist and below your knees before he stands up and carries you bridal style. You both laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but also blushed at the romantic gesture. He sets you down on (what his brain calls) your side of the bed and plants a kiss on your forehead.

He then goes through his nightly routine before coming back to you, wrapped in the covers, fast asleep. His heart is about to explode. Now that he is aware of his feelings, he is overwhelmed by the love he has been repressing. He slides in next to you and holds back from embracing you. And if you happen to get close and make your way into his arms, he’ll be delighted to hold you tight.

“Sleep well Starlight, I love you,” he mumbles, kissing your hair.

“I love you more Juyo.”

Waking up the next morning wasn’t as awkward as Juyeon might have thought after the pseudo-confession you heard. He woke up first when he felt you shift in his arms. Because yes, you ended up in his arms, face against his torso. He tried not to make a big deal out of it, calming his breathing and enjoying the warmth of your body. Absentmindedly, his hand caresses your tangled hair, smoothing it and slowly waking you from your slumber.

“Good morning Starlight,” he says, honey dripping from his hoarse voice. “Slept well?”

“Like a baby, you?” You yawned, looking up from his chest.

“Even better than a baby.” He doesn’t want to let you go, once you’re out of his bedroom he’ll have to go back to his little miserable life without your starlight to light it up.

“Shall we take you home? Your boyfriend might get impatient,” he laughs, remembering the events of the previous night.

“Well, he’ll have to wait until I’m full from breakfast! I know someone who makes pancakes to die for,” you winked as you get out of his clothes and disappear into the bathroom.

You know you said you’d be back before he wakes up, and you want to. You miss him. But being in Juyeon’s arms, feeling the regular beat of his heart, makes you feel at home. You don’t want to end what you both have now.

You eat breakfast in relatively silence, except when Juyeon tries to flip the pancakes in the frying pan only to have one stick to the wall. And you watch him adoringly from where you sit, trying to make up for his silliness.

In the end, you leave his apartment in no time at all, dreading your return to your own home. Even though you know that Sunwoo is patiently waiting for you. The last two days you spent with Juyeon were out of time, it was an enchanted interlude and the return to real life suddenly seems very difficult.

He drops you off in front of the building, not without kissing you on the cheek and saying goodbye for the last time. You try not to think of it as a date night as you head for the front door but he’s quick to say “We’re not done yet, you’ll see me more often now” he chimed as he watches you smile and gets in.

The smile doesn’t leave your face until you turn the key in the lock and come face to face with Sunwoo, smiling from head to toe. He takes you in his arms and spins you around before planting kisses all over your face.

“Sunny,” you giggled, “please.”

“But I missed you,” you press a kiss to his lips as he answers, and you feel him smile through it.

“I’m sorry I overreacted, you know I get scared easily, but I shouldn’t take it out on you when you haven’t done anything,” he apologised, bowing his head.

“No, it’s my fault too,” you shake your head. “We had a crazy night and when I woke up you were gone. I was also late and didn’t want to keep him waiting.”

“You know that I’m jealous of Juyeon, right? He might be your best friend, but he might see you as more than that. You can’t say you didn’t want him to wait, because what, you’re willing to make me wait like yesterday but not him? It’s unfair, because you always end up prioritising him.” He bellows, frustrated.

“Sunwoo please,” you begged. “Sunwoo, listen to me, please.” He takes a step back, feeling his anger rising.

“To say what? That you needed to be with him? That he needs you? Bullshit, look me in the eye and tell me he doesn’t have feelings for you!” He shouts in a pissed off rage.

He goes back into the living room and you follow him to see him pacing back and forth. You can tell he’s furious. He always gets angry when you mention Juyeon and it pisses you off. You can’t even spend a day with your best friend because he gets jealous? You’ve been together long enough to think he’s finally understood that he’s the one you love. But as displeased as you are, you’ll never stop telling him and reminding him that you love him. Because couples fight, because he’s insecure and because you care.

“You might as well develop feelings for him!” He spits vociferously.

“He broke up with his girlfriend and lost his job,” you drop, tired of this pointless battle. “So yes, he needed me. And yes, I needed to be with him. I feel like an absolutely shitty friend because I’ve been sitting in his company for weeks and I didn’t even notice that his heart was being broken to pieces. You can shout at me as much as you want Sunwoo, but you’re the one I love. Juyeon may need me again in the future and I’ll be there for him, but at the end of the day I love you and only you.”

“You’re lying. T-There’s no way he…“ He tries to take your hand but you step back, annoyed.

“Have I ever lie to you, Sunwoo?”

The sheepish and upset look on his face is enough to tell you that he’s blaming himself. So you lead him over to the sofa and tell him everything, from the break-up to his exhaustion, which means burnout, but leave out the private details. It’s a lot to take in, and you wonder if he’ll ever believe you. Why would you lie about something so important?

You love Sunwoo, you really do. But you can’t help but be a little irritated by his behaviour. You feel terrible for even thinking and feeling this way, but Juyeon is your best friend! What was wrong with that? What doesn’t he understand about the word “best friend”? You sighed as you take him in your arms and stroke his back, both to calm him down and to ease your own mind. You hold each other for a while, for as long as your hearts desire, but your minds wander to Juyeon. You miss him and you wonder what he’s up to, when you’ll see each other again. Another sigh escapes your lips and Sunwoo looks at you questioningly.

“Movie?” You ask, trying to divert your attention from Juyeon.

“It’s 11,” he chuckles, finally at peace.

“Yeah, so? We can order pizzas and spend the day at home?” You kiss his hand with doe eyes.

“Sounds like a fabulous idea,” he quickly grabs his phone to place an order, “same as usual?”

“I’m feeling adventurous today, so pick whatever you like!”

You hear your own phone buzzing as he focuses on the app again. And obviously it’s the boy of all the arguments, the one who’s been on your mind since you got home and who seems to be distracting you a lot.

Juyo <3 (1)

I miss ya, whatcha doing?

Thinking about u

That ain’t possible

Whyyyy

Because I’m thinking about you

“Who are you talking to with that smiley face?” Sunwoo asks, tilting his head.

“Changmin, he’s talking about the person he met and he seems so in love.”

It's a half-hearted lie, because Changmin told you about the person he recently met, but also because if you say Juyeon's name right now, civil war will break out.

Juyo <3

Oh yeah, prove it?

Seconds later, your phone rings with an incoming call from Juyeon.

Juyo <3

JUYEON YOU CAN’T DO THIS

YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME

Aw pretty’s scared by a sudden phone call?

Actually…

You take a second to answer, pondering if it’s a good idea to tell him about your couple’s conflict. Especially when he’s the one causing it.

Juyo <3 (1)

Am I disturbing you?

You always turn my world upside down

Same goes for you Starlight ;)

So?

I had a fight with Sunwoo

Nothing bad, we already made up

But it’s becoming a recurring thing, and I hate it

Have you talked about it?

That it’s getting hard for you?

Yes and no

We always talk about it, set limits and make up but weeks later it’s as if the conversation never happened

As much as I love him I’m tired Ju

No, you don’t have the right to say you’re tired, because that would mean you’re ready to give up on your relationship for a few fights?

I’m afraid that’s not a valid reason

And I know you’re not the type to give up on someone you love

So take matters into your own hands, spend the day with him and make out ffs

Yeah, haha, you’re right

We’ll eat pizzas and watch a film, that’ll definitely help

And I’ll see if he’s nice enough to make out with him

I can be good for you instead ;)

Yah! You’re losing points Lee Juyeon!

I’m only aiming for the 10s sorry!

Right in the bull’s eye

Which is my heart yes

GTG JUYO

TTYL I LOVE YOU

And I love you more <3

You saw his message through the notification, which you cowardly rejected, but that didn’t stop you from smiling. The conversation had to end quickly, as you were venturing into uncharted territory that doesn't leave you impassive. Besides, Sunwoo was getting suspicious of your big smile.

And he’s right, because what the hell was that? You’re such a coward whose heart beats a hundred miles an hour. He’s definitely winning points, but you’ll never admit it, and to what end? Your heart doesn’t know yet.

On the contrary, Juyeon’s heart beats wildly at your bravery. He doesn’t want to flirt despite his growing feelings, but you leave the door open too wide for him not to come in.

You’re still his best friend, so if you ever need advice or a listening ear, he’ll be there. Like that horrible joke about making out, he hated it. But he knew that it would make you laugh and feel better, because he knows you better than anyone else.

So why can’t he read your feelings? You're not usually so cryptic for no reason, he's sure of that. Yet the changes in your heart can be seen gradually: your sweet words, as well as the ambiguous ones, all carry a special and deep meaning. You’re a book Juyeon is dying to read, but you’re not descriptive enough for him to decipher just yet.

Sunwoo used to read you easily, but he’s not sure of anything anymore. He knows that you love him, that your love language consists of words of affirmation and that you never stop reminding him of it. And yet his insecurities always get the best of him and you end up fighting. The truth is, he’s afraid. You’ve always spent a lot of time with Juyeon and that’s fair, you’ve known each other for almost ten years. But shouldn’t you make up for that time with your one-year boyfriend?

He knows he can’t restrict you or your outings, that would be a dick move and he’s not a dick. You have lots of boy friends and he’s okay with that, but Juyeon? Juyeon annoys him. He seems too perfect to be true: his looks, his gentle and romantic nature. He’s in a one-sided competition because Juyeon couldn’t care less. Or so he thought until now.

Halfway through the film, you're cuddled up in his arms, laughing, when his phone vibrates. Why on earth is Juyeon texting him?

Juyeon (1)

I just wanted to apologise for yesterday. This is not a valid reason, but I wanted to keep my best friend to myself for a while. I’m sorry if that hurt you.

Apology accepted. We’re adults and you’re defo not the one to blame but I appreciate it.

Thanks man

It cost Juyeon a lot to send that message. But in his place, he would have been furious if the situation had happened to him. So he toned it down, to ease the tension and make you feel better. But he’d do it again any time; anything to spend time with you.

And that’s exactly what happened in the weeks that followed.

You spent the whole week with Sunwoo after your meeting with Juyeon, going with him to his band rehearsals, shopping for clothes, accessories or window shopping, going on dates to the cinema, the park and restaurants. You did everything with him.

But that didn’t stop you from texting Juyeon every day. Sometimes he was the one who initiated the conversation, and other times you had to spam him to ask his opinion on the latest clothes you bought or because you missed him. Your weekly outings have also become two or three times a week, and you often meet up on his balcony for a night of dancing and drinks.

Everything is done with respect for your relationship, but you feel his hands on you longer than necessary, always within limits and sometimes in places that make you blush. For an example, he would place them on your hips, and you would be a fool to say that his little touches did not make your heart flutter. When he opens the door for you, when he orders for you without asking and never makes a mistake, or even when he gives you presents that you’ve looked at with envy. He’s so observant and attentive that causes butterflies in your stomach. The more time you spend with him, the more you can’t deny the attraction you feel.

He makes you feel like you are 16 again.

He kisses your forehead, cheek or hand when he drops you off. He holds your hand so you don’t get lost in the crowd. Even if it’s just an excuse, you let him because deep down you want him to.

And you hated yourself for it. You feel so guilty about Sunwoo. Yes, Juyeon may be a little more enterprising than usual, but he hasn’t changed his ways. You’re the one who reacts to harmless words and lazy touches. But your heart hasn’t changed. You love Sunwoo. Those feelings for Juyeon aren’t real. It is an attraction that arises because you spend all your time together, because he’s handsome and cares for you.

You’re not… in love with him.

Isn’t that right?

“Sweetheart, I bought fried chicken on the way home!” Sunwoo says one day after his rehearsal.

“Oh Sunny, you don’t know how much I’ve been craving it,” you clap, looking forward to devouring it. “Thank you.”

“Can I get a hug for being the most awesome boyfriend ever?” He asks sweetly.

“Oh you do,” you giggle, jumping into his arms.

“I love you,” he kisses your nose.

“Me too,” you reply, tiptoeing to kiss his forehead.

“Sunnyyyy,” you call out his name on a Friday afternoon. “Can I go out for the night with Kev, Minnie, Chani and Ju?”

“Sure! Don’t come back too late hm? And be careful.”

“Yes! I’ve got the four horsemen of the apocalypse to look after me and myself!” You laughed.

“Have fun Sweetheart, I love you,” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

“Me toooo Sunny,” you smiled.

And yet, as he does his best to be there for you, to shower you with love and care, you notice that your interactions are gradually diminishing. He’s not the problem but you are. Just like yesterday, you’ve been exchanging messages and at the end of all your conversations you have this cute habit of saying I love you. Except this time, you haven’t replied. You liked his message and replied with a heart.

But that’s not the only case, because you catch yourself not saying “I love you” back when you talk to him. Yet you’re still physically and intimately close. It’s as if you’re giving yourself to him in order to compensate for the emotional changes that you’re going through. And then what? You won’t even be able to kiss him? Hold his hand? Be intimate? You felt terrible, and this has been going on for months.

Perhaps the best (or worst) thing to do is to talk to him about it.

“Sunny? Can we talk?” You say out of the blue one morning.

“Yes baby, tell me?” He replies as he comes out of the bathroom, shirtless.

“Get dressed first,” you giggle.

“Why, don’t you like what you see?” He pouts, crossing his arms to emphasise his torso and you look away, ashamed to be turned on when you’re about to break his heart.

“Oh I do, but you’re distracting me from the point!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs as he pulls on a t-shirt, “is it better now?”

“Yes, thank you,” you sigh.

“Are you okay?” He asks suddenly, sensing your discomfort. “You know you can tell me anything, I’m here for you.”

“Sunwoo, I-“ you take his hand in yours for support. “You need to know that I love you, it has never changed and it will never change, the feelings I have for you are very much real and I cherish them as much as I cherish you.”

“You’re not breaking up, are you? Because I won’t let you.” His eyes are shining now and you want to go back in time. You want to erase everything that has happened in the last two and a half months, the growing romantic feelings and the hurt.

“Sunwoo, I’m not breaking up with you, you’re the person I care about the most in the world, I would never let you down. And I hate myself for what I’m about to say.” You take a deep breath and as you do you know he’s figured it out and tears start to roll down his sweet face.

“I- fell in love with Juyeon,” you drop your head in shame.

You don't have the courage to look up and see the disappointment on his face, but you force yourself to. And when you finally did, his reaction catches you by surprise. It was obviously pain and sorrow, but also resilience?

“May I ask, how?” His voice is low, almost a murmur, but his eyes search yours for the truth.

“I- don’t know, it just happened.”

“Come on, you don’t just fall in love with another man by accident,” he laughs sarcastically.

“And yet I did!” You raise your voice in annoyance. “I didn’t choose it Sunwoo. And I would go back in time if I could!”

He takes a minute to consider your words, to decide whether or not you’re telling the truth. You didn’t expect this conversation to be easy, but he doesn’t make it any easier for you. You expected him to be in denial, to yell at you and cry. Instead he went straight towards the acceptance stage and he had this heartless look on his face. You knew you deserved it because he’s right; you don’t fall in love with another man by chance.

“Does he know? That you-“ he struggles to find the words, but you let him, because it has been hard for you too. You’re in love with your best friend, and you’ve probably been in love with him since you were 16. “That you love him?”

“No, oh god no!” You panic, finally thinking of the consequences, “I wanted to tell you first because I love you and I owe you the truth.”

“But you intend to tell him?” He worries and suddenly you feel like you’re talking to your best friend, the same conversation you had before you started dating Sunwoo.

“No Sunwoo, it was never a question of telling him or not. Yes, I love Juyeon romantically, but you’re my boyfriend. And I’m not trying to fool myself by saying that I still love you, I love you. And I love Juyeon too, but I’m not going to do anything with it.”

“You’re silly,” he chuckles affectionately. “Within the two months since our fight, I’ve watched you for a long time baby. I observed your body movements, your facial expressions and your words, hoping that it was all temporary and that we’d come out of it stronger together. But all I saw was love, but towards someone else. You came home giddy, eyes full of stars. Sometimes even in a frenzy of exaltation from which I found it hard to pull you out, because knowing that you were happy made me happy. So I won’t say that I knew it, but I sensed it. And I know that you love me, I have never doubted it and I don’t doubt it now. But you love him silly. Perhaps even more than you love me. I’m not mad at you, I saw you falling for him, I just ignored the signs. And I know you didn’t choose it, nor did you want to break my heart. Your love for him is stronger and I can hear it. Thank you for telling me, it must have cost you a lot.”

You start to cry, because what else can you do but cry? You love him and it hurts you to hear him say that you love someone stronger. But he’s right. No matter how much you try to deny it, you love Juyeon unconditionally.

“Why,” you cry out.

“Why what baby,” he takes you in his arms, guiding your head in the crook of his neck and your tears start to soak his t-shirt.

“I’m pretty sure I broke your heart and stomped on it, so why aren’t you mad at me? Why are you taking it so well? I don’t understand. I feel like shit and you’re too perfect?”

“You have no idea of the pain, anger and emptiness I feel right now, I’m far from perfect,” his voice falters as he tries to hold back his tears, “but I can’t take it out on you, even though you deserve it, because you didn’t want it? Also because I didn’t speak when I realised you were drifting away. I know you blame yourself, and yes, I am heartbroken, I can’t wait to cry but I don’t want to make you sadder than you already are.”

“I don’t deserve you Sunny, I’m sorry, I love you to the moon and back,” you smile shyly.

“And I love you just as much, thank you for the love that doesn’t make me feel lonely,” he smiles back as he rubs your back in slow motions. “Can I kiss you? One last time?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

When his lips touch yours, it has never felt better. The kiss is a little salty because you have both been crying, but also sweet. It is your last kiss and you devour each other’s lips as if it were the first, not wanting to part. You quickly run out of air, but he presses his lips to yours to convey his feelings one last time and you smile, knowingly, as you kiss him back.

“You should go to him,” he says, lips swollen and eyes puffy.

“Yes, to be with my best friend. And you should call Eric for the same reason,” you sobbed, and he giggles.

“Coward,” he laughs, “but I will.”

“And Sunwoo,” you start again. “I would never do anything without your approval.”

“Thank you,” he replies, touched and aware of the feelings you will always have for him. “For everything, but especially for being with me.”

“I should be the one thanking you, my lifesaver,” you kissed his cheek as you take his hand in yours. “Let’s remain good friends, in the future.”

“Absolutely, if I ever get over you,” he laughs in a reassuring way.

You know that the joke is just his way of breaking the tension, so you laugh it off, saying that he should, and you imitated a knife at your throat as a warning, which makes him laugh heartily. Then, your heart sinks at the sound of you no longer being the recipient. Yes you fell in love with someone else, and it will be just as hard to get over him. But you have Juyeon, and he’s your rock.

Juyo <3

Juyo can I come over?

Sure, is something wrong?

These three words are enough to turn your heart upside down. He’s always been thoughtful, and now that you’ve accepted your feelings, you feel butterflies swirling in your tummy.

Juyo <3

Sunwoo and I broke up

I’ll pick you up in 5

Yes pls, drive safely

He pulls up in the parking lot exactly 5 minutes after his message, just like he said. You rush down the stairs, too eager to melt into his arms to wait for the lift. He doesn’t have time to get out of the car before you throw yourself on him, crying. Tears of separation and heartbreak, and tears of joy when you see him again because you know you love him.

“I’m here,” he whispers in a panicked voice, probably not expecting you so soon and in such a state. “I’m right here, let it out.”

And you do, the feelings you’ve been burying for 2 months are just waiting to be expressed. You cry until your body aches from lack of air and your eyes are dry. Finally, you shiver and regret having gone out so quickly without covering up. But Juyeon is just as quick to pull the jacket he was wearing over your shoulders and you hum happily as his scent washes over you.

“Let’s go home?” He caresses your hair tenderly.

You’re amazed that he doesn’t ask any questions, he just stands by you and supports you through this difficult ordeal that he knows only too well. And the truth is, he’s even sad for you. No matter how much he loves you, you’re the definition of love to him. For you to break up with Sunwoo, for whatever reason, doesn’t make any sense. It’s not his place to ask if you don’t tell him first, so he just holds your hand on the way back, and when he has to let go to change gear, he makes sure he puts it back on your thigh.

This makes you blush like a tomato, how dare he put his big hand on your thigh, almost completely covering it whole. You’re pretty sure your feelings are written all over your face, but he mistakes your blushing for embarrassment, when in fact it’s just romantic stimulation. You look up to see if his hand placement has any effect on him, only to find that he is blushing as well. Being as dense as he is, you mistook his shyness for embarrassment.

You two definitely make quite the pair.

“Make yourself at home Starlight,” he says as he opens the front door, never stopping to hold your hand.

You step inside as he tells you to and try to take off your shoes, planning to curl up on the sofa under the blanket while you wait for him and his hugs. But he had other ideas as he grabs your wrist to pull you closer, pinning you between him and the newly closed front door. Your surprise translates into a gasp that becomes a choke as he drops to one knee. Your heart pounds in your chest at the way he looks at you, worshipping you. Without warning, he bends down to untie your shoelaces, still smiling and even a little mischievous.

“What?” He smiles proudly. “Can’t I look after my Starlight?”

You open your mouth to speak but no sound comes out, too surprised by his playful tone.

“Cat got your tongue?” He sticks out his tongue as he stands up.

“Yes, you got it!” You slap him gently as a reward for nervousness.

“Not in my mouth though…” He whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear it, and that earns him another slap, only he steps back to avoid your blow and you stumble and fall on top of him.

“I guess it will be easier to carry you now,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead.

He puts his arms under your knees and around your waist and you squeal as he lifts you up, bridal style. This man will be the death of you. Oh, how you would kiss him if you weren’t so heartbroken and hadn’t just broken up. And he would kiss you just as much. You’re both madly in love and it shows.

He wraps you in a blanket as he lays you down on the sofa before kissing your forehead for the umpteenth time. Then he goes into the kitchen and fetches your favourite foods, drinks and desserts, which he sets out on the coffee table. You were surprised by the homemade dishes, as if he’d made them with a special purpose in mind. But he doesn’t say a word or make a comment, he just slips under your blanket when he’s done and hugs you, breathing in your scent.

You stay in each other’s arms for a while, not saying a word, just enjoying your hearts beating in unison. It feels heavenly, relaxing and you can almost feel yourself coming back to life. If Sunwoo was your lifesaver, Juyeon is your guardian angel. He is always looking out for you and giving you his utmost special care, just like right now, for no particular reason (even if there is one now).

He doesn’t pry, he just waits for you to speak while he grabs the remote to put on the latest show you’ve started together and feeds you. You’re quite grateful for the little comments he makes during the show, distracting you from the truth: the burning love you have for him that consumes you. In the end, you tell him that you still love Sunwoo, but that your recent incessant arguments have taken their toll on you.

That, against all odds, you’ve spilt up properly. And that it will be a while before you move on, but that the door is not closed. You made sure to emphasise this part, because what if there’s a small chance that Sunwoo was right and Juyeon is a fool in love with you? You’re not ready yet, but when the time comes, you want to confess your love to him and live out the childhood romance you’ve always dreamed of, until death do you part.

The next few of weeks passed in a blur, and you have basically settled into Juyeon’s apartment – going back and forth to your house to pick up your things and put them in his closets. Your shoes sits nicely in the new shoe rack he bought for you to go out together, and your toothbrush sits proudly next to Juyeon’s. You even have matching ones. Oh, and Juyeon can finally happily say that you’ve got your side of the bed, with your cute belongings on the bedside table and a picture of the two of you at 16 in a frame.

In fact, you slowly become a domestic couple-like going grocery shopping together and going on so-called dates. Life with Juyeon is easy. Whether you go out at dawn or dusk, he’s always with you, matching your pace and holding your hand from the streetlights to the dancing starlight. When you saw your hands touching and your steps overlapping, it reminds you of your first encounter and the fluttering of your heart. How you shyly looked at him, only to see him already looking at you lovingly, red on his cheeks. That cold winter you spent together was actually the warmest moment of Juyeon’s life, and that day might have been the day you hid a present for each other in your sleeve.

Even more slowly, your relationship with Juyeon develops as the months go by. It was hard not for it to blossom, considering the fact that you live together and that you absolutely do everything together, but it’s happening. Juyeon has started to walk around bare chest when he gets out of the shower and sometimes! He even goes to bed naked, with just his pyjama pants hanging low on his hips.

Of course, you get to snuggle up against his warm chest and cuddle to sleep. When it comes to sleeping, you don’t even try to fall asleep on your own side of the bed anymore because you always wake up in each other’s arms. You have definitely grown closer and closer in just a few months.

Your touches with one another have become more sensual and romantic and your words more flirtatious. You wear his clothes more often than usual, sometimes getting out of bed in just his t-shirt and underwear, awakening certain feelings within him. From time to time, he dares to put his hands under your (his) t-shirt and kiss your forehead tenderly, for lack of being able to kiss your lips sensually and make you his, right when you wake up.

“All pretty for me hm?” He said the first time you went to sleep in this garment. “You know I’m just a man.”

And if you sat on his hips to cuddle him afterwards, maybe the message got through. Maybe a little too much, given that a few minutes later he pretended to be in a hurry and the water ran for a long time. He’s just a man.

Yes, your man.

Another time, when you were out shopping at the mall, people addressed you as a couple and you didn’t mind, oh no. Perhaps it was the smiley eye contact you made, or the way he held you in his arms and you leaned into him, almost as if you were going to kiss, that gave it away. At least, that’s what gave Sunwoo, who was watching you nearby, the courage to send you a message.

Woo ☼ (1)

Hi, hello! I saw you at the mall with Juyeon, can we talk? I’m with Changmin, we can ditch them together?

Hi Sunny!!! Sure we can, the cafe nearby?

Juyeon was a little reluctant to leave you alone with Sunwoo due to the countless nights you spent crying and the difficulty you had opening up (not to mention your blossoming love for Juyeon) but he quickly gave up because he knew you wanted it and he was happy to spend time with Changmin. Juyeon is the love of your life and you can’t pretend that he isn’t anymore.

“Hi Sweetheart, I saw you left your shopping bags with your man,” he laughs and you kick him under the table so as not to draw attention to yourself.

“Stop that Kim Sunwoo!” You whine.

“Stop what? Calling you sweetheart or calling him your man?”

“Both!” You laugh embarrassed and shy.

“How are you?” He changes the subject after one last laugh and you’re happy to see that he hasn’t changed, he’s still as playful and lively as ever.

“I’m fine, nothing has really changed since our last messages. I told you I got my dream job, so Juyeon and I are treating ourselves with my first salary. Oh, and Juyeon has also found a new job he’s really enjoying. Hence, the reason why we’re out shopping.” You went on to rave about your everyday life, happy to share this new chapter with him, whom you still love very much, just not romantically anymore.

“You must love him a lot,” he says softly, almost as if he were muttering to himself. “It’s cute, you’re cute, I’m happy for you.” And you don’t answer, curious to hear what he’s going to say next.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot over the past six months,” he begins. “Thank you for always reaching out to me and not ghosting me despite the break-up, it meant a lot to me. Being away from you has been hard. I will not lie. But it also taught me that I was too dependent on you and it felt great to spend time by myself and with our friends. I got news from them and saw that you were doing well, as anyone going through a break-up would be. And it made me realise that, if you were fine, I should be fine, even if it was just a facade, that somehow the sadness would pass.”

You nod to let him know you’re listening and that you’re on the same wavelength as him.

“And it did,” he whispers almost happily, as if the weight he was carrying close to his heart has been lifted. “I thought I would love you for the rest of my life, but then I met someone.” You gasp at his words and tear up a little.

“It came as a blessing, without me even looking for it, and I can say that I’m happy now. So when I saw you so happy on Juyeon’s arm, looking at him lovingly like he hung the stars in the sky I thought: “Ah, you’re really on cloud nine with him”. I shouldn’t hold you back from your happiness. You have my blessing, not that you need it but date him, kiss him, make love and live happily ever after.” To emphasise his words, he squeezes your hand which he has started to hold somewhere in his monologue, and kisses it.

You swear you didn’t want to cry, and Juyeon will probably be worried to see your swollen eyes, but how can you remain impassive in the face of so much love? It’s true, you held back and would have kissed Juyeon if it wasn’t for Sunwoo. But now you’ll both be happy.

You chatted for quite a while, enjoying your reunion as friends, learning more about the person he had met and ranting about your life with Juyeon, when he appeared before you with Changmin, impatient to get you back. You missed him. How did you manage to live without Juyeon so far? Ecstatic, you jump into his arms and bid your goodbyes promising to meet again soon. As you walk away, Juyeon’s phone beeps and he just shrugs at the message in his inbox with a smile. Then he ruffles your hair, earning a pout from you that he kisses away at the corner of your lips. You wonder what the message was, but the kiss is definitely more important.

Sunwoo (1)

I’ve seen the way you look at each other, it’s full of love. Give it a shot!

Yes, there will be many more kisses now.

And here you are today, on Juyeon’s couch, enjoying your home date for the tenth anniversary of your friendship, with Sunwoo’s blessing in the back of your mind. You spent the day cooking together, sweet and savoury, having fun with the shapes of the cakes and pizzas (hearts and dicks like the children you are), playing games, dancing and listening to music in a good-natured atmosphere.

Today’s a day to celebrate your friendship. Yes friendship, when all you want to do is kiss him senseless. Maybe confessing today is not such a bad idea. Especially when you see him coming out of the shower in all his glory, beads of water running down his naked torso, hair tousled and wet, tongue running over his lips sensuously as he looks you straight in the eye, ready to pounce on you. Oh, and, his cinnamoroll pyjama pants, low on his hips and revealing the Apollo belt of his abs, make you smile as much as it turns you on.

Juyeon takes his place between your legs, smiling, his hot muscular back resting on your chest as he lays his head back on your shoulder, dampening your matching melody pyjamas. He chuckles as he turns his head to see you gawping. His big veiny hand that had been squeezing your thigh flies to your cheek, turning your flushed face towards him so he can kiss the pout at the corner of your lips. His beautiful lips linger a little longer on your neck, but you welcome his touch with open arms and lean into his embrace.

His eyes are full of stars when he rises from your embrace to grab the remote and turn on your series. But he remains seated between your legs, unconsciously resting a hand on your knee to preserve the intimacy you’re so immersed in. You help him on with his t-shirt, not without kissing his shoulder first, making him shiver. And your hands take the opportunity to wander down his torso to his waist, making him smirk as well. You become more and more adventurous, he loves it and can’t wait to run his lips all over your body, discovering all of it.

You place a kiss on the crown on his hair and when you notice that it’s already dry, an idea crosses your mind. Juyeon’s focus is back on the show, so much so that he can barely feel your hands playing with his hair. You give him a rather pleasant massage, moving down to the small of his chest, across his neck and up into his hair, twisting it between your fingers.

“How does it feel?” You murmured in a hushed tone.

“Heavenly,” he moans.

The tension is palpable as you continue your services, your hearts beating wildly, almost as one. He takes one of your hands in his to kiss it, the attention making you blush, before replacing it in his hair and nodding for you to continue. So you undertake one of the most romantic acts of love in your eyes, braiding his hair. Strand by strand, your fingers caress the edges of his face. The braids come undone as quickly as they are made, but he smiles broadly as he touches them, feeling butterflies in his stomach and his heart beating erratically.

“I could see our everyday life like this,” you whisper in his ear. “Together.”

Juyeon, who had been purring at your display of affection, becomes still when he hears your words. He slowly turns to face you with the most charming smile and tenderly takes your hand to place it on his chest, where his heart burns with love. The fire in his eyes burns inexorably, lighting up his already sunny face, unable to leave him. You’re captivated by this intensity and he doesn’t look away, also in love with your sparkling eyes, even when he reaches out to grab a little box that has always been right in front of your eyes. Yes, his love has always been on display. You were just too slow to catch on.

But you get it now. You’re two fools in love.

“You know how our youth is filled with each other’s names?” He says, voice a little hoarse and heart beating fast under your palm. “Well, my heart has never changed, I’ve always wanted to be with you. You are my breath of fresh air, the warmth that keeps me going through the winter, and the words I’m about to tell you will never melt away. My everything is all about you, it has always been about you.” He pauses to take a deep breath and kisses the palm of your hand, which he then links with his own, intertwining your fingers.

“I love you,” he sighs with love and happiness. “I love you so much that I was reading my destiny inside your eyes without even knowing it.” The flame of love he has carried all these years dances in his eyes, making him irresistible and captivating. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you wait for his question, palpitations he feels through your bound hands.

“Would you be mine?” His gaze, dropping to your lips then back to your eyes, is determined as he opens the velvet box to reveal two rings. Not just any rings, the matching promise rings to the bracelets you bought months ago. The ones on your wrists that you’ve never taken off.

As if on cue, as a sign of future commitment, he kisses your left ring finger and places the ring on your right with such tenderness that you almost cry. No, you’re pretty sure tears are rolling down your face because he puts his thumb under your eyes to gently wipe away the tears and kisses the salty drops that have run down your cheeks, close to your lips. With that, you mirror his actions by kissing the ring, his left ring finger and placing it on his right finger with a dazzling smile, as an unspeakable promise – that you’ll spend the rest of your lives together.

“I have always been yours. I love you Juyeon, so much that I’m going crazy.”

Even now, after confessing his feelings and hearing yours, he remains respectful and lets you make the first move with a victorious smile. You grin, feeling the cool material of the ring on your cheek as he cups your face in his hand, reminding you that this is all real and that he loves you.

And he does.

So you finally lean in, closing the gap between you to rest your lips on his. It was meant to be a soft and quick peck, but he captures your body and deepens the kiss, years of longing and wanting not to be wasted, leaving you breathless. His lips search yours every time you pull away, not wanting to let go, intoxicated by your lips and this new closeness. If you spend the rest of the evening making out and exploring each other, no one will say a word. Not even your neighbours.

Ah, you’ve never been in love and wanted to be with anyone as much as you do with him, and this since you were 16.

#the boyz #tbz #juyeon #juyeon x reader #juyeon scenarios #juyeon fluff #juyeon imagines #sunwoo #sunwoo x reader #tbz scenarios #tbz fluff #tbz imagines #tbz x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz x reader #claire's work #🌸

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foldingfittedsheets · 10 months ago

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In the bloom of my youth I found myself on an evening with my best friend in the park. We were young and it was a beautiful warm summer night to be out. At sixteen in a small rural town our options for entertainment were limited but it had been a good day.

Park is a somewhat generous term for the locale, what it amounted to was a cleared space with some planters and bushes, a tiny podium, and a square of trees round the perimeter. We had been hanging about with our friend who needed to leave, and waiting to be picked up ourselves, carless plebeians that we were.

So there we were, two teen girls in the park alone as the last of the light faded. Neither of us had cellphones, and my nana was collecting us right from the park as we’d agreed earlier. We were in no hurry, knowing she’d arrive when she arrived.

Until my friend said, “What was that?”

I looked up to where she was pointing but I didn’t see anything. “What?” I asked.

“I think it was… someone streaking?”

It was absurd to think. Our little town, tiny and rural as it was, with a streaker. But I loved my friend, so instead of laughing I said, “Let’s go see.”

I’m not sure what I thought it was, but I was confident she’d be less nervous if we investigated and found a plastic bag or a jogger in white. And I’ll admit I was curious at this anomaly. We made our way across the park to where she’d pointed.

That’s when I saw it too. A flash of pale skin under the streetlights, moving too quickly through the shadows and shrubs to see clearly. My friend clung to my arm, shrinking in on herself and I felt the first twitch of fear. Investigating no longer seemed like the thing to do.

I was determined to protect her from whatever was lurking, so I changed course and started cutting away from the movement, heading for the small shopping center not too far outside the park.

Our progress was suddenly arrested as the mysterious figure launched into our path. A man crouched on the pavement before us, fully nude except for a loincloth. His hair was in white people dreads. It was in every way like Tarzan had stepped out of the animated movie into real life.

My friends fingers were digging painfully into my arm and we stood stock still, staring at this bizarre apparition. He was still a good fifteen feet away from us. He stared back, making soft simian “ooh ooh” sounds.

I was struggling to process that a man in a loin cloth was right there when he started to move toward us. It was in his monkey half crouch, a few shambling steps, slow, with his eyes fixed on us.

“Leave us alone!” I declared.

He stopped, tilting his head this way and that. Then shifted like he would take another step.

I was fully afraid now, but I was also furious that he was menacing us and scaring my friend. I dropped her arm, marching forward with wrath in my eyes and said, “Get out of here before we call the cops!”

At my approach he turned and bolted back into the bushes. I whipped around and zipped back toward my friend, grabbing her arm and power walking us out of there. We arrived at the nearest business and darted inside, conveying what had just happened in garbled snippets.

The workers were outraged to hear our story. They let me call my nana to tell her where we were, then asked if we’d like to call the police. I shook my head. I emphatically did not want to deal with the police.

In the safety of the store my fear had started to feel ridiculous. It was probably just some bored prankster.

As we waited for my nana my friend quietly admitted she would rather liked to have called the cops. I apologized for not asking. We lapsed into silence. She said, “I can’t believe you went toward him.”

I couldn’t either. I didn’t remember planning on it, only I wanted to be between him and my friend. “Do you think he was crazy or was it just a prank?”

She shook her head. She didn’t know either. All these years later I still don’t really know what happened that night. If he was on a dare, or cosplaying Tarzan for fun, or if he was unwell. A lot of the details have hazed over with time but the utter dissonance of seeing a man in a loin cloth pop out of the bushes is seared into me.

I also remember back then, in a whisper both scandalized and fascinated, my friend admitting, “I saw his penis.”

#ramblies #ffs foibles #Tarzan #streaker #writing #story #true story #one of the weirder experiences I’ve had

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legend-the-dumb-jock · 2 months ago

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I have always had a hard time gaining muscle since I have a genetic problem in that area and I look younger than I am because I am a pasty white ginger. My dream has always been to be one of those huge hairy lumberjacks. I wish you could get me a job as one and within a few days I grow into my new roll.

Gingers are amazing. It sounds like we just need to set you on the right track. Sleeping through the night you have dreams of muscle. Hair. And being a lumberjack. Little did you know that while you sleep your body begins to change. Getting on the right bath. You grow taller from 5’6” to a giant 6’2”. You feet hang off the bed ! And muscle begins to grow. Real hulking your frame up. Massive arms hang from your sides while massive pecs form over a strong core ! And hair grows. And lots of it. Soon you’re a wirey mess of hair and muscle. Sweat is pouring off your body and staining the end sheets. Even dripping off your thickened large feet.

Waking up you are shocked to see such a grand change over night. You’re flexing and can’t help it ! You can’t wait to show off your new lumberjack body. This is really a dream come true ! Your friends come over and are shocked at your transformation. They don’t even believe it’s you but they can still see it is. Your face even though covered with hair is still recognizable under the thick pelt that’s now on it. They demand to know how this happened. What did you do! And you just smirk and say “well wishes come try to people who ask the right person” and indeed you are right 😈

You enjoy the rest of the evening with your friend. Loving it up as they call you name like ginger bear and the walking barrel! You’re huge ! One downfall so far though is that you notice how much more you sweat. How much hungrier you are. You don’t think you stopped eating all day ! But a growing bean like yourself needs all the calories you can get don’t you? That night you pass out. Those 15 beers really did you in!

While you sleep just like the night before you begin to change again. Hair thickening. Becoming more prominent on your arms and hands even your feet. But one other thing happens. Age. You begin to quickly lose that youthful appearance as you take on a more rugged look. One that is fitting of a lumberjack. One that been doing it for a couple years or so. Lines forming on your face and your muscle growing less defined but non the less till there. You wake up the next morning sore. You sit up in bed and don’t notice anything right off hand other than you back slightly hurting. Calases on your hands and feet have formed. It that’s from being a true lumberjack right? You walk to the bathroom and you’re shocked to see a man I of at least 40 staring back at you !

You step back from the mirror. What is going on!? Your mind is in a panic but your face registered none of these emotions. A lumberjack doesn’t freak out. If anything your body as if on auto pilot gives rush same smirk again and you get dressed. You go out for the day. Getting a beer here and there. Eating! You try to reach out to your friends and they respond back asking who you are. You’re too old to have friends their age now anyway right ? So it’s all part of the magic. You’ll need to find new friends that str more inline with the same path you’re on.

You make it back to your home which you see is slowly changing. Becoming more of a log cabin it looks like. Busting through the door with some tightening shoes and some sweaty pits you stumble to the kitchen with your case of beer. Another 15 in and your already passed out on the couch. And now it’s time for the final change. You age another 10 years. 50! Now you’ve really got some serious life experience as a lumberjack. A thick great beard grows across your face as your timberland boots burrs open at the toes from your feet growing another 4 sizes. 17!! Your nipples point downward on hard slabs of muscle the sag only slightly. You’re snoring louder than ever as your stomach pushes outward. Holding the same rock hard appearance and feel that it has before. But now forcing a massive rock hard muscle gut onto your frame. When you wake up and see the changes this time youre shocked. Internally screaming again. But your body won’t respond to this emotion. Instead. Instinctively open another beer and chug it. And another. And another. You stand up from the couch and kick off your trashed shoes. Your socks have holes in them as you make your way to the bathroom. Stripping off the remnants of clothes that won’t fit anymore you stare at your massive finger bear body in the mirror. “Damn I look good!” You growl. Distended abdomen. Bulging bulking muscle. Massive feet. And so much hair you look like you’re wearing a damn sweater. You smile at your sweaty body. Now the only problem. You’re a lumberjack….but without clothes.

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vinjinssunglasses · 2 months ago

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♯┆summary; With the mention of a rebellion against your lover and a third party mysteriously arising in the midst of a war, Haruto’s home life.. All piling upon themselves, worry after worry. The last thing you want is bloodshed.

♯┆ tags; established relationship, implied child abuse/neglect, canon divergence,

♯┆ w/c; 3.8k

♯┆ a/n; plot-heavy, somi park training arc 😭 help im so tired. also a pt.2 of my previous shingen fic ^^

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That night you rested in his loving arms, his hair draping over your body. No matter how gentle he were, singing you sweet lullabies when he realised you were still awake, your body simply refused all efforts to relax.

Stress has taken over your mind, and it’s as if your not the one in charge if your body. Has anything even changed? Everything you did seemed futile. Whats the point of even trying anymore?

Your turned your body more into his warm chest, and tried to forget everything. Clear all these useless thoughts, push them to the back of your head and finally let your mind relax. They crawled from the pit you banished them to and caused trouble as if to taunt you.

What did Shintaro mean that day? Rebellion. Shingen, pronounced dead? There’s a reason why he’s the leader, have they all forgotten? Deep down you know he will remain undefeated, yet the thought of him paralysed on the floor, crimson blood pouring out of his body gnaws at you. What would his last words be? Why, what, when, who — is it just impossible for you to rest easy?

Shouldn’t you tell Shingen? Sitting up, his hand draped from your waist to your thighs, and he wearily blinked awake.

“What’s the matter? Can’t sleep again?” Shingen muttered, half-asleep.

“Yeah. I’m going to go get some fresh air and a drink. You go back to sleep, alright baby?” You placed a kiss upon his forehead, and he rested against the pillow once more, taking your word.

The cold breeze of the night calmed you only a little as you walked towards the kitchen. Stars and moon alike, you watched as they formed detailed constellations upon the sky — one of a knife and a moon. That reminded you: Shingen would always call you his star, and you’d call him your moon. His favourite inanimate thing was the moon, shining brightly at night and disappearing by day. He’d say it’s represent him as youth, however not going to deeply into it. Shingen’s expression whenever it came up in conversation were.. unusually troubled. As if it haunted him and had to shut it out for years, just for it to reappear when he least expects it.

It made you wonder what happened, who made him this way? If anything, you wanted to seek revenge, and yet you couldn’t.

Rules must’ve stopped him from falling in love with you in the first place, just like how rules are stopping you now. If it wasn’t so frowned upon, you would’ve taken uo marital arts and higher education. Being born into this life stopped you from being you, stripping you from your talents to being in a uniform, dystopian society called impossible expectations that we name as the ideal life for women and those alike. Same with Gun, your only son, becoming a slave to this system.

Letting out a sigh you didn’t realise you were holding in, you carefully slided open the door, revealing the room you were so used to seeing. Leaning against the counter, taking steady small sips while sneakily opening a tablet of sleeping pills, you could only hold your head in your hand. You’d be damned if anyone realised you snuck in pills like these, yet you needed them. You hated the fact you needed them. Each time you swallowed it down your throat, it only reminded you how you were so dependent on this clan. Having your families reputation boosted this way was the only way to recover it in the first place, realising how much they’ve messed up everything.

You cursed under your breath, and a headache came upon you. It must be from all these unwanted thoughts reappearing.

“I see you’re up late.“ A familiar voice echoed in your ears and you turned to look at the tall figure, Shintaro. Worst timing. You were only wearing a small nightgown, you were dressed too informally to be met with someone of upmost authority. Undeserved authority. Rules were the only thing he cared about. Setting aside his own emotions and others morals, he made sure everyone fit into this idolised society. Its was as if it were our fault we were born and raised into this life. The way he re-enforced these problematic beliefs were like it were law, despite not abiding to the real law in the first place, resorting to violence when and whenever he pleased. His manipulative tactics made it seem as if he were a befitting leader for the clan, drawing everyone in with the whip of his fan and his smooth tone of voice. Shintaro’s undeniably astounding looks have him the upper hand, even the other ladies from other clans chattered amongst themselves when they found out weren’t married yet, flirting with him whenever the opportunity arises. As they say, ‘you should marry into power and wealth.’

It wouldn’t be wrong to say they gained and admired Shintaro more than Shingen’s leadership. Shingen may be blinded at times, yet he had the brain capacity to understand complex situations and arise new rules and regulations when change were necessary. He weighed the benefits for the people, always upholding them as first in his mind, as they were to live peacefully under his guidance. On the other hand, Shintaro twisted the rules to fit his own narrative, manipulating them as to seem Shingen made it this way, to seem as it were his fault the Yamazaki were so divided. You didn’t trust him and avoided all communication and conflict, as he’ll make them turn from you too. It was no use anyway — they already wanted your head on a pitchfork.

“Yes. My apologies for any disturbance I’ve caused, I’ll go back to my room—“

“Wait.” Shintaro started, taking slow steps towards, gazing down upon your avoidant one. The moonlight cast shadows over the room, completely still, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Every ounce of your being anticipates his next move, and your breathing stopped.

“Why won’t you rebel? Can’t you see we’re all unhappy under his rule?” His hand lifted to rest upon your shoulder, the force crushing your collarbone just enough not to break it. The knife was sitting there in its rack, and it felt as if it were staring at you, begging to picked up. If this were to go on, he may as well break your shoulder.

In one swift motion, you ripped the knife out of its rack, its sharp end reaching his lips, glistening in the moons radiance.

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? Unless you want your head splattered on this floor for me to clean up, I don’t want to hear another word.” Stern, serious and strict. Underneath this facade, you were shaking. Knife trembling in your fingers, you upheld your scrutinising gaze, watching as his hand fell to his sides. Shintaro didn’t want to admit that he saw Shingen in your eyes, the same look he gave him that day. The same strength that beat him once before was in you. It dawned upon him that you may have the ability to become as strong as Shingen one day, however that was only a meaningless hunch. Someone like you is simply just a joke.

“I could make you my wife, and give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Unlike him, who only disappoints this clan. Why would you want a leader like him? Talk to the people of this clan, wouldn’t you?” Grasping onto the knife, Shintaro pointed it towards the ground gently.

“Didn’t I say I didn’t want to hear another word from you?”

“One last chance. I’ll give you one, last chance.” He swerved in closer, breathe cold against your ear. Gripping onto his collar, you shivered, pulling him away.

“Get out of my sight, you hear me? Next time, I’ll delve this knife into your throat.” You growled, the thought of it all making your blood boil.

Shintaro sighed, accepting that boneless threat as an answer. “Fine, as you wish.” Yet you knew this wouldn’t be the last time he would do this. Having you in his side would make one less corpse to clean up, and an easier way to excuse the bloody murder he were scheming.

The two of you exchanged one last glance, and the tension eased as you were left alone to your own thoughts. All this time you avoided troublesome matters like this, and it finds you when you least want it. The knife rested in its holder once more, and you took a deep breath. Ignoring this won’t do you any good, yet telling your lover he may perish in cold blood doesn’t seem exactly appealing. In fact the opposite. It pains you to even think about it.

Again, you’re up until morning once more, resting in the sun’s golden rays. Taking a deep breath, you entangle your fingers in your lovers hair, eyes lingering over his facial features. He slowly winked awake and rested his hands over yours, mumbling a ‘good morning’ under his breath.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I just woke up early, that’s all.” You sighed, pressing a kiss on his cheek. Of course, you didn’t want him to worry, he must be too busy himself anyway. For years you’ve been independent, so it won’t be any different now.

“There’s no need to lie. If there’s something the matter, I promise I’ll make it right.” The gentleness in his eyes soothed you, yet not enough to let those damned words spill out of your mouth.

….,

Word has spread that Gun has taken up Aikido. That day you prepared his lunch, and decided to watch him train. The smile on his face when he saw you sitting in the side warmed you, as you enveloped him in an embrace.

“Mum, youre here.” He cheered, doing small punches in the air to show off what he’s learnt.

“Of course. I’ve just been a little busy lately. Look, I made you tteokbeokki.” You smiled. It was your favourite thing to watch him being happy, knowing it might not last long.

“My favourite!” Gun licked his lips, clasping onto your hands. “I’ll train extra hard today, okay? Watch me, watch me!” He hadn’t seen you in ages. As a young boy, he wouldn’t understand, and doesn’t need to even take notice of your situation.

“It’s time for training.” The Kojima brothers, also one of the many supporting Shintaro’s leadership. As if they’re his personal bodyguards, they spread his propaganda like major gossip. Perhaps the news about the rebellion is being tossed around as the second passes. Shigeaki passes a distasteful glare at you before diverting Gun’s attention to the task at hand.

Since Gun was only young, they decided to teach one of his nephews how to do Aikido as well. They couldn’t personally spar with him because of the height, age and experience difference, and an intelligent opponent like Haruto would be well-suited.

Similar in age, the only difference was their upbringing. Haruto was a secluded boy who was subjected to the cruel opinions that he were useless because of Gun’s existence. Instead, his mother offered reading. In her view, if he couldn’t be the best at fighting, why not intelligence?

It almost reminded you of Shingen’s and Shintaro’s situation. He was born to succeed, while the other was made to cover up after his mess. Since Shingen were the oldest, he were given privileges like fighting and only sometimes playing around. Shintaro, on the other hand, were interested in martial arts yet never got the opportunity to persue it like he did. The notion that he were to protect his brother — no, dedicate his life to him — eventually seeped through the cracks, and jealousy took over. Nobody cared what Shintaro did, whether he ran away or not, he was always in the shadows. Shintaro always presumed he never struggled, having everyone by his side supervising him, yet little did he know he did.

He didn’t know that Shingen didn’t like training for so long, knowing his only purpose being only to prosper and become the heir to the Yamazaki clan. They only praised him for his fighting abilities, nothing else. This clan only critizied his interest in artistry’s and such, To leave a peaceful life and play games with his brother were his goals, yet Shintaro only treated him with coldness. The awkward, suffocating air between them never subsided, and still persists until today.

For centuries it was like this, and old tradition that you plan to cease from existence.

Haruto used strategic methods to trick his opponent, Gun, to the floor. What the Kojima brothers didn’t know was that intelligence and usage of technique was also important in a battle. Jonggun was trained to use brute force, which was in fact also crucial, yet he didnt have the ability to predict his next moment, therefore his next attack was based off of quick thinking. The way he grabbed his arm and flipped him into the floor resonated with you, something inside made you want to learn that too.

Then again, it would be against the rules.

“Auntie, did you see that?” Haurto smiled, pulling you in to a hug. He’s just a young boy too, why can’t he also train to be the best? Why are we, as humans, so dependent on a genetic abnormality?

“I’ll beat you next round!” Gun pouted, sticking his tongue out, teasing the other. Haruto made a snarky remark back, and they quickly started getting ready to spar for another round of Aikido.

Haruto’s mother doesn’t deserve him. No, not at all. You’ve noticed how he always comes to you for his troubles, advice and support. On the outside, she seems like the perfect mother — sparing only kind words to her only son, caring for him — yet in private, what does she do? Those bruises speak for themselves; just what has he gone through? At the occasion his long sleeves that he always wears slips up, a new one appears, and he shakes it off like it’s normal, changing conversation or distracting you while he pulls it down. Guilt washes over you as you couldn’t bear to admit that his experiences would haunt him for the rest of his life. Nobody deserves that.

“Mum! Are you watching?” Gun’s voice, steady with his hands in starting position, bring you back to reality. You clap and cheer with a smile, and watch each and every step. Haruto wins once more, and Gun slumps over towards you, disappointed.

“How about you two teach me how to fight in Aikido style, and I’ll give you the tteokbokki I made. Fair trade, huh?”.

…..,

In Korea, Gapryong’s Fist Gang rests in the comfort of their calm surroundings, under the warm light of a chandelier in the midst of a cafe. Warm light crests a warm atmosphere, the coffees fumes diffusing into the warm breeze the windows let in. Idle chatter

Jinyoung’s mysteriously studying human anatomy, sneering while holding his pencil ever-so intimately. Gapryong peers over his shoulder, taking a quick peek of the monstrosities he’s been hiding recently. Strangely scientifically accurate art pieces of the human skeleton, limbs, organs and veins. His obsession with skulls were disturbing, graphically capturing every hollow, rounded and crisp surface of the cranium. Teeth. After beating his victims, he’d pull out their teeth, collecting them in jars to preserve them. Not just any tooth, the wisdom tooth were his favourite. If he could, he’d slice each finger — in fact the whole hand — and inspect each and every crevice. Teeth were easier to steal and nearly as satisfiying.

No matter how close these four men were, fighting all their battles together, none of them knew the twisted layer under his skin that were slowly taking over.

Jinyoung has suspiciously became quieter recently. Before he’d wear a smile on his face and kick up conversation like it was nothing, offering hand wrestling or the sort. Now? He’s preferably keep to himself, not saying much and focusing on that sketchbook. The scratching across the page, eyes peeled, breath becoming more dragged by the second. Insanity? He’d be the last one you’d suspect. Someone as outgoing as him would never, or so the other three members thought.

Do they even know eachother?

“So, about the Yamazaki Clan,” Gapryong starts, finger tapping against the table. “The police showed up last time, and we had to flee. What a bore.”

“That’s right. I’m sure they’re dwelling in Korea still.” Elite yawned, breaking eye contact with a grin that didn’t seem so frustrated.

“I’m sure we’ll get em next time, y’know?” Gapryong bites his bottom lip, leaning back in his chair.

Silence dawned over the atmosphere, as if someone was wanting to say something, yet left it to the next person. Elite took a sip of his tea, not lifting his eyes off of his cup while tapping his foot on the wooden floor. You could never tell what thoughts were running through his mind. Its was only obvious by his course of actions, what steps he took and what blood he shed. Actions and foreshadowed speech were the way to figuring out his intentions, it were no use to just ask him, being such the perfect liar he is. Precisely, this is the reason they didn’t predict his newest project, designed to leave thousands of corpses, particularly the three bodies he wanted. And he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. Call him greedy as you may, but a guy like him has no bounds to getting what he pleased.

Maybe it’s the trust between them all, why they didn’t suspect him. All these years must’ve meant something to all of them. To Gapryong, it was true friendship — who didn’t like someone to trust and keep company? To Tom, it meant loyalty, a group you could share anything to. Nowadays it felt like that idea has went astray. To Jinyoung, — well, the Jinyoung they used to know — it was exploring the world with the people you value most, laughing all night with a couple of drinks. To Elite… What was it to Elite?

He pulled up his glasses, scanning their troubled faces that avoided the other’s eyes.

Tom sighs, taking it upon himself. “You’ve all heard about that clan recently taking over…” Elite’s breath stopped, batting his eyes in disbelief. Jinyoung paused, letting out a sigh before continuing scribbling. Gapryong frowned, running his hands through his hair, swigging his chapstick out of his pocket.

“That’s right. It’s becoming worrying. I beat down some of the lapdog’s of the organisation, yet none of them will speak, no matter how much you torture them.” Jinyoung spoke softly, voice remaining neutral, yet his heart felt like it was the end of the Fist Gang. No, it can’t be over yet. Not before his plan takes place.

“Then we’ll have to talk their boss.” Gapryong spoke, stern, completely set on the idea. Whether it meant a simple polite introduction or a brutal brawl rid of mannerisms, his determination remained intact. Gapryong wasn’t the type to give up.

“Y’know what? Let’s drink tonight, I want to meet some lovely ladies before I do.” He smirks and passes a seductive wink over to the barista standing behind the till, watching her blush and rush to cover her reddened face. “Who’s with me?”

Tom agrees and Elite pauses for a second, eventually nodding. Jinyoung sits still, despite the wait for his reply. They all expected him to cheer and boost the atmosphere.. Yet nothing passed his lips.

“You’re not coming again, eh?” Tom breaks the silence once more, trying to look in his eyes for answers but to no avail, as his overgrown hair drapes over his face. Jinyoung shakes his head.

“Hey, you’ve been slouching all this time, shouldn’t you stretch? C’mon, it must be tiring. Loosen up a litle.” Tom tried to use the enthusiasm Jinyoung always used to and reach his hand over his shoulder. However before he knew it, his hand was squeezed with a strength he had never felt before. It felt as if his grip has restricted blood flowing into his hands, making them begin to numb.

Jinyoung’s gaze finally lifted over his sketchbook, and they finally got a glimpse of his face. His twitching eyes were an unusual shade of crimson red, each vein eeringly connecting from his sclera to the inside of his lower eyelid. Jinyoung always loved applying chapstick, loving the soft and glossy feeling upon his lips, except this time, they were chapped, with open, bleeding wounds and drool edging at the corner of his lips.

“I’m fine.” Jinyoung muttered, rubbing his tired, bloodshot eyes. No one muttered a word, staring with shock. What could they even say? Their friend — their once friend, as they could barely recognise the man he’s become — is now.. insane? Insane was the first word that came to mind to all of them. And all of them knew they weren’t far off.

….,

“Shingen. Haven’t you heard about that new clan has risen recently?” You ask, while raising your fork to your lips.

“Mmm. It seems so.” Shingen’s voice trails off, taking a sip of the transparent wine provided. “Perhaps it could be a problem. Especially since the Fist Gang and our clan are still under conflict… It is a relief we wasn’t arrested last time.”

“We’ve recovered well. Although a third party seems suspicious. Someone must be backing them, not every odd gang that shows up can be that strong and popular that quick.” You mention, and now that you think about it properly, hidden forces must at play here.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, huh? It won’t be a big deal. Like any other gang, they’ll fall to the hierarchy around here.” Shingen tries to reassure, using his authoritative tone to try and distract you from the concern written all over his face. He already knows they’re wiping out other small gangs and clan, then heading for the big prize. Nobody can be certain that they’re next, therefore it’s no prediction that they’re preparing their forces.

A third force making things complicated at a time like this cannot be a coincidence. At first, Shingen figured it must’ve been that cursed man’s Fist Gang, yet it’s unlikely they would. Someone’s pulling the strings behind the scenes, however there are no leads to show so. Only mere baseless intuition.

It makes you wonder — who? Each are loyal to their own side, especially during a tense time like this. They must’ve known a huge scale war between two major clans were going own, taking this into their advantage. Your eyes look down upon the food in front of you, then to your lover sitting opposite you.

Him, as a corpse? Dead, in front of you, his body cold. His pulse not throbbing anymore, breathe not passing his lips. Blood spilling under his body gallon by gallon, at an alarming rate. You could only cry as his eyes didn’t flutter open no more.

You’re overthinking again. Just another one of your tainted daydreams.

#lookism #shingen yamazaki #lookism x reader #lookism manhwa #yamazaki shingen x reader #lookism hcs #I hate series but I tried #lookism webtoon

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featherandferns · 10 months ago

Text

orange juice (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | inspired by noah kahn's incredible music

content warning: mentions of drinking and drug use; mentions of abuse; mentions of bodily harm (vague, non-graphic); sexual content | feel free to message me with questions of detail if any of this concerns you before reading!

word count: 7.5k

blurb: in the most unlikely of settings, you and JJ reunite after five years apart in radio silence.

“You know, on my way here, I saw a dead rat.”

A cloud of cigarette smoke dispels into the air.

“It was funny, you know? Cause I felt bad that it was dead, even though it was a rat. I mean, I knew nobody was going to miss it, and that it didn’t have any rat family or friends which would mourn it or anything. But still…It looked like it had been hit by a car, and it was only small so it didn’t look very old, and it seemed so harmless lying there. It probably had a million and one diseases, but just laying there, it seemed harmless. And it felt weird to be sad about this thing dying which would have only maybe caused more damage if it had stayed alive – nibbling through electrical wires and all that.”

JJ takes another drag of his cigarette as he digests the anecdote.

“Anyway. This just made me think of that,” you quietly finish before sinking back into the silence.

“Did you just compare my dad’s funeral to a dead rat?”

You clear your throat. JJ watches in his peripheral as you look down at your feet and fidget your fingers.

“Shit, I guess I did.”

His eyes cut ahead the moment yours seem to flick up.

“Can’t believe that’s the first thing I’ve said to you in years.”

JJ inhales and exhales the nicotine of his cigarette. “Well, I can.”

That makes you laugh. Small and sheltered.

“I weren’t sure that you were going to come,” JJ tells you.

“Could say the same thing to you,” you reply.

Sighing, he drops the cigarette and crushes it under the heel of his boot. He probably should have worn smarter shoes. But then, why would he? Waste of money and space in his truck. Not like his dad was going to see them anyway.

“I only decided yesterday. Practically drove all night.” As if reminding himself of the sleep deprivation, JJ lets out a yawn.

“How is it, being back in Kildare?” you wonder.

JJ shrugs. “Weird. But also not weird at all. I guess I just feel old. I was driving through town and everything looks different.”

“I mean, it has been five years.”

“Jesus,” JJ chuckles, shaking his head. Had it really been that long?

He shoves his hands in his pant pockets and finally finds the nerve to take you in. His eyes scan over you like one might survey potential damage to a car after a close call. He never lets them go below your waist though. As if losing nerve, he flicks them back up to your head and meets your eyes.

“You look well.”

“Thanks. Right back at ya,” you smile.

With that smile – sweet and simple – JJ finds himself being hurled back through time to his teen years. The reminiscing of his youth and the memories that your presence stirs up feels like reflecting on a past life. Something that he almost had, and something that he didn’t exactly lose, but something that changed.

Everything had changed, really. The streets that he used to drive down with his friends, running away from security and darting to and from keggers and house parties, they all had new homes, new paint, new families. Old mom-and-pop shops were now trendy smoothie spots and hippie bars. Empty plots of land that were a good spot to share a joint had now been bought and developed into stylish holiday rentals. None of JJ’s family was left here, not even his cousin. None of his friends were here anymore either. Well, except for you. Is that what you were to him? A friend?

“It was a nice service,” you say.

“Was it?”

For someone like Luke Maybank, ‘nice’ is probably a generous term for a funeral service that’s void of cheery anecdotes and tender memories. It’s a shame that all the memories JJ held in high regard of his father – of the moments that they were bonded and close – often came with the overarching theme of alcohol or drugs. He wasn’t sure there was ever a genuine moment shared between the two. Whatever praise and pride he gathered from his dad was short lived and sparse. When his dad left the island on the boat he stole, JJ never heard from him again. And now he never would.

“Did they ask if you wanted to say anything?”

“What’s there to say? He was a guy and he died in a bender. Short and simple, I guess.”

You nod and go silent once more.

JJ knows that his answer evaded the politeness markers of small talk, but it was true. Luke Maybank was a human who lived on this earth with no mark to be left apart from those which he laid on his own child. The only way that he’d be remembered was in the nightmares that still sometimes have JJ waking up in cold sweats and reaching for the box of cigarettes by his bed.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come,” you say.

“No, it’s not…” JJ shakes his head and offers you a smile, but he knows it looks unnatural. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling right now. Perhaps everything, if that’s even possible. “I’m glad you came. I’m just tired and…well, you know.”

The funeral of my father.

“Right. Of course.”

He watches you tuck your hair behind your ears and glance towards the graves. He remembers how you used to do that when you were both younger. It was funny to him: you’d go through the fuss of trying your hair back in one way or another, but you’d always leave out a couple of strands. “To frame my face” you’d tell him, and then you’d precede to spend the rest of the day tucking your hair behind your ears. He liked it though. When you’d be concentrating on something, like surfing or fixing something up or writing, you’d lean forward and they’d come lose and hang over your pretty features. He’d want to mess with them; tuck them behind your ears for you. Sometimes he did. He remembers when you’d be on top of him, kissing him senseless, and they’d come lose and tickle his face. Somehow it would make the whole thing more sensual, with his laughs and your giggles.

He feels his face flush as the memories of nights like those creep back into his head. He shouldn’t think of you like that, not after all this time. Not with how things turned out. And especially not at his father’s funeral.

JJ had come over to you once his father was safely tucked away in the ground, six feet under. You’d attended the service at the church, hiding near the back, and then the burial, and as everybody else departed to give JJ ‘a moment’ (whatever the hell that meant), he’d turned to find you stood near a bench, lost in thought.

“It was nice of you to come,” JJ thanks.

“I’m surprised none of the others are here.”

“They don’t know. I sort of kept it close to the chest,” JJ admits. “I’m actually impressed by the turnout.”

You go to laugh and JJ sees you stifle it. It helps him ease up, smile a real smile for a second, as wicked as that sounds.

“People have layers, I guess.”

“Not my dad.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

You meet his gaze again. Your eyes make it clear that you haven’t shed a tear and neither had JJ. He wasn’t sure if maybe that would come later, once the so-called shock had worn off. He doubted it though. And yet, there was a haze of sadness about him. Death is weird as a whole. The death of a parent like JJ’s, even weirder. Maybe it wasn’t just the funeral causing the sadness. Maybe it was you.

JJ makes a move to leave but before he can even shift his foot one whole step, you’re talking.

“Do you wanna come back to mine? We could catch up. I’m sure you’ve been doing all sorts since I last saw you. Maybe have a drink or two, for old times’ sake?”

“Oh, I don’t drink anymore.”

“Oh,” you say. A pause for thought, then, “well, I have orange juice.”

It’s a strange thing to offer in place of a bottle of beer or glass of wine. Most people would say a cup of coffee. But no - orange juice: that’s where your mind went. It makes JJ smile. It seems so on-par for you to offer him that.

“Okay. Sure. Orange juice sounds good.”

“Do you need a moment, before we leave?” you ask, glancing back over your shoulder to the gravesite of JJ’s deceased father.

The dirt atop of his plot is fresh and stark brown against the green grass. JJ stares a second. The groundkeeper is dusting some muck off the gravestone. The funeral director had offered him a fine granite with award winning chiselling, after recognising JJ from the articles of El Dorado and assuming some high-placed budget. JJ had opted for a simple thing though. Cheap and likely to be hard to read within half a decade. It’s what Luke deserved. Probably what he would have invested into JJ, if the roles were reversed.

“No, I don’t. We can go,” JJ says, voice vacant. He looks back to you. “I’ll drive.”

You don’t live in your childhood home anymore. The place that you’ve settled in is a small home in a sweet looking neighbourhood. In fact, it seems the only part of Kildare that feels familiar to JJ. The front garden is quaint but well kept, with trimmed grass and flower beds that clearly garner a lot of attention and care. The fence is in need of a lick of paint: the blue fading and peeling. A sticky note is attached to the door frame of the front door and it makes JJ smile. ‘Doorbell’s fucked – shout “ding dong” really loud’.

“This is a step up,” JJ says.

“Nice, right? My neighbour is a dick though. Always complaining that I leave my driveway light on in the middle of the night. As if I can even afford to that.”

JJ chuckles as he follows you inside. There’s an instant warm smell that hits him. JJ can’t seem to describe it in any other way than that it smells like you. The interior is safe and homely. The wallpaper and wooden floors pair nicely with the throw pillows and crystals and plants and flowers. Fairy lights are strung from end to end. A kitchen, open plan, feeds nicely into a sitting room. A dining table is tucked in the corner which seemingly functions more as a desk: books piled atop with sheets of paper strewn out. There’s a small corridor to the right and the walls are lined with framed pictures which JJ can’t make out from where he’s stood. He assumes it must lead to a bathroom and bedroom. It isn’t unlived in though. There’s a small pile of clothes which need ironing; they’re sat in a basket, next to the TV. Near the backdoor is an arts and crafts project of some kind strewn about on the floor in organised chaos, blocking the exit.

It's still early in the afternoon so you don’t bother flicking on a light, instead opting to soak in the last few hours of daylight before dusk. Kie used to compare you to a cat, basking in the sun and chasing the rays until there was none left to follow.

JJ closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“You can take your shoes off, if you want.”

“Alright,” he mumbles. He toes them off and kicks them to the side, amongst a pile of your own. He notices how there’s nobody else’s shoes there: just yours, and now his.

You pour out two glasses of orange juice and turn around, handing one to him. He takes it, lost in thought. It all feels surreal, stood here with you, after a five-year pause. When you go to the sofa to sit, he assumes he should follow. You sit on opposite ends. A part of him wonders why you haven’t stretched out your legs and dumped your feet in his lap. ‘These stink’, JJ jokes, poking your toes. You wiggle his fingers off. ‘Shut up, no they don’t.’ Force of habit: he always seems to get stuck on that past. Instead, you go to pull one of your legs up onto the sofa, and JJ flicks his eyes around the room another time. He sips his juice.

“So…” You start. “Any news?”

“Well, my dad died, so there’s that.”

You kick out your leg, aiming for his thigh. “Come on now. Be serious.”

“I am; you were at the funeral. Thought you might remember that,” JJ jokes.

Rolling your eyes mirthfully, you have a sip of your juice. The sun paints shapes on the coffee table, weaving through the thin curtains that line your window. It makes your skin glow, healthy and happy. He’s torn between staring at your face and remembering every detail of your features and avoiding you completely.

“When did you move in here? It’s nice.”

“About two years ago. Mom and dad are still at the old place. They’ve rented out my room though, for tourists and stuff.”

“That’s nice of them,” JJ snorts. “How’s your brother? Is he doing good?”

“He is. He’s at college actually. Graduates later this year.”

“The fuck? That’s so trippy,” JJ mumbles, almost to himself.

JJ can remember your brother as nothing more than a preteen, sulking around the house and begging for rides to soccer practice. Now he’s nearly got a whole ass degree. His eyes naturally fixate on the dining-table-come-desk in the corner.

“What do you do for work then?”

“I’m a teacher at Kildare high.”

Of course you are. JJ smiles, eyes still fixated on the table. It seems to prompt you to continue.

“It’s kinda weird sometimes cause some of the old farts still work there,” you say.

“Oh shit. Mr Rumble still there?” JJ asks, perking up a little, meeting your gaze.

You laugh. “Mr Rummel does still work there, yeah. Still likes to bring you up to me, actually.”

“Really? In what way?”

“Just likes to add the odd little ‘you remember when your boyfriend used to steal my stapler’ kinda things.”

JJ’s laugh is different this time. The word ‘boyfriend’ coming out of your mouth has his thoughts short circuiting. You glance down at your juice and swirl it around the cup.

“Anyway, it’s a pretty good gig. I like teaching, and I actually think I’m making a difference to some of these kids lives sometimes, which is sort of strange.”

“I bet you are. You were always good at helping people,” JJ tells you. Your smile turns soft.

“Thanks, JayJ.”

The nickname is like another sucker punch to the chest. JJ takes it like a champ. Washes it down with water; pretends there’s vodka in there somewhere.

“How are the others, then?” you ask. “How are they?”

“Good. Happy. John B and Sarah are expecting a kid soon.”

“Fuck off.”

“No joke,” JJ laughs. He leans back into the sofa, reclining in the soft throw pillows. It’s strange how easily relaxed he is in this new setting. “They’re debating between two names. Esmeralda or Eton.”

“No. Please God, tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish,” JJ snorts. “Not that I got much of a leg to stand on.”

“What do you mean?” you frown. You lean over and place your juice down on the coffee table.

“JJ? Kinda dumb name.” JJ has a sip of his own before mirroring your actions.

“Hardly. ‘John James’ is pretty proper sounding to me.”

“Meh.” JJ shrugs and props an arm up on the back of the sofa.

“What about Kie, and Pope?”

“Kie is on her environmentalist shit. Investing in rebuilding the coral and things. Pope is studying like crazy. Got a good job lined up too.”

“Only Pope would get a degree when he has literal gold in his savings,” you chuckle. “Didn’t you buy a shop too, or something?”

“A little surf shop with John B, yeah,” JJ nods, smiling proud. The surf shop is something that he would always take pride in. What felt like a pipedream was now his nine-to-five. “It’s doing real good, actually. We’re thinking about expanding.”

“Well, that’s good,” you say, nodding. The two of you lock eyes. Your smile holds steady. “I’m happy for you, JJ. Really.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you’re doing good, too.”

And now the polite small talk is over and the catch-up is done. It’s so bizarre seeing someone again after so long. So many things in life have passed – relationships, jobs, fights, conversations, achievements, ailments – but when you finally come to sum it up, it only takes ten minutes. Going through a heartbreak lasts for months, but then a year later and the relationship is summed up in a sentence or two. Time doesn’t only heal, but it also shrinks. It seems to have shrunk whatever used to exist between yourself and JJ too, as you both sit, searching for things to talk about which avoid the dark and ugly. Things which avoid the obvious.

“Do you think you’ll stick around in Kildare for a bit?”

“I don’t know. I ain't really thought about it,” JJ admits. “I weren't even sure if I was gonna go to the funeral.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” you wonder.

He laughs to himself and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I have no idea. Probably just crash in my truck.”

“You’re loaded as fuck and you’re gonna crash in your truck?” you laugh. It isn’t mean when you say it. Just amused.

“I don’t know. You don’t really get used to having money when you grew up without it. I still feel guilty buying a new pair of boots or something when my old ones ain't coming apart at the soles and shit.”

You nod. “That makes sense. Eminem had a similar thing.”

“Yeah, I’ve always thought me and Eminem were similar,” JJ deadpans.

It seems to strike well with you because you’re cracking up, laughing like he’s just told the best joke you’ve ever heard. He smiles. He always liked making you laugh. You have a horrendous laugh: truly awful. Cats in a bag being bashed against the wall-howling dog parade level of terrible. JJ loved it though. He used to tickle you just to hear it. Watching you now, head titled back, eyes shut and mouth agape, guffawing like a damn hyena…He feels like throwing up.

“Sorry, that…That was good,” you chuckle, wiping your eyes and catching your breath. “You were always good at making me laugh.”

“Fuck knows why,” JJ chuckles.

“Cause you’re funny,” you reply, as if its obvious. “You were always funny.”

It’s strange how the tone of the conversation rises and falls like a mountain range the longer the two of you sit on the sofa.

Your smile turns sombre, like when someone reminisces over a funny memory of their dead pet. Nice at first, amused, and then dampened with the reminder that those times have passed.

“It’s weird, to be honest. You’re so different now but you’re also still JJ.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You glance around the room for a moment, as if you’d find the answer hidden in code on the spine of the books stacked on the windowsill. You look at him again. “Your face looks different.”

“It does?” JJ asks. He lifts a hand and strokes his jaw. He could do with a shave, he supposes. The vanity tries to bite through to ask how, but before he can, you’re talking again.

“You don’t drink,” you add, nodding to the orange juice still sat on the coffee table. “You’re quieter. Less…”

You seem to lose the words and so you gesture with your hands. Explosion.

“Calmer. Sadder, but not sad.”

“I can’t tell if these are good things or not,” JJ says, half-joking.

“You look at me different too.”

That makes him pause. He meets your eyes and holds your gaze, steady. The whole room shifts in a moment, from carefree catch-up to tense confrontation.

“Different?”

“Yeah. You look at me different.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” JJ mutters, going to reach for his drink.

“Yes, you do, JJ.”

Your smile is gone now. He can tell, catching it from his peripheral. Suddenly he doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want to be in Kildare, doesn’t want to be in this house, in this room.

“You could at least acknowledge it, you know?”

“I don’t understand—”

“It’s actually more rude to not acknowledge it,” you snip.

“I’m not being rude, I’m just making conversation. You’re the one who’s got me on blast like you’re some God damn therapist,” JJ hits back, meeting your steely stare.

“You feel like you’re on blast?”

“I feel like I’m being observed, that’s for fucking sure.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe you are being observed, JJ,” you return, voice harsh and cutting like how a blade slices through paper. “Because it’s fucking weird having you back.”

“You’re the one that invited me here.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” you say.

JJ takes a breath and closes his eyes. The anger never went away, despite what you’ve just told him, he just got older. Got better at hiding it. Got enough money to try therapy. He takes another moment to breathe through it. Push it down his throat and back into his stomach and let it burn out in the acid.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly say. The venom is gone. “I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.”

He isn’t sure why – can’t pinpoint a perfect reason behind it – but behind his eyelids, JJ feels tears swell. Feels his lips twitch like a child when they hit their funny bone. His next breath in is shaky.

“JJ?”

“Just…”

His voice cracks and he clears it, shaking his head. He wants to open his eyes but he’s scared he’ll start crying, and he’s not doing that, not right now, not today. It’s not even you. You’d seen him cry before. Held him through it and patched him up; made him smile after the sadness. But he refuses to cry today because he can’t give his dad that satisfaction, even if it’s not about him. Opening his eyes, no tears escape. He reaches for the juice and downs it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he snaps. Then, softer, “please.”

You nod. There’s a quiet. Then, you move to stand and he closes his eyes again because it’s a struggle for you to stand. It’s a struggle. He rubs a hand over his mouth as if trying to shove the welling emotions back inside. There’s the sound of running water in the background as JJ tries to gather himself. The crack-crack-crack of a gas stove turning on and then the clink of metal on metal. You’ve put the kettle on, boiling water. There’s the tinker of porcelain mugs being taken off a stand. He seems to zone in on the peaceful sounds of you making coffee.

When you pour water into the mugs, he remembers the sound of your voice years back. ‘Did you know humans have the ability to hear the difference between hot and cold water being poured?’ ‘Why the fuck do you know that?’ ‘I don’t know. Just thought it was interesting.’

As the teaspoon repeatedly brushes against the inside of the cup as you stir in the instant coffee and milk, JJ finally feels all the emotions even out. As your footsteps make their way back over to him, you flick on the lamp by the front door. JJ opens his eyes to see you place a steaming cup of Joe in front of him on the coffee table. The mug is cute. It’s peach pink and says “I’m drinking tea instead of committing crimes” on the front in an innocent type-writer print.

“Cute mug.”

“Thanks. Thought of you.”

He silently laughs. You sit closer to him this time and your mug sits next to his. There’s no funny quote written across the paint. Then your hand is on his back, barely rubbing him, and it hits JJ that this is the first time you’ve touched him in five years.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry,” you tell him. “It ain’t my place to say any of that. Especially not today.”

“It’s true, though. That’s the kicker, ain’t it? That it’s true,” JJ replies.

He sighs and leans back, sitting upright once more. Your hand falls away and you clasp it in the other in your lap. He glances down and takes in your side profile. That stupid piece of hair has come lose again, fallen in your face. He distracts his twitching fingers by twisting one of his rings.

“I’m okay, you know,” you tell him. You look up and meet his eyes. Yours are damp with emotion, just like his were moments earlier. “I’m really okay.”

“You almost weren’t though.”

“Is that the problem? That I almost wasn’t?”

“It’s not the problem. You were never a problem.”

“I ain't mean it like that,” you tell him. You shake your head and JJ isn’t entirely sure why. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Am I the reason that you left Kildare?”

A bird calls outside and JJ seems to latch onto it like a lifeline. That question makes him feel stranded and scared. He wasn’t ready for it despite being fully prepared.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I…It ain't that simple.”

“Can you explain it to me, maybe?” you wonder. There’s no wrath to your tone anymore – no vendetta against him. There’s just curiosity and care, and this wonderful tenderness that JJ always associated with you from day one, when you offered him your cap to keep his hair off his face.

“I didn’t like the person I was in Kildare.”

“Okay,” you quietly say.

“I didn’t like how I acted. I didn’t like how reckless I was, and how I didn’t care who got hurt in the process.”

“Like me?”

JJ swallows. He doesn’t tear his eyes from yours though. “Yeah. Like you.”

“Okay,” you repeat, quieter still, nodding.

“After El Dorado, coming back here, everything felt tainted. I just…I needed to escape it. My dad and my past and…And you. I couldn’t face it. I felt like I’d caused some freak accident and had gotten away, and then I'd come back to face the aftermath and I just couldn’t stomach it. I just ran.”

You nod.

“I just ran,” he hears himself repeat. “And I’m not proud of it. Of any of it.”

“Okay.”

“And I wanted to fix things, but I didn’t know how. Every time I thought of coming back to Kildare, or picking up the phone, or going on Instagram and finding you…I just got so fucking scared, like a stupid shithead kid. I was so scared of becoming the guy I was again.”

And, again, you nod. When he doesn’t continue, you fill the space. “How long have you been sober?”

“The minute I left Kildare.”

“Fuck.”

“Cold turkey. It sucked ass. It still does. You don’t miss it any less. I miss the rage too, sometimes. I miss my dad sometimes, too. Miss him beating on me. How fucked up is that? That I miss him beating on me?”

You don’t seem to know what to say to that. You just look down at the coffee mugs and watch how the steam is slowly but surely going away.

“I am sorry. I know that ain't worth anything, but I am sorry.”

“It is worth something.” You clear your throat, voice coming out stronger when you say, “It’s worth everything.”

Your smile comes back, timid and tiny. You meet eyes for the millionth time that night.

“It feels like I’ve been ready for you to come back, for so long, and now you’re actually here and…I don’t even know where to start.” He watches your tongue dart out and wet your lips. “I wasn’t expecting you to look so good.”

“Disappointed?”

“Massively. I would have got my ass in the gym more if I knew it was a Goddamn competition.”

JJ smiles. “You were always a sore loser.”

“Says you,” you snort.

There’s another peak in the conversation after the long slug of the last dip. It’s so bizarre. So wonderfully bizarre.

“I’m proud of you, for getting sober. Do you feel better for it?”

“Depends.”

“Well, you look better for it,” you say.

“You’re drooling, I think,” JJ teases, reaching a finger out to prod your cheek.

Rolling your eyes, you mirthfully bat his hand away. “You’re hallucinating.”

“Well, withdrawal does crazy things,” he quips back.

You chuckle and shake your head. “I missed you like crazy.”

“I miss you too.”

Your lips part a little with that. Miss. You seem to hesitate to hold his gaze then, like it’s too intense. JJ feels as though he can see every emotion flash across your face in a second, like watching a car crash in slow motion. Surprise, shock, joy, anger, then sadness. It’s that sadness that hammers hard when you speak, voice weak.

“You left without saying anything, JJ. For five years. You just left me.”

“Don’t make it sound like that. Like I abandoned you.”

“But you did,” you whisper. The tears are back. You’ve both fallen from the top of the mountain. “You abandoned me.”

“You don’t get it,” JJ replies, voice suddenly thick.

“I was in it with you.”

“You didn’t see it,” JJ forces out. His tears are falling: they didn’t wait this time. “You didn’t see how it looked – how you looked. You looked so fucking fragile and tiny and small and your leg was so bent and twisted and black – it was black – and I thought you were already dead.”

Your breathing is shaky and broken. The two of you sit on your sofa in the sunset, eyes locked, tears streaming, chests heaving like you’ve run a marathon. The word ‘dead’ hangs in the air and haunts the room.

“I thought you were dead, and I thought it was because of me.”

“Do you hate me for it?”

“Why the fuck would I—”

“Because I didn’t die? Do you hate me for it?”

JJ blinks back his bewilderment. He physically shifts back in his seat, as if you just spat in his face. Horrified, he tells you, “Of course I don’t. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because I’m still here, JJ. But you acted like I wasn’t for five years. You didn’t even come see me in the hospital. Didn’t sit with me in the ambulance. Hell, you can’t even look at my leg now! You think I didn’t notice? At the graveyard, and now. You think I can’t see it on your face?”

JJ whispers your name in a tearful plea. Stop.

“I’m still here, JJ. And I invited you back here, and I went to the funeral, because I wanted to see you.”

“To show me what I did?” JJ asks, harsher than needed.

You hold his gaze. “To show you I’m okay.”

He shakes his head, insistent. “It was my fault. If I hadn’t been drinking and if I’d been thinking straight, I would have never let you jump off the bike like that. It was fucking reckless and stupid and I would never, ever do it again. It was all my fault.”

“I don’t care who’s fault it was, JJ,” you whisper. Your hand reaches out and traces his cheek and jaw, and he can’t help but lean into your warm touch. There you sit, cradling his face as if he was the victim in this whole thing. It calms him almost immediately. “Nobody forced me on that bike. Nobody forced me to jump, not even you.”

“I shouldn’t have let you.”

“JJ,” you sigh.

He closes his eyes as you shift in your spot, and somehow you end up with your forehead pressed against his. He reaches out one of his hands for the other of yours that rests in your lap and he clenches it, tight. You’re both still crying but they’re silent tears now.

“I forgive you, JJ.”

He shakes his head whilst you nod.

“Yes, I do, I forgive you. I always have. You know why?”

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

“Because you were dealt the shitest hand I’ve ever known and look who you are. You’re sober, and you're healthy, and you have loving friends and a steady income and a job which you love, and a boathouse, and so much of your life left. And you didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t kill me, JJ. You didn’t even lose me.”

“I don’t—”

“We’re more than our mistakes.”

When JJ opens his eyes, you pull back enough to let him meet your gaze. As if you know what he’s about to ask, you smile. That smile…JJ feels like he’s coming home.

“You’re more than your mistakes, JJ.”

The moment his lips slot against yours, tentative and hesitant, like a bird exploring new ground for the first time, he’s home. There’s hardly a moment of reluctance, of confusion and mismatch from the time passed, before you’re kissing him back. The softness of your lips against his and the brush of your tongue. The sigh in your voice and the tilt of your head. It’s so seamless and sweet and safe. JJ feels safe here, with you. He feels like all the shit doesn’t matter. He feels like sober might actually be synonymous with happiness, with you. When he lies you down on the sofa, JJ doesn’t want to leave this room, this house, or Kildare. He wants to stay here, worshipping you, breathing you in until you consume all of his senses, because after five years, nothing has made him feel as alive as this. As you.

Everything is a wonderful illusion of being rushed and well-paced all at once. He revels in the way your skin gives gently beneath the scrape of his teeth. When he sucks at your throat, the skin is so delicate, and this close to you JJ can smell nothing but your perfume. He wants to fucking drown in it.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he pants. You’re gasping too. Fingers sliding through his hair, down his sides, along his face.

“I missed you,” you whine.

And that phrase gets repeated over and over like a mantra or a prayer. He hears himself whispering it against your skin with every button he undoes on your blouse. Basks in the sound of your voice, older and mature but still you, as you say it whilst pushing his dress shirt off his shoulder.

There’s a stalling pause when his fingers finish tracing down your stomach to your pants. You seem to notice it. Your hand comes to his face and thumbs at his cheek. They’re still sticky from dried tears.

“JJ,” you whisper, coaxing his attention back to your face. You’re glowing. You’re happy, you’re healthy, and you’re here. “It’s okay.” Nodding, you repeat. “It’s okay.”

Then, he watches your own fingers land on the button of your pants, slowly undoing it. Then the other and the third until they’re lose. He watches you wriggle out of them, pulling them down, struggling somewhat from the tight position on the sofa. Watches the scars emerge, faint but clear, and how they grow and spread like ivy on the side of a house. They merge with the cellulite and stretch marks. With a random bruise you must’ve gotten from hitting your leg on the table the other day. They’re a part of you – plain and simple. At the knee, there’s the connection for your prosthetic right leg. Once your trousers are off, JJ finds himself reaching out to touch it. This thing that he was partly responsible for, this marvel of medicine, the reason you can walk. He loves it and hates it desperately all at once. Glancing back up to your face, you’re watching him just as carefully as he was watching you. But you’re smiling.

“You’re okay,” JJ finds himself saying quietly. Because you are. You’re here, laying almost bare before him, just like you had years before.

“It’s rude to make a girl wait, JJ,” you tease.

With that, JJ’s smile is blossoming back like the returning of spring flowers following a brutal winter. He leans forward and catches himself above you with his arms, kissing you like you’re all the oxygen in the world. Your left leg rubs at his calf, still covered by his trousers, and you giggle against his mouth.

“Fuck, I missed this,” you say. “I missed you.”

“How much?”

“So much,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What’d you miss?” JJ persists, kissing down your neck.

“Your mouth,” you say through a moan. His hands slip behind your back and unclasp your bra. You arch your back enough for him to tug it off.

“My mouth?” he wonders, breathing it against your skin. You’re practically writhing. JJ laughs. “What about my mouth?”

“Don’t be a jackass, JJ,” you mutter.

“You want my mouth?”

“Yes,” you quietly beg.

“You do?” he checks, kissing over your breast, sucking at your nipple. “Where do you want it?”

“You fucking know where,” you sigh, impatience shining through.

He grins at the sudden hitch of your moan as he softly nips at the sensitive skin around your nipple. Then he’s kissing down your stomach until finally his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He slowly, tauntingly, pulls them down. You kick them off at the ankles, a clear act of frustration, and he bites back his laugh.

“What? Here?” JJ plants a kiss to your hipbone. “You want my mouth here? Or…”

Another kiss, to your pelvic bone.

“Here?”

“Fuck you, Maybank.”

“You wanna?”

“I swear to fucking God,” you huff, laughing through the annoyance.

With that, JJ settles himself between your legs and praises you like you deserve to be. The noises you make are downright evil, considering he can do nothing about it and has to hold it together. You taste so familiar on his tongue.

“Fucking missed you,” he groans against you.

When he sucks on your clit, your hands latch into his hair. Your back is arching and you’re gasping and panting and desperate, and JJ feels like a young God. Pulling back, he slips a finger into your hole and it welcomes him so easily. He cusses at how wet you are.

“Come on baby. Come on, I know you’re close.”

The tells of your body haven’t changed since the last time you two were in this position. The way your mouth hangs open in a silent moan when you fall over the edge is so surreal to see after five years apart. He feels you spasms around him and basks in the scratch of your nails against his scalp as you try to ground yourself. He hardly has time to suck his fingers clean before your pulling his mouth to yours and kissing him stupid.

“Fucking missed you,” you repeat against his mouth, making him laugh. “Nobody fucks me as good as you.”

“Jesus Christ, you can’t say shit like that,” JJ chuckles. “Won’t last.”

“Don’t care,” you say. “Only thing bigger than your ego is your dick.”

JJ can’t help but laugh at that. He loves your giggles in response. And then your hands are shoving at his trousers and the humour is gone, replaced with nothing but raw lust and desperation. There’s nothing performative about it, when the two of you hurry to strip his clothes away as soon as possible. He takes note to get his socks off. You’d always had a weird thing about it, sex in socks, and nothing was going to taint this night. Not after so long.

Being inside you…JJ missed it more than all the alcohol and weed in the world. Nothing compared to the feeling of you clenching around him. The vice of your leg hitched up and over his back as he grips into your thigh, mean and firm, perfecting the angle. The senseless, endless whines falling from your agape mouth, eyes closed tight, lost in the feeling of it. JJ wants nothing to be less than perfect for you, for this. Every stroke, every kiss, every clench of his fingers…it all has to be perfect. He knows when you’re close and he’s more than fucking relieved. It’s taking everything in him not to come. He needs you to fall over the edge first.

“Do the thing,” you whine. “Do the thing, John.”

With that, JJ remembers five years back, to late nights and later mornings spent rolling in bed with you. He bites into his lip, holding back his shit-eating grin as the memories flood back, and he leans forward to your ear. Gently taking the lobe within his teeth, he croons into the shell of your ear.

“That’s my good fucking girl.”

And finally, you fall apart, taking JJ with you like you always would.

When the high finally passes and the endorphins settle down, the two of you are laying on the sofa, only covered by a throw blanket JJ had dragged down from the back of the sofa. You’ve somehow shuffled so you’re laying mostly atop of him. His arms are locked around your damp stomach like a vice, nose nestled into your hair, just behind your ear, breathing you in with every inhale.

“Will you stay in Kildare, just for a short while? For me?”

JJ wants to laugh but he knows how wrong that would be in this moment. The humour doesn’t come from the question, but from the notion that he’d leave after finally having you back in his life, safe and happy, after five long years.

“Anything,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. Anything for you.

“You look like shit by the way,” JJ says.

His hands are warm in his cargo pant pockets. Head tilted down and gaze steady, he sighs.

“Guess you didn’t have chance to clean up though, right?”

Shockingly, the gravestone says nothing back. Well, says nothing asides form Luke Maybank in barely legible font.

It still feels surreal, that his dad is gone. That they’d never remedy anything, or even attempt to fix their relationship. That JJ wouldn’t be able to face him and show him what he’d become. How he’d risen past it all and grown from the pain and the agony. That he’d taken the shitty hand that he was dealt and turned it into nothing but flushes and full houses. That he hadn’t grown into a petty criminal or a tax-evading lowlife, but a strong, good-willed, well-intentioned man. The thought, bittersweet at heart, makes him smile.

“I’m happy dad. I know you probably hate that, being dead and all, but I am.”

As if on cue, there’s the high pitch giggles from afar that catch JJ’s attention. He glances over to spot you and your wonderful mini-you, sitting on your shoulders, waving at him. He waves back, small and short, smiling.

“I’m glad you never met her,” JJ tells his dad, never tearing his eyes away from the pair of you. You ease her off your shoulders and take her hand, pointing to a small bed of daffodils. “I was so scared I’d be bad at this. I was so scared that I’d be like you.”

She’s so fragile as she picks a flower free from the bunch, holding it by the stem, up to you. You nod and presumably smile in approval.

“But I’ll never be like you. She’ll never know what it feels like to live in fear,” JJ states, firmly. He looks back down to the grave. “I’m not your mistakes, and I’m not mine.”

He lowers to a squat and wipes some of the dirt off the stone, revealing the dates. “Happy birthday, dad. You suck, and I hope you’re finally at peace.”

“Daddy, daddy…”

There’s an insistent tug at his jacket sleeve. JJ smiles and looks down at the best mistake he ever made. Mistake is a strong word. ‘Oops, I think is better’, you’d said when you first showed him the pregnancy test.

“What’s up, bub?”

“I found this flower. Can I give it to papa?”

JJ takes the daffodil and glances to the grave. A brief moment of anger passes over him like the breeze of winter. He doesn’t deserve this. He isn’t your papa. I’m glad he’s dead. But he closes his eyes and breathes. Your hand squeezing gently at his shoulder tells him you’re there. It helps ground him.

“Yeah, bub. I think that’d be nice,” he smiles, handing it back.

She giggles as she puts it on the grass just before the stone. Her laughter is brighter and louder still when JJ scoops her up as he stands, looping her around him until she’s a backpack.

“You wanna get ice cream?”

“Hell yeah,” you whoop.

“Hell yeah!” mini-you copies. JJ laughs.

“Alrighty, lets go.”

As the three of you make the small walk back to the car, you intertwine your fingers with JJ’s, holding his hand tight and secure. JJ takes one last glance back at the gravestone. It all began here, in a way, the re-introduction to a life he thought he’d lost. Perhaps the nicest thing JJ’s dad ever did, the kindest act he ever performed, was dying. Perhaps that was his way of paying him back for all the crap he gave.

“Hey.”

JJ glances down at you.

“You okay?”

He smiles. Then, he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Everything is going to be okay.

#JJ #JJ Maybank #JJ x reader #JJ Maybank x reader #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #outer banks #outerbanks #outer banks jj #outerbanks jj #outer banks jj x reader #outerbanks jj x reader #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic

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sarahreesbrennan · 2 months ago

Note

I remember reading in one of your blog entries (years ago??) that in the new book you were writing, the main character's *sister* had cancer. Does that mean that Alice was originally the main character of Long Live Evil? Was she going to go into the book to save Rae, instead of Rae going in to save herself?

How extremely kind of you to remember!

No, that was actually a YA murder mystery that I wrote while ill, revised while recovering, and sent out into the world where it died on submission. (Which means we sent it out to about 12 editors and the editor either said no, or said yes and took it to acquisitions - a group of people at the publisher including sales and marketing - and acquisitions said no.)

One editor told me she really wanted and really tried to buy it. Another person who worked in publishing (and has since changed jobs, or I wouldn’t share this) said the response at her acquisitions was - if you like this writer, find the next her (implications about health and youth were made).

I was terrified my agent was going to ditch me too, but she said ‘We’ll sell that one day, for now let’s write the next thing.’

I remember another writer telling me she missed my work that wasn’t a tie-in, and I felt ashamed to tell her it wasn’t that I wasn’t writing other things - it was that I couldn’t publish them.

The tie-ins meanwhile were paying the bills (they still are tbh!) and I was and remain so grateful for them. But I also really loved writing them - especially my Sabrina tie-ins, you don’t forget the first, and it reminded me I want to write horror and poly one day - and how they got me to love and sympathise with so many fandoms.

I see the burnout of caregivers all around me, and I wanted to write the story of one. But maybe I also wanted to take a step back from cancer. I didn’t think I did, at the time. I had a whole lot of things I tried writing before Long Live Evil, and I think some of them were really good. One of my critique partners gave me a lipstick with the same name as someone in the murder mystery. There was a romance novel another critique partner said was her favourite thing I’d ever written. But none had someone with cancer at the heart of the story.

And even though Rae isn’t much like me, maybe I had to start there. You can’t make real magic using someone else’s liver. Maybe I had to wait to be brave enough to use my own liver.

I do get requests for advice on how to cope with rejection of your writing, and I always worried I didn’t have anything else to say, but I suppose my example says - if you can, (and I know it’s hard, you feel so terrible at writing and so useless) (and you love the work you’ve done so much and you don’t see a way forward to loving the next thing) (but still, if you possibly can) write the next thing.

Even if the first thing sells, you’ll want the next thing one day. Writing the next thing is more writing practise, so it’ll make you better. Write the next thing.

Ultimately I’m really glad Long Live Evil was my comeback book. I think it needed to be. It took the time it took.

But maybe it was a shade of that past book (where the heroine’s sister with cancer was six, so not much like any of the Time of Iron characters) that made me think of the YA version of this book, which I always had in my mind as something I was intentionally hewing away from - a more straightforward book, a book that might have sold better - in which shy reader Alice was the hero. She’s the one with the suggestive hero name - Alice through the looking glass - the heroine looks, and the more projectable-upon personality. She’d get called annoying less often (though still some, because she’s a girl), partly because she is (with love, Rae knows I’m right) a genuinely less annoying person. Much kinder, much sweeter, and much better at in-depth reading! Her sister being in trouble would’ve been a backstory, a catalyst point, and - you’re totally right - a great motivation for her to get the Flower. Saving a family member is a much more sympathetic and heroic motivation than saving yourself and one I do love (the Hunger Games, Labyrinth, Mahy’s the Changeover, and I write it a lot!). I think Snarky While Tragically Dying Rae would’ve been a pretty popular side character, too. I think it would’ve been a good book! Just not mine.

I love your question because I love thinking about POV, and all the decisions that are the building blocks of a story. To me, the Alice centric Time of Iron is a version that exists. As are several versions of the Lia centric Time of Iron. And versions centring other characters exist to me, too. (Eric, absolutely.)

Speaking of POV musing, I think Rahela the wicked stepsister featured more in the musical than the book. If the Time of Iron series ever became a TV show (and at this point in time I think I’d rather a movie because it wouldn’t… get cancelled…) and I got to write it (don’t know why I would…) I would start with the beginnings for three characters about to go on a journey to somewhere strange to them: Key in the Cauldron, Rae in the hospital, and Vasilisa in the icelands. There are so many possibilities! And I really wanted the sense that there were so many possibilities, too.

But I wanted the chronically ill one to be the centre of the story, and for it to be her villain origin story, and to ask a lot of questions (hence a lot of villains!) about who gets villainised and why. And I thought hers, to my mind, would be the most fun of all the possible stories.

So that’s the one I made. But Long Live Evil has a lot of origins. Thank you for remembering one of them! I don’t think I would’ve dared tell the story, if things hadn’t worked out for me (so far, fingers crossed).

And I also tell it to be clear my publisher was taking a RISK with me and Long Live Evil, and I really appreciate that, and I’m so happy it’s worked out for them (again so far, early days, fingers crossed, etc).

I hope some writers - whether in the process of submission, rejection or making the choices that are the building blocks of story - find this helpful, and some readers find it interesting.

Let this be one of the universes in which your story is told.

#publishing #writing tips #villains #cancer #epic fantasy #isekai #Long live evil #alice in wonderland #labyrinth #the hunger games #the changeover #chilling adventures of sabrina

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lowkeyerror · 7 months ago

Text

The Family Business Ch.14

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Ch. Notes: Angst, action, gun violence, character death

Summary: Things quickly escalate as Fisk tries to end the struggle for power once abd for all.

An: ... So it's been a minute. Sorry about that and frankly idk when the next update will be, hopefully sooner. However, whatever you thinks going to happen here, I don't think you'll see this coming.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wilson Fisk didn’t often smile. He was a sad and angry man that did his best to keep a neutral scowl on his face. What was there to smile about when he had lost everything. His wife, his daughter, his freedom, all irreplaceable. Being in prison while his wife and daughter were being buried is an ache that will never truly get over.

The void inside of him can only be filled by power and control. He will have the city and he will claim it for all that he has lost. He knew that to be a irrefutable fact.

Now, his smile was something straight out of a nightmare. It sat lopsided on his round face. It was there and it was horrifying. His smile only widens as he heard hushed voice over his phone.

When the line goes dead, he claps his hands together. He leans back in his desk chair. The smile doesn’t leave his features.

“Sleeping beauty has opened his eyes.”

Plans change at a wits notice, and things pivot, but goals could still be accomplished. Fisk wants Dragos gone and like a shark surrounding an injured surfer he smells blood in the water. It is time for him to strike.

Bowling was the activity that you came up with. Something in a place full of people, something that you enjoyed much in your youth, something that Pietro was unequivocally skilled at.

“Another strike ladies are you even trying?” Pietro gloats after looking at the scoreboard.

You might’ve been putting in a decent amount of effort, Wanda as well, but the two of you could tell Natasha was handing the man the win.

“Natasha, maybe take him down a peg,” you whisper in her ear.

“I thought we were supposed to be cheering him up, lisichka,” she taunts you with a smile.

“He can be happy without his ego being stroked,” Wanda puffs out in annoyance.

Natasha laughs at their bitterness, but nonetheless when it was her turn she quickly bowled a strike.

“Let’s go Natty,” you clap for her and Wanda let’s out a whistle.

“Is this where I realize you've been letting me win all night,” Pietro pouts.

Nat plops her hand on his shoulder, “I’m afraid so."

You all share a laugh and for moment everything feels normal. You could almost forget your ties and affiliations and feel like normal people. The moments were becoming more present in your life to the domestic nature of your relationship with Wanda and Natasha.

By now you should’ve known that sitting in any of those feelings did you no good.

When your phone rings you answer it immediately.

“Hello?”

“Y/n you will get through this. Do not let this be the end of what we’ve worked for, you don’t- you don’t need me malysh.”

“Papa? You’re awake, what are you you-”

“Y/N! Listen please, just take care of our family. I called you because, I trust you.”

As he speaks on the phone you gather Wanda, Pietro, and Natasha urgently. You have to go, it’s urgent. They can tell you’re shaken and when you put the phone on speaker they understand.

“Papa I don’t understand,” your voice trembles as you speak.

“Tell Flora, that my love with her doesn’t end with my last breath. Tell my Pietro that he’s the heart of all of this. Tell Wanda that all I want from her is for her to be happy.”

Natasha is the one that ushers you all into the car as you begin to shut down slightly.

“You can’t do this to us again papa,” your voice cracks in the end.

“It’s out of my hands,” you can hear fear in his voice and it terrifies you.

You hear a dark chuckle in the background of the call, “He’s right you know, it’s not in his hands.”

The smile in Fisk’s voice is present and it scares you, but you bluff the man.

“Haven’t you already made this play before, and it didn't work out for you did it?”

“Only because you interfered, and I got you back pretty significantly for that didn't I, sweetheart?”

Your jaw clenches, “Fisk , take a moment to think, really think what you're about to do. We are already enemies, in competition for control of the city, but that’s just business. Every move you’ve made recently has been personal. Going to war over turf it’s respectable, but if we go to war over family, there’s only one way this ends.”

“This is why I enjoy you so much kid, you have such an intelligent mind. Even under pressure you string together the right words. However, you’ve got it all wrong. There’s always only been one way this is going to end,” you hear the sound of the gun clicking.

“We will leave the city, just don't shoot him,” Pietro finds his voice.

You, Wanda, and Natasha look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“I didn't know we had guests on the phone with us, what a surprise. Keep talking little Maximoff, I like what you're offering.”

Pietro begins spewing nonsense, “We will disappear from New York and never come back. We will cut all ties with city and anything in it. It will be yours for the taking. Please, just don’t shoot him.”

“Anyone else want to beg for his life?”

Wanda’s mouth opens and closes a few times as her eyes water. You take the initiative instead.

“Wilson, you lost your family. Your wife and daughter were taken from you. Good people caught in the crossfire of your criminal actions. Who helped you get back on your feet after you got out of jail ? Who kept a corner of New York for you? Who gave you a jump start on your way back to this lifestyle? Who was there for you? The history between the two of you isn’t as convoluted as you’re making it out to be.”

Kingpin takes a pause, “That’s in the past.”

“It’s only history because you are making it that way. We have made a good relationship between our businesses until recently,” you keep him on the phone.

Natasha’s only about 5 minutes from the hospital, you just need to stall a bit longer.

“I’m not a beggar or a dog, Y/Ln. I don’t take scraps,” he says in a menacing tone.

You pause when he says your last name. It’s not something you hear regularly, you don’t ever use it. How’d he know about it?

“Quiet now Y/Ln, surprised I know that name? That’s not the only thing I know about you sweetheart. I know something that the Maximoff’s have been hiding from you, something that might sway your loyalty."

You look at Wanda and Pietro who were already on edge, but worse than that, they avoid your gaze.

“This is my family, my loyalty won’t ever change,” you speak strongly.

He chuckles, “Not even when I tell you they killed your mother.”

“What?”

“They killed your mother. Ever wonder, why she didn’t come after you, why she didn’t bombard or harass you after you left? She was dead within a week. Your father was debriefed, and relocated shortly after your graduation. These people sweetheart, before your family, they’re the mob.”

You’re in front of the hospital now, but you don’t move to exit the car. It feels like something has pierced through your heart.

You want to say something to combat him, to say it doesn’t matter, but you couldn’t say that earnestly.

You push your feelings aside for a second, “We’ve both lost a lot, Fisk. Things that we can’t get back. Things that fuel us to want more than what the world has offered us.”

“We’re alike in that way sweetheart, robbed of a happy ending. Forced to create our own,” he’s trying to flip you but you aren't buying it.

“Losing another parental figure in my life isn't a happy ending for me,” you grit your teeth.

Natasha pulls you out of the car and starts giving hand signal directions.

“I sympathize with you, Y/n. You’re not one of them, you never were. I’ll tell you what, the Maximoff’s leave, but you stay and work for me. That’s my offer.”

“We aren't leaving without Y/n,” Wanda finds her words for the first time in the conversation.

“It’s either that or I put a bullet in his head. You’ve got 15 minutes to think it over, when I call back you better have an answer,” he hangs up.

“Y/n,” Pietro starts, but you don't look at him.

“We’ve got 15 minutes to save Dragos, that's what I'm focused on,” you dismiss his attempt at an explanation.

Natasha begins laying out a plan, “ We don’t know who in this building reports to Fisk, so we have to be careful if we go in. Dragos is supposed to have security at his door, I don't think the guards there would be ours if Fisk is in the room.”

“We need a deliberate distraction,” you open the car door and reach into your bag.

You bring out your laptop and hook your phone to it. You knew what room Dragos was in with Fisk’s call you should be able to ping how many devices were around him.

“3 guards, outside the rooms. These are the phone numbers, names, home addresses, close family,” you memorize the information.

You see a group walking into the hospital and figure its your best chance to blend in, “We’ve got to go now.”

Wanda and Natasha hold frustration about the way you’re moving, but they follow you nonetheless.

“We don’t have a plan for this,” Wanda argues.

“Blend in get to the floor they’re on and then I’ll handle the guards. Once they’re dealt with Natasha will go in and disarm Fisk,” you say straying from the group you walked in with to another group heading for the elevator.

Once you're in the elevator you speak to Natasha, “Send people to these addresses make sure they get pictures, the quickest means please.”

When you step off the elevator you spot the guards. You send them individual text messages, with their names addresses and a threat to their loved ones by name.

You see 2 of 3 panic while the other one believes it’s a bluff. Natasha sends the pictures of their homes to you, and you forward them to the guards.

You see them pale instantly, the look at each other and bicker lightly. Wanda wants to go forward and strike, but you shake your head. You wait as one of the guards takes off running from the room. The other follows not even a second after. The third looks at his phone and then in the direction the others had ran before doing the same as they did.

“Natasha, we’ll be on the other side of the door one steady knock when he’s disarmed so we can get in,” you instruct her.

She doesn’t hesitate to nod at your orders. Before she goes Wanda squeezes her hand in a pleading manner, but Natasha reassures her with a soft look.

You wait with baited breath when Natasha enters the room. For a moment it’s silent, no struggle can be heard, but then there’s a gunshot.

Wanda’s the first one rushing to the room door, with Pietro and yourself directly behind her. Her hand is on the handle as she attempts to yank the door open. You move her out of the way, and open it first.

Instead of a cool metal, you feel a searing hot metal burning your chest.

“Why don’t you all file in, so we can talk,” Kingpin rests the gun on your chest and you shuffle into the room, eyes shooting across to where Natasha grips her bloody arm.

Wanda and Pietro shuffle in, the red head immediately going to her wife’s side.

“Isn’t this a lovely little family affair?”

“Wilson, take the gun off of her. Your problem is with me, my family, they’ve done nothing wrong,” Dragos tries to reason with the man.

He digs the butt of the recently fired gun further into your chest and you grit your teeth, but refuse to break eye contact with the bald man.

“She is your strongest solider Dragos, she can take it. Y/n’s not even your blood, she’s your orphan project and you’ve raised her better than your incompetent children. She’s quick witted, brilliant, useful. I want her on my side,” Fisk eyes you with a shark like grin on his face.

“You’re out numbered,” Pietro reminds the man as he stands tall in room.

Fisk scoffs, “ Bed ridden patient, shot Russian, and girl with her gun to her chest. You and your sister aren’t enough to stop me, you could barely even run the business when I took your father out. None of the Maximoff’s have been running anything as of late. It’s all been Y/n, even before Wanda came back. She’s been the brains of this whole operation for a while now.”

“If you feel that way, then why would you go after Dragos first and not me?”

Fisk chuckles, “This information isn't something I've always known. I only had this epiphany a small time before I had an example made out of you.”

“I’ll never work for you,” you stand your ground.

“Then I’ll drop you where you stand and then I'll kill everyone in this room and own this cit-”

The gun was in your hand before he finished the sentence. You place it under his chin before cocking it back.

“Do it, kill me then sweetheart. This wouldn’t be your first time killing someone who just wanted to help you right? Poor little Lucas, didn’t even get the chance to grow up.”

You pull the trigger and instantly your face is covered in the mans blood. No one in the room saw it coming. You were usually better at not acting irrationally, but this time you had met your limit.

The gun drops from your hand and you rush out of the hospital without a single clue to where you were going.

“Go, someone go after her,” Dragos yells at his children and soon Wanda is on her feet.

“I will take care of it go,” Natasha reassures her.

Wanda’s eyes linger on her wife’s injured arm, “Wanda now.”

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #pietro maximoff

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igotanidea · 1 year ago

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Personal rhythm: Jason Todd x reader

Summary/request: Jason finding out that you've never slow danced before, and he goes out of his way to arrange a dance for just the two of you alone.

thank you @miraculous-panic ;)

***

„What do you mean never?”

‘Seriously Jason, it’s a five letter word. One of the most common used in English. With all the books on your account this is not the question you should be asking.”

***

It was a Saturday night.

Movie night.

Y/N and Jason facilely decided that after all week of working/vigilanting, some silly teenage drama to cool off and relax would be in place.

And that’s how they ended up watching „To all the boys I’ve loved before”.

Or rather - binging through the whole trilogy.

Or - in other words - giving commentary and laughing at every other silly, cliche scene.

And it was so good and so nice and so peaceful, finally not having a care in the world and just relaxing in each other’s company.

Any other guy would probably complain about the choice and force his way to Fast and furious or some Jason Statham action movie, but not Jason. Truthfully as long as they were both spread comfortably on the couch, his head on her lap, being treated with the most welcomed head scalp massage, he might have watched the Paw patrol or Dora the explorer and not say a word.

However-

All good things must come to an end.

After something around 4 hours they finally reached the prom scene. The choosing king and queen of the ball scene. And the slow dancing scene.

And that changed the serene atmosphere.

„Do you see that Y/N? Come on, this guy can’t even lead her properly. I swear if he was moving like that in a real life poor girl will have her feet trampled.”

„Guess they should have hired you for the scene.” Y/N laughed in response.

„Damn right they should have! After all you were the one to say I remind you of the guy who plays -- what was his name again?” Jason rolled on his back so he could stare up at his girlfriend.

‘PETER!” she laughed as if they didn’t hear that name like 100 times already

„Right! Right, Peter! Of course! Still think I’m way more handsome though-”

„Damn, you’re such a tease Todd!”

„You’re my girlfriend, you’re supposed to agree with me!” Jason sat up abruptly, turning her head back from him and towards the screen. „Now, watch it carefully and confirm my theory. He doesn’t know how to slow dance, does he?. Seriously, from a girl’s perspective. ‘’

„I --”

„Are you blind now?” Jason smirked at her indecisiveness.

„Hey!” the punch on his arm did nothing to hurt him but was definitely a surprise

„Just admit it! Guys don’t dance like that! This is not the way a girl- a woman-- should be held!”

„How would I know?!” she finally exploded, her emotions pushed forward because of Jason’s obliviousness.

„What do you mean--?”

„I never slow danced!”

‘Never?” now that was shocking. Yes, they rarely dwelt in the past, especially the time frame in which Jason was absent, but how come he never knew about that?! shit, what else did she missed from the teenage/young adult years? And how the fudge he didn’t make it right yet?!

‘Do you want me to spell it out for you?” she rolled her eyes stopping the movie „N-E-V-E-R”

„you’re right it’s a five letter word. One of the most commonly used in English. But to me, in this context, it doesn’t make any sense.” he grabbed her hands pulling her forward to him and looking straight into her eyes, smirking. „That’s bullshit and I won’t be fooled.”

„You’re being fooled by not being fooled.”

„Huh?” damn that girl had some twisted logic on her. „the hell does that mean?”

„It means I’m telling the truth.” she blushed slightly despite her best effort to act cool. It was a bit embarrassing to admit to her boyfriend that she lacked in the experiences of youth.

„No shit!” he laughed

„This is not funny!”

„This is plenty funny!”

„Oh, like you slowed danced before!”

„I didn’t get to go to prom, cause as you might have noticed I’ve been dead at the time--’

„Like I could ever forget that.” she rolled her eyes in annoyance to cover up for the heartache she felt at the memory.

„- I did slow dance.”

„What now?! With who!? Cause definitely not with me!”

„Is someone jealous now?” Jason leaned forward

„You wish Todd!”

„Jealousy is a bad trait, you know. I’d advice you to stop it baby...”

„Or what?”

‘Or I might have to actually help you enrich your experience.”

„Oh really, and how --?”

That sentence was cut by a involuntary squeak as Jason pulled her to her feet, almost causing the girl to crash with his hard chest due to the force.

„Shit, sorry Y/N. Forgot how tiny and light you are.”

„I am--”

„Sh.” the tone of his voice and the gesture of putting his finger to her lips definitely couldn't stand opposition. „don’t you dare saying another word, I forbid you. You are tiny and light. And now, I’m going to make you feel like a fragile princess in the arms of a handsome and brave prince.”

One of his hand found a way to her waist, the other to her shoulder blades, grabbing her firmly but delicately. For some crazy reason she actually did feel secure and loved in his hands. Like nothing wrong could happen as long as she was held like this.

As long as his eyes were focused solely on her.

And it was both terrifying and wonderful experience.

„You can touch me, you know. It’s not like you haven’t done it before....” Jason chuckled at the way her hands hung awkwardly by her sides

„You’re ruining the moment, dipshit!”

„You’re the one using invectives baby. Don’t get any silly ideas in your head. You’re not going anywhere. Not until you get that slow dance.”

‘I’m make-up-less and wearing sweatpants.”

„And you’re still the prettiest girl in the world ”

„We don’t have any music.” she objected almost causing Jason to groan.

„Here.” he grabbed her hand and put it to his heart „feel that rhythm?” she nodded „good. Very good. Now this is the only sound you should be focusing on. Cause it resounds for you. You hear me, Y/N?”

„I hear you....” she whispered

„It’s only for you, baby.”

„i thought you weren’t romantic....” his grip on her tightened as he pulled her closer to him, swaying gently right and left, their feet barely moving, but it was still considered slow-dancing for them.

„I’m not. But I can be for you....” he muttered against her hair, planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head „You even made me dance, which is enough of a sign that I’ll do anything for you. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

„Can you just be yourself? The guy I fell for?”

„I suppose that can be arranged.” he smiled, even though she couldn’t see it with her face pressed to his chest.

And they would stay in this silence, moving to their own song for much longer if it wasn’t for their cat jumping on the couch, right on the pilot, and resuming the movie on the prom dance performance.

Giving Y/N and Jason a chance to put that scene into reality and adapting it into her their lives.

First time.

With many more to come.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fluff #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood fluff #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction

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jd07201990 · 1 year ago

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“Oh, come on Chuck! This’ll be my second time! You can’t keep forcing me to work another 40 years, just to make it to retirement and do it all again! It’s not yours or my fault that there aren’t enough young folk to take over our jobs! Hell, maybe if we paid a bit more, the few of them out there would apply!”

“It’s Lieutenant Roth, Billy. Now go change out of that equipment and take a shower. Whatever this remote does to strip away all those years, it sure does leave a young man ripe!”

“Don’t call me Billy! I haven’t been Billy in 30 years! Its Bill Damn it! And how am I supposed to explain this, again! to David?! You know he’s not into, well… this!”

“Put your shirt down Billy and quit your complaining. We’re doing something different this time, changing things up, trying something new. See, we couldn’t afford to pay higher wages all these years, because we’ve been stashing extra money away, for a new program. This remote can do a lot more than just wipe away years, Billy. The company has a whole app-store full of features, but they cost a hell of a lot. We only had enough for 2 new features, and we think it’ll really help solve this town’s aging population issue.”

“Wha… what the hell are you saying? What do you mean, something new?! Chuck, dude… you’re seriously starting to crack! What the fuck does any of this have to do with David?! And who is, “We”?!”

“I’m only going to tell you this once, son. It’s Lieutenant Roth. Now, I guess there’s no beating around the bush with you young-bloods. So I’ll get right to it. “We” is me, the Governor, and the Town Board. We investigated every possible fix, and it comes down to this. All the youth are moving out in droves, going to college, or fleeing to the city for excitement, leaving us aging folk to do the hard work around town. With the remote able to take years off a person, we’ve decided that all our current retirees, in every department, will be regressed, and the new feature we purchased will ensure you all follow your new, youthful instincts, providing us with a full generational bump in population.

You will be the hot-blooded virile stud you were way back in the day; you remember? Except this time, just as David isn’t attracted to this prime of your life look, YOU won’t be attracted to David, or any man for that matter. You see, we need all the help we can get, so with this little app, you’ll be chasing pretty women, and will certainly end up settling down, once one of them catches. Ah, by the look on your face, you know exactly what I mean.

Good, because you and the rest of the retirees are going to have your hands full, working these jobs getting paid just enough for a double-wide and a truck, leaving a trail of gals before you settle in with one, and have a whole mess of kids. "

“Ch… Lieutenant, sir… Wha… you’re insane dude! Fuckin’ totally cracked! You hear yourself! You can’t do this! I can’t be… I can’t chase… I don’t… don’t like…. Fuck… fuck dude… what the fuck are you doing?! Quit pointin’ that shit at me bro! My.. my head!”

“Don’t worry son, I’ll let you off the hook for all that mouthing off. It’s got to be rough having your brain completely flipped inside out, dumped out and filled with everything you need to be a, productive, member of society. Isn’t that right Billy?”

“Wha.. Oh, hey Lieutenant! So uh, is it ok if I head off to the showers and hit the road? Kind of a slow night huh sir? If it’d be alright, I want to go down to the Strip and hit the bar. The dudes and I figured we’d start the weekend early, ya know? Gotta get get some tail on lock before the storms hit. Thinkin’ I might run into Becka too, you know, from Thornton Stables? God she’d look real pretty, all knocked up good n’ proper!”

“Oh alright son. Go ahead, take the night off. But you’re on call. Got it! One or two beers, maybe a shot, take some cash and buy the lass one of those fruity drinks, and you treat her like a lady, young man. Got it?”

“Got it Dude! I mean Lieutenant! I’ll make a lady outa her yet! Thanks for the money too! Ya know how rough it is on the town’s wages! Although you and the Board seem to be doin’ alright. I hope I can get to where you are, Sir!”

“Don’t worry Billy, you’ve got a good 40 years or so to work your way up! Go have fun tonight!”

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ghost-proofbaby · 9 months ago

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Can I kiss you, Sugar?”

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive.

This moment is no different.

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head.

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years.

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained.

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way.

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss.

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future.

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now.

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they?

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.”

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair.

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home.

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks.

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads.

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared.

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment.

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.”

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance.

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain.

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him.

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his.

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret.

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere.

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter.

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight.

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone.

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it.

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be.

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call.

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.”

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it.

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile.

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight.

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize.

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised.

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then.

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down.

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear.

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it.

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.”

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you.

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this.

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away.

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption.

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off.

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we?

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption.

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.”

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.”

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened.

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it.

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours.

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on.

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man.

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses.

Always have, always will.

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined.

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into.

You’d forgotten just how well you know him.

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind.

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens.

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him.

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core.

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response.

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.”

“Please what, Sugar?”

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-”

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command.

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention.

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now.

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day.

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned.

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water.

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would.

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer.

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago.

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up.

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night.

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.”

You mean more than just the sex.

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does.

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again.

You don’t know when the tears started.

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet.

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.”

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use.

“When I get back, all I care about is you.”

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains.

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you.

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable.

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die.

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

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