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niallerspayno · 1 month ago

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Be My Baby Daddy (Niall x reader) - Fic Request

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Request for @pansexualdarling: As longtime best friends, you and Niall have always been there for each other. But when your desire for a child leads you to ask him to be the father, everything changes. As Niall considers your request, buried feelings surface, making you both realise this could be more than just a shared dream of parenthood—it could be the start of something deeper.

Tags: Niall x reader, friends to lovers, angst and fluff, smut at the end

...

You sit curled up on the couch, a half-empty glass of wine balanced precariously on the armrest, your phone in hand as you absently swipe through a dating app. Another face flashes onto the screen—generic smile, unoriginal bio, no spark. With a sigh, you swipe left. Again. And again.

The faint sound of your TV fills the quiet of the room, a mix of laughter and sentimental music pulling your gaze up for a moment. An ad is playing—a mother kneeling on the floor, helping her toddler take wobbly steps as they both laugh, eyes shining. Something about it catches you off guard, and for a moment, you just watch, your chest tightening in a way that feels all too familiar lately.

You’ve always wanted that—family, a child, that kind of unshakable bond. But here you are, sitting alone in your flat, glass of wine in hand, and no closer to it than you were years ago. The dating app isn’t helping. And waiting for the “right person” to magically appear? That seems like a gamble you’re losing.

Placing your wine down, you pick up your laptop, the thought taking root almost before you can fully process it.

What if there’s another way?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before you type the words: IVF process for single women. You scroll through the search results, reading about sperm banks, donor profiles, success rates, and costs. Another search leads to adoption, the logistics and timelines stretching longer than you imagined.

The options blur together as the thought deepens—sure, it’s possible. But something about each of them feels... impersonal. Anonymous. You can’t picture yourself choosing a name from a list, a face from a profile, trusting that this stranger will make up half of your child.

The glass of wine lingers on your lips as you lean back, lost in thought. And then it hits you. Someone constant, someone safe. Someone who’s been there for every milestone and heartbreak, cheering you on from the sidelines. Someone you trust with your whole heart.

Niall.

It’s absurd, isn’t it? The idea feels almost too wild to entertain. But as you sit there, images flash through your mind—Niall’s easy laugh, the way he always shows up for you, his natural warmth around kids. And let’s be honest, he’s got those unfairly good genes.

The longer you think about it, the less absurd it seems. You set your glass down and close your laptop, the weight of the decision settling in. You don’t just want to be a mother. You want to do this with someone you trust. And the only name that keeps coming to mind is his.

...

You pace the living room, heart pounding as you rehearse the conversation for what feels like the hundredth time. This isn’t something you can just blurt out—it has to be said carefully. Even then, you’re not entirely sure how Niall will take it.

The knock at the door jolts you from your thoughts. You take a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your jeans before opening it.

“Hey, you,” Niall says with a smile, stepping inside. His brunette hair peeks out from under a navy beanie, and his blue eyes are warm as ever. “You alright? You sounded kinda serious on the phone.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. You take his coat and hang it up as he toes off his shoes.

He glances at you, a hint of concern flickering across his face. “Serious enough to need wine?” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

You laugh softly, nodding. “Definitely a wine conversation.”

He heads to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle and two glasses without needing to ask where anything is. You follow him, sitting at the counter as he pours.

“So, what’s on your mind?” he asks, sliding a glass toward you and leaning against the counter, glass in hand.

You take a sip, gathering your courage. “Okay, this might sound a little crazy, but… I’ve been thinking about having a baby.”

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“And I mean on my own,” you continue, rushing to explain. “I’ve looked into it—IVF, adoption, everything. I know it’s unconventional, but I’m at this point in my life where I just… I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. You’d be a great mum, you know. And if anyone can handle doing it on their own, it’s you.”

His easy, supportive tone loosens the knot in your chest, but you know you’re not done yet. You set your glass down and fiddle with the stem, avoiding his gaze.

“Thanks,” you say softly. “But… that’s not the whole reason I wanted to talk to you.”

He tilts his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Alright. What’s the rest of it?”

“I’ve done a lot of research,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “And the idea of a random donor just… doesn’t sit right with me. I want to do this with someone I trust. Someone I know will be there no matter what.”

You pause, and his gaze sharpens slightly, like he’s starting to put the pieces together.

“And that someone,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper, “is you.”

Niall’s glass freezes halfway to his lips. He sets it down carefully, blinking at you. “Me?”

“Yeah,” you say, rushing to fill the silence. “You’re my best friend, Niall. You’ve always been there for me, and I know you’d be an amazing dad. I’m not asking for a relationship or anything complicated—I’d handle the day-to-day stuff. I just… I trust you more than anyone else in my life. And I think this could work.”

He leans back against the counter, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, the room feels heavy with unspoken words.

“That’s… wow,” he finally says, letting out a breathy laugh. “You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or deflecting, and your stomach twists. “If it’s too much—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts in, holding up a hand. “It’s not that. It’s just… a lot to think about, you know? I mean, this isn’t exactly something you drop into a casual conversation.”

You nod, your throat tightening. “I know. I don’t need an answer right now. I just… I had to ask.”

He’s quiet for another moment before pushing off the counter and stepping closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Let me think about it, yeah?”

Relief washes over you, even if it’s not a yes. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Alright,” he says with a small smile, squeezing your shoulder. “And hey, no matter what, you know I’ve got your back, yeah?”

You nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

...

Later, the two of you are sprawled on the couch, a movie playing quietly in the background. Niall has his legs stretched out, one arm draped over the back of the couch, while you sit cross-legged on the other side, your wine glass resting on the coffee table.

You steal a glance at him, watching as he absentmindedly twirls the stem of his glass between his fingers. He’s relaxed, but you can tell his mind is still turning.

“So,” he says finally, breaking the comfortable silence. “Can I ask… why now? I mean, I get it, but… what brought this on?”

You let out a small laugh, looking down at your hands. “Honestly? A combination of things. I was scrolling through some dating app the other night, and it just hit me how… stuck I feel. Like, I’m not meeting anyone, and even if I did, who knows how long it’d take to get to the point where having a family is even an option? And then I saw this ad on TV—it was one of those sappy ones with a mum and her kid—and it just… I don’t know. It made me realize how much I want that.”

He nods, his gaze softening as he listens. “Yeah, I get that. Life doesn’t exactly wait around, does it?”

“Exactly,” you say, leaning back against the cushions. “And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m ready, you know? I want to be a mum. I want to have that kind of love in my life.”

There’s a pause, and you glance at him hesitantly. “What about you? Do you ever think about having kids?”

“Sometimes,” he admits, taking a sip of his wine. “Not in the ‘I’m ready right now’ kind of way, but… yeah. I want kids someday. Always have.”

His honesty makes your chest ache a little, but you push the feeling aside.

“So, if you’re doing this,” he continues, shifting slightly to face you, “how’s it all gonna work? Like… what’s the plan?”

You shrug, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been looking into clinics, and there’s a lot to figure out. It’s not exactly cheap, but I’ve been saving for a while. And I’d need to go through some screenings, but after that, it’s just about timing. If it all goes smoothly, I could be pregnant within a few months.”

His brow furrows slightly. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“I had to,” you say with a small smile. “This isn’t the kind of thing you just dive into without a plan. I know it’s not gonna be easy, but I’m ready for that.”

He leans his head back against the couch, looking at you with something unreadable in his expression. “You’re brave, you know that?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. Desperate, maybe. Determined, definitely.”

“Brave,” he insists, his voice softer now. “This is a big deal, and you’re going after it. That takes guts.”

The warmth in his tone makes your cheeks flush, and you look away, focusing on the movie for a moment.

“Thanks, Niall,” you say quietly.

He smiles, reaching over to nudge your knee with his foot. “Always.”

...

After a quiet drive home, Niall’s head is spinning. The conversation with you has replayed in his mind a thousand times on the way back, but now, as he steps inside his flat, it’s like it’s all just hitting him at once.

He places his keys on the counter, kicking off his shoes, and heads straight for the couch. He grabs his phone, scrolling through his contacts before landing on Liam’s name.

A few rings and Liam picks up. “Oi, mate, what’s up?”

“Hey,” Niall starts, sinking into the couch, his mind racing. “I… I need to talk to you about something. It’s a bit heavy, though.”

Liam’s tone shifts immediately. “Yeah, course. You alright?”

Niall hesitates, fingers drumming nervously against his phone case. “Well, I’m not sure. It’s about… Y/N)”

Liam’s voice softens. “Oh? What’s going on with her?”

Niall takes a deep breath, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. “She—she wants a baby, man.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Right,” Liam says slowly, clearly unsure where this is going. “Okay. But you’re saying...?”

“I’m saying she wants to do it herself,” Niall says, feeling the words come out in a rush. “But—she asked me to be the father.”

A heavy silence follows, and Niall’s mind flashes to the look in your eyes, the hope, the trust you placed in him.

“Oh shit,” Niall mutters under his breath, the realisation settling in. “I’ve actually been in love with her for a while, and now she wants my baby.”

Liam lets out a long breath. “Jesus, mate, that’s… that’s a lot to take in.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Niall replies, a little more defensively than he means to. “I don’t know what to do. I thought I’d had it all figured out, but now I’m… I’m kind of freaked out.”

Liam is quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is steady. “Niall, I’ve been co-parenting Bear with Cheryl for a while now, so I get it. I know how much of a commitment it is. It’s not just about the physical side of things—it’s about being there, being present, day in and day out. Are you ready for that?”

The question hits Niall hard, and he closes his eyes, thinking it over. The idea of being a dad, especially with someone like you—someone he’s always cared about, someone he’s always wanted more with—it feels like it could be the best thing in the world. But the weight of it still lingers.

“I don’t know,” Niall admits, rubbing his face with his hand. “I mean, it’s Y/N, you know? I’ve always loved her in a way, but this is… different. I’ve never thought about actually being a dad. But I want to be there for her. I want to make sure she’s okay. I don’t want to let her down.”

Liam’s voice is softer now. “You��ve gotta figure out if you’re ready for it, mate. It’s a huge thing. But if you think you can handle it, and if she trusts you enough to ask you… that says a lot. Don’t rush it, though. Take your time.”

“Yeah,” Niall says, nodding even though Liam can’t see him. “I know. I just—I didn’t expect it to be this complicated.”

“You never do,” Liam replies with a laugh. “But whatever you decide, just make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. And, uh, I think you’re gonna need to be honest with her about your feelings. That’ll be the real kicker.”

Niall’s heart races at the thought. He’s never been good at expressing how he feels, especially when it comes to you. But he knows Liam’s right. He can’t let this go on without addressing it.

“Thanks, mate,” Niall says, his voice quieter now. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem, mate. You’ve got this. Just take your time, yeah?”

“Yeah, I will.”

As Niall hangs up, the weight of the conversation lingers, but so does the feeling of possibility. The idea of a future with you—of starting something new and real—flickers in his mind. Maybe this is the beginning of something bigger than either of them ever expected.

...

The next day, Niall shows up at your door, and the moment you open it, you can tell he’s been thinking about your conversation all night. His blue eyes are a little more intense than usual, and there’s a slight nervous energy about him, but he’s trying his best to mask it with a casual smile.

“Hey,” he says, stepping inside. “You good?”

You nod, trying to keep the nervous excitement in check. “Yeah, just… thinking about everything.”

“Yeah, me too,” he admits, closing the door behind him. He takes a breath, glancing around the room before focusing back on you. “So… I’ve been thinking about it, and… I want to do it. I’ll help you.”

The words hit you like a wave, and you blink, trying to process. “Wait—really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I think we’ve both been through a lot, and I trust you more than anyone. You’re right—I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else either.” His voice is steady, but there’s an underlying tension in his words that makes your heart race.

“Thank you,” you say softly, stepping closer. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I know,” Niall responds, his smile genuine, though there’s still something guarded in the way he holds himself. He runs a hand through his hair, then clears his throat. “So, I guess we should start figuring out the next steps, yeah? Like fertility clinics and all that stuff?”

You nod eagerly, leading him to the couch where you’ve gathered a few notes and research on the process. “I’ve been looking into places, and there’s a few I think we could visit. I want to make sure everything is in place before we move forward. And…” You pause, glancing at him. “If you’re still okay with the idea of being involved, you know, after the baby’s born, I’d want to have that clear too.”

Niall’s eyes flicker, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something that seems more personal, more vulnerable—but just as quickly, it’s gone. He nods, his smile slipping back into place. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be around, no matter what.”

You start going through some of the options you’ve researched, making notes as you talk through the process. Niall listens intently, asking questions when he needs to, but the whole time, he’s quiet, distracted, his mind clearly still wrestling with the weight of everything.

You finish explaining a few potential clinics, and he leans back on the couch, crossing his arms. “Alright, so we’ve got a plan. And we’ll figure out the rest as we go. Just… don’t want you to feel like you’re on your own with this. I’ll be there for you.”

You smile at him, feeling a swell of affection and gratitude. “Thank you. I know this isn’t easy, but I’m really glad you’re doing this with me.”

Niall shifts uncomfortably, his expression softening for a brief second, but his eyes quickly dart away. He stands up and grabs his jacket. “I should probably head off. Got a bit of stuff to think through, you know?”

You frown slightly. “Of course. Thanks again for coming over.”

“Anytime,” he says quickly, offering you a smile before he leaves, but as the door shuts behind him, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed. He’s agreed to help you, but there’s a distance between you now that wasn’t there before.

Little do you know, Niall’s mind is a whirlwind of his own. He walks down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. What had started as a simple gesture of support had somehow shifted into something much deeper—something he’s been trying to ignore for years.

He can’t let you know, though. He can’t risk ruining the friendship you’ve built, especially now, when everything’s about to change. So, he buries the feelings down, deep where they won’t see the light of day.

But deep down, Niall knows one thing for sure: his life has already been turned upside down.

…

The following week, Niall and the reader find themselves standing outside a fertility clinic, the hum of traffic and distant chatter only adding to the strange sense of unease hanging between them. The sterile, intimidating building feels like a stark contrast to the easygoing friendship they’ve always shared. It’s suddenly very real—this big step they’ve decided to take together.

You glance at Niall as he leans against the car, running a hand through his now-brown hair, a nervous smile on his face that barely hides his anxiety.

“You good?” you ask, offering a playful grin, even though you both know it’s a loaded question.

He exhales dramatically, glancing over at you. “Well, you’re the one who needs a sample today, not me, so… yeah, I think I’m good,” he teases, but his voice is a little too high-pitched, making you snicker.

“You’re not wrong,” you laugh, but there’s a warmth behind it. “I’m the one who doesn’t have to deal with… well, whatever you’re about to deal with.”

Niall looks at you, eyebrows raised. “You’re not gonna make fun of me when I come out looking all flustered, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply with a wink.

He chuckles, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Right. Sure. I’ll be back in a bit then.”

You watch him walk off with the nurse, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he’s about to do something incredibly awkward for the first time—especially when it’s for your baby.

As you sit in the waiting room, the minutes seem to stretch into hours. You tap your foot, trying to distract yourself from the feeling of anticipation in the air. The very idea of the process, and what it could mean, makes your stomach flip. But there’s also a strange calm, knowing you have Niall by your side.

Finally, when he returns, Niall walks through the door looking slightly… off. His cheeks are a little flushed, and there’s a slightly dazed look in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat.

“So…” you begin, trying to sound casual, “How was it? Did they at least provide a comfy chair, or was it as awkward as we all know it had to be?”

Niall clears his throat, his usual easy smile replaced with something more sheepish. “Oh, it was… let’s just say, I never thought I’d be in a room with, uh, so many… distractions,” he says, his voice a little strained. He avoids making eye contact with you, focusing on his shoes instead.

You raise an eyebrow, not missing the way he’s trying to cover up his awkwardness. “Distractions?” you ask, a teasing grin forming on your lips. “What kind of distractions are we talking about, Niall?”

He looks up at you, flustered now. “Not the kind you think, alright? Just… a lot of pressure, alright? Not like I’ve had much practice at this… under these conditions.”

Your teasing smile softens, but you can’t help but laugh. “I mean, I’m sure you did great. You’ve had a lifetime of practice in some other… areas.”

“Don’t make me blush, please,” he groans, dragging his hand down his face. “You’re gonna give me a complex.”

You chuckle and nudge him gently with your elbow. “I’m just saying, it’s not the worst thing in the world. And you’re helping me with something huge. So, props to you.”

Niall rubs the back of his neck, still flustered. “Yeah, well… I’m gonna need some serious therapy after this,” he mutters, but the playful tone in his voice says it’s all in good fun.

The nurse enters with a folder, giving them both a quick update. “Everything looks good,” she says, before continuing with the usual post-procedure instructions.

As she leaves, Niall lets out a long breath, leaning back in his chair. “So, uh, yeah. That was… something. Glad it’s over,” he says, his voice lighter now but still slightly strained.

You grin at him, clearly enjoying the playful awkwardness of the situation. “Well, I’m not exactly jumping up and down in excitement either. But at least we’re one step closer, right?”

“Yeah, one step closer to you having my kid. Fantastic.” He laughs, but there’s a slight undercurrent of seriousness to it. You catch the look in his eyes—the briefest moment of something unspoken between you.

The nurse comes back with final paperwork to sign, and you both fill it out with a new sense of urgency, as if this moment is suddenly a turning point. Niall’s attention is elsewhere, distracted, and you notice that he’s still avoiding your gaze, almost as if he’s processing something a lot bigger than just the procedure.

You both walk out of the clinic together, Niall falling into step beside you but keeping a few paces of distance—like there’s an invisible line he’s unsure of crossing.

“You alright?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“Yeah,” Niall replies, his voice quieter. “It’s just… a lot, you know? I didn’t expect to feel weird about it, but here we are.”

You nod, understanding. “Yeah, me neither. But we’re doing this together. And that means more to me than you know.”

Niall glances at you, a flicker of something in his eyes, but then it’s gone just as quickly. “Right. Together.”

The walk back to your place is quiet, but there’s a new layer to your friendship now—something both exciting and unnerving. You can feel the tension simmering just below the surface, and you’re not sure if it’s the shared experience, the awkwardness of it all, or something deeper you’re both avoiding.

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of your door, the moment hanging between you.

“Thanks again, Niall. For everything,” you say softly, your heart a little heavier than before.

He smiles at you, his eyes warm but guarded. “Anytime. Just, uh, maybe don’t ask me to go through that again, yeah?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I promise, no repeat performances.”

With one last glance, Niall walks away, leaving you standing in the doorway, still feeling the weight of what’s just begun, but also the flicker of something that neither of you are ready to face yet.

…

The next day the two of you are sprawled across your couch, a pizza box open on the coffee table and a random rom-com playing in the background. Niall is half-watching, half-scrolling on his phone, while you’re sipping on a glass of wine, feeling more relaxed than you’ve been in days.

“Honestly,” Niall says, gesturing toward the TV with a slice of pizza in hand, “if someone pulled that big, cheesy airport stunt for me, I’d probably just laugh and walk the other way. Too much drama.”

You laugh, nudging his leg with your foot. “Oh, please. You’d eat it up. You’d be the one sobbing while the whole airport claps.”

Niall grins, pretending to wipe a fake tear from his eye. “Fine. Maybe I’d shed one single tear. But only if they brought a guitar and serenaded me.”

Before you can reply, your phone buzzes on the table. You glance at the screen, recognizing the number from the clinic, and suddenly your heart is in your throat.

“It’s them,” you say, sitting up straighter.

Niall lowers his slice of pizza, watching you with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Go on, answer it,” he says, his voice softer now.

You press the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Sarah from the clinic,” the cheerful voice greets you. “I wanted to let you know that we’ve reviewed all the tests and timelines, and everything looks great! Mr. Horan’s sample is excellent, and your ovulation is right on track. We’d recommend coming in tomorrow for insemination before the ovulation window closes.”

Your stomach flips, and for a moment, all you can manage is a breathless, “Oh.”

“Will tomorrow morning work for you?” the nurse asks, oblivious to the storm of emotions suddenly swirling inside you.

“Uh, yes, that works,” you manage to say, glancing at Niall, who’s now watching you intently, his phone abandoned on the couch beside him. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hang up and place the phone back on the table, staring at it as if it might ring again.

“Well?” Niall prompts, leaning forward, his brow furrowed slightly. “What’d they say?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “They said… everything looks good. Your, um… your sample was perfect.”

“Well, obviously,” he says with a playful smirk, trying to lighten the mood. But there’s a tightness in his voice, and you don’t miss the way his knee starts bouncing nervously.

“And,” you continue, your voice softer now, “I’m ovulating. They want me to come in tomorrow for the procedure.”

Niall freezes for a moment, his smirk fading. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You nod, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “It’s all happening so fast, isn’t it?”

“Fast? Nah, it’s… yeah, it’s fast,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. He leans back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I mean, it’s great news. That’s what we wanted, right?”

You tilt your head, studying him. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Course I am,” he says quickly, but there’s an edge to his voice that gives him away. “It’s just… tomorrow. That’s, uh, soon.”

You offer a small smile, trying to ease the tension. “Yeah, it’s soon. But that’s the point, right? Timing is everything with this.”

“Right,” he murmurs, his fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest.

The room falls quiet for a moment, the sound of the movie fading into the background. You can tell he’s in his head, and for the first time, you wonder if this is harder for him than he’s letting on.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching out to place your hand on his arm. “If this is too much, you can tell me, you know. We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

He looks at you then, his blue eyes searching yours. “It’s not that,” he says after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want to do this. For you.”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Thank you, Niall. For everything. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

His gaze lingers on you for a beat too long, something unspoken passing between you. Then he clears his throat and shifts back, forcing a smile. “Well, I hope they give us a discount since I’m providing top-quality goods.”

You laugh, grateful for the levity. “I’ll ask them tomorrow. Maybe they’ll throw in a loyalty card for repeat donors.”

He chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. As the night wears on, the usual ease between you feels slightly strained, the reality of what’s coming tomorrow hanging heavy in the air.

When he leaves later that night, he lingers in the doorway, his hand gripping the edge of the frame as if he’s about to say something important. But then he just gives you a small smile, leaning in to kiss your cheek before heading out.

You close the door, leaning against it with a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in your chest.

Meanwhile, as Niall walks to his car, his mind is racing again. Oh shit. I’ve actually been in love with her for a while, and now she wants my baby.

The thought hits him like a punch to the gut, but he pushes it aside. He made a promise to you, and he’s not about to let his feelings mess that up. Not now.

…

The drive to the clinic the next morning is quiet, the weight of the day ahead settling over both of you. Niall’s hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter than usual, his knuckles pale against the leather.

When he pulls into the parking lot and shifts the car into park, he doesn’t turn off the engine right away. Instead, he leans back in his seat, staring out the windshield as if lost in thought.

“You okay?” you ask, your voice soft but tinged with curiosity.

He exhales deeply, finally turning to look at you. His blue eyes are intense, filled with something you can’t quite place.

“I need to say something,” he begins, his voice low and a little shaky.

Your stomach flips. “Okay…”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ve been thinking about all of this—about us, about what we’re about to do—and I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

“Pretending?” you echo, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice growing firmer. “Pretending that I’m just fine with being your best friend. Pretending that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

“Niall…”

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “Let me get this out, yeah? I’ve been in love with you for years. And I’ve been too much of an idiot—or maybe just too scared—to tell you. Because what if you didn’t feel the same? What if I lost you?” He swallows hard, his gaze locking on yours. “But now, you’re asking me to help you have a baby, and I can’t stop thinking about how much I want this. Not just for you, but with you. I want you, all of it—us, a family, everything.”

Your breath catches in your throat, his words hitting you like a tidal wave. For a moment, you can’t speak, and his face falters slightly, like he’s bracing himself for rejection.

But then you reach out, your hand finding his, your voice barely above a whisper. “Niall, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

He blinks, his brow furrowing. “Wait… what?”

“I’ve loved you for so long,” you admit, your cheeks flushing. “But I thought you only saw me as your best friend. I didn’t want to risk ruining what we had.”

His eyes widen, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. “You’re serious? You love me?”

“Yes, Niall,” you say, smiling through the tears that are threatening to spill. “I love you.”

Relief washes over his face, his smile bright and unrestrained. “Oh, thank God,” he breathes, leaning forward to cup your face in his hands.

Before you can say another word, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, then deepens with years of unspoken feelings pouring into it. It’s everything you’ve ever imagined and more, leaving you breathless when he finally pulls back.

His forehead rests against yours as he chuckles softly, his voice warm and playful now. “So, uh, I know we’ve got this whole clinic plan and all… but if you want my baby, love, I can think of a much more natural way to make that happen.”

Your laugh is loud and sudden, breaking the tension and making him grin. “Seriously, Niall? You confess your love and go straight to that?”

“What can I say?” he teases, winking at you. “I’m a man of efficiency.”

You roll your eyes, though your smile doesn’t falter. “Let’s just see how today goes before you start making alternative plans, yeah?”

“Fair enough,” Niall says with a smirk, but there’s a softness in his eyes now, a warmth that wasn’t there before.

Hand in hand, the two of you step into the clinic, the cool air-conditioning hitting you as you approach the front desk. The receptionist greets you with a polite smile, but the sterile smell of disinfectant and the faint hum of machinery in the background make your stomach twist uncomfortably.

As you sit in the waiting area, filling out paperwork, the fluorescent lights seem too bright, the chairs too stiff. Niall, ever the observer, notices the way your fingers drum against the clipboard and the tight line of your mouth.

“You okay?” he whispers, leaning closer.

You force a smile, glancing around the stark white walls. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… doesn’t feel very, I don’t know, personal.”

His brow furrows, and he looks around too. “Yeah, it’s a bit cold, isn’t it? Not exactly what you’d picture when you’re trying to start a family.”

You nod, exhaling slowly. “I guess I just thought it would feel… different. More hopeful, less like a medical procedure.”

Niall watches you for a moment, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. Then, in his usual fashion, he stands up abruptly, holding out his hand.

“Come on,” he says firmly.

“What?” you ask, blinking up at him.

“We’re leaving,” he replies with conviction, his hand still extended.

“But… the appointment…” You glance around the waiting room, the clipboard in your lap, and then back to him.

“Love, listen to me,” he says gently, crouching in front of you now so you’re at eye level. “This doesn’t feel right, does it? You deserve something better than this—something real, something us. Not this cold, clinical rubbish.”

You hesitate, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. And then you realize he’s right. This wasn’t how you wanted it to feel.

Slowly, you place your hand in his, letting him pull you to your feet.

As you step out into the sunshine, leaving the clinic behind, you feel lighter. There’s a strange sense of freedom in the decision, though your heart still races at the uncertainty ahead.

Niall unlocks the car and opens the passenger door for you, waiting until you’re seated before slipping into the driver’s side.

“So,” he says, turning the key in the ignition. “Plan B.”

“Plan B?” you ask, raising a brow.

He glances at you with a mischievous grin. “The natural way.”

Your cheeks flush, and you smack his arm lightly. “Niall, be serious!”

“I am serious,” he says, though his grin remains. “If you’re okay with it, we’ll do this together. But on our terms, yeah? Not theirs.”

You bite your lip, your heart pounding. “And you’re really okay with this? No second thoughts?”

He reaches over, taking your hand in his. “No second thoughts,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours. “I want this with you. All of it.”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

His grin widens as he pulls out of the parking lot, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Right, then. Home it is.”

As he drives, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the road ahead suddenly feeling like the start of something extraordinary.

...

When you step inside the house, the door barely clicks shut before Niall’s presence behind you feels overwhelming. His warmth, his steady breaths, the sheer energy radiating from him—it’s all-consuming. You set your bag down with trembling hands, trying to steady yourself as the tension thickens between you.

“Niall—” you begin, but before the words can form, his hands are on your waist, turning you to face him.

His lips crash against yours, silencing any doubt or hesitation. The kiss is rough, desperate, and all-encompassing, years of unspoken feelings pouring out in a way that leaves you breathless. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him as his body presses into yours, his need palpable.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are red and slightly swollen, his blue eyes burning into yours. His voice is low and hoarse, vibrating through you like a current. “You want a baby?” he growls, his accent thicker now, his emotions untamed. “Then I’m giving you one. Tonight.”

Your breath hitches, your heart pounding against your ribcage. His words send a bolt of electricity through you, pooling heat low in your belly. “Niall…” you whisper, unsure if you’re warning him or begging for more.

“You don’t know what you’ve done to me,” he continues, his hands sliding up your sides, his touch firm and possessive. “Hearing you say you want my baby… knowing it’s me you want…” He pauses, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’m going to put a baby in you, love. Right now.”

Your knees go weak, and you clutch at his shoulders, your breath coming in shallow gasps. “You’re serious?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression heated yet tender. “You’re the only one I’d do this for. The only one I’ve ever wanted to do this with.”

Your fingers tighten in his shirt, and you nod, unable to find the words.

That’s all he needs. He scoops you into his arms, his strength making it look effortless as he carries you toward the bedroom. His lips never leave yours, the kiss growing hungrier, deeper, until you’re gasping for air.

When he lays you down on the bed, his hands are everywhere—sliding down your thighs, skimming your waist, slipping under your shirt to feel the heat of your skin. Every touch is deliberate, reverent, as if he’s savoring the moment, committing every inch of you to memory.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “Always have been. But seeing you like this… knowing what we’re about to do… Christ, love.”

You shiver under his gaze, every nerve ending alive and tingling as his hands and lips explore you. He’s thorough, almost painfully so, taking his time as if he’s determined to make sure you feel nothing but pleasure.

When he finally settles over you, the heat of his bare skin against yours is almost overwhelming, every touch igniting a fire that feels impossible to quench. His weight is grounding, his presence wrapping around you like a safety net, and the intensity in his blue eyes makes your breath hitch.

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your flushed skin as his gaze searches yours, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, his words a command and a plea all at once.

“I want this,” you whisper, your voice trembling but sure. “I want you.”

His lips crash into yours, his kiss deep and consuming, as though he’s trying to tell you everything he feels in a way words never could. His hands roam your body with reverence, exploring every curve, every inch of skin as though memorizing you. His touch leaves a trail of warmth and need in its wake, and when his hands slide down to grip your thighs, pulling you closer, the air seems to shift.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and reverent. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your hands skim the taut muscles of his back, the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips making your head spin. When you arch into him, he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips and sparking something primal deep inside you.

As he shifts, aligning himself with you, the moment hangs suspended in the air, electric and charged. He pauses, his forehead pressing against yours as his gaze locks onto you. “You’re sure?” he asks softly, his voice steady but laced with a vulnerability that tugs at your heart.

“Yes,” you breathe, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your body aching for him in ways words can’t describe.

With excruciating slowness, he pushes into you, the sensation making your breath catch and your fingers dig into his skin. The stretch is intense but perfect, his movements careful and deliberate as he fills you completely.

“God, love,” he groans, his voice low and guttural as his head drops to your shoulder. “You feel... incredible.”

Your body trembles beneath him, your breath hitching as you adjust to the sensation. Every nerve ending feels alive, every inch of your body attuned to his. He stills for a moment, his lips pressing gentle kisses along your neck as his hands cradle your face.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his concern evident even as his own body trembles with restraint.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice shaky but full of need. “Please, Niall... don’t stop.”

The sound of his name on your lips seems to unravel him, and he begins to move, slow and deliberate at first, his body pressing into yours with a rhythm that feels both primal and tender. Each movement draws a soft gasp from your lips, and he drinks in every sound, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You’re going to look so good carrying my baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with passion, the rawness of his words sending a shiver through you. “Knowing it’s ours. Knowing we made it together.”

His hips roll against yours, his movements growing more purposeful, and you clutch at him, your nails digging into his back as the intensity of the moment builds. “Niall,” you gasp, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Say it again,” he growls, his forehead pressing to yours as his pace quickens. “Say my name. Let me hear you.”

“Niall,” you moan, your voice trembling with need, the sound driving him further.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours before trailing down your neck. His hands grip your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as his movements become more urgent, his focus entirely on you. “That’s it, love. Just like that.”

The tension builds between you, every movement, every sound pulling you closer to the edge. His whispered promises fill the space around you—words of devotion, of care, of a future together—and when you finally fall over the edge, it’s with him right there, his body pressing into yours as he follows, his own release crashing over him like a tidal wave.

When it’s over, he collapses onto you gently, his body still pressed firmly against yours as his arms wrap around you, holding you close. His face buries in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin as he murmurs softly, “You okay, love?”

You nod, a shaky laugh escaping your lips as your fingers thread through his damp hair. “More than okay,” you whisper, your voice filled with contentment.

He lifts his head to look at you, his blue eyes soft and filled with emotion. A slow grin tugs at his lips, playful but tender. “Well,” he teases, his voice low, “if that didn’t do the trick, I guess we’ll just have to keep trying.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest lightly, but he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before leaning down to kiss you again.

When he pulls back, his expression grows serious, his voice dropping. “You know this is just the beginning, yeah? I’m here. Always.”

Your chest tightens at his words, your own smile softening as your hand brushes against his cheek. “Always,” you echo, the word settling over you like a promise.

He shifts to pull you into his arms, holding you tightly against him as the two of you sink into the moment. And as the quiet envelops you both, you can’t help but think that this—his love, his presence—is everything you’ve ever wanted.

...

The soft glow of morning filters through the blinds, and you stir awake slowly, the warm weight of Niall’s body pressed against yours making you feel safe and content. His arm is draped over you, his chest against your back, and for a moment, you just lie there, enjoying the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the soft rhythm that keeps you grounded.

You stretch lazily, your body aching in the best way from the night before. You can feel the heat of his body, still close, still wrapped around you like he never intends to let you go.

“Morning, love,” Niall mumbles into the back of your neck, his voice thick with sleep, his breath warm against your skin. He nuzzles into you, pressing a few soft kisses to your shoulder, the scent of him—woodsy and familiar—filling your senses.

“Morning,” you murmur, your voice a little husky from sleep, your fingers grazing over his arm where it rests around your waist. You feel him shift slightly behind you, the heat of him a constant, calming presence as he draws lazy circles on your hip with his thumb.

“You comfortable?” he asks, his lips brushing the back of your neck again, soft and slow, as if he’s still half-dreaming.

“Yeah, just fine,” you whisper, a small laugh escaping you. “You?”

“Couldn’t be better.” His voice is low, thick with a kind of groggy contentment. There’s a lazy warmth in the way he speaks, the kind of softness that comes with knowing you’re both still tangled in the afterglow of the night, and maybe a little bit reluctant to leave it just yet.

You turn to face him slowly, the covers shifting with you, and his eyes flicker open, sleepy blue orbs meeting yours with a lazy, almost dazed smile. He’s a mess of tousled hair, his lips swollen from the kisses exchanged just hours before, and there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your chest tighten.

"Morning," he whispers again, his voice a little more awake now but still tinged with that sleepy rasp.

“Morning,” you repeat, the word barely a breath as you curl closer into him, your body still heavy with the warmth of his touch. You kiss him, slow and unhurried, the softness of it mingling with the faint traces of sleep still clinging to you both.

When you pull back, Niall’s hand slips lazily down your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine, and he groans softly, his voice still low and rumbly. “You know… I was thinking…”

“Uh-oh,” you tease, but your voice is soft, a smile tugging at your lips as you run a hand through his messy hair.

He gives a quiet chuckle, his lips curling into that crooked grin of his. “I think we need to go again, love. Just to be sure. You know, science.”

Your laugh is soft, still half a yawn, and you roll your eyes, but there’s a definite flicker of heat in your belly as you hear the teasing, playful tone in his voice. “For science, huh?”

“Definitely,” he grins, a little cheeky, but his hand slides under the covers to cup your hip, his fingers warm against your skin. His touch is lazy, almost reverent, and when you arch into him, your body instinctively responding to his closeness, he lets out a low, contented sigh.

You both shift closer, the sheets tangled around you as Niall’s lips brush against yours again, slow and soft, like you’re both still wrapped in the haze of sleep. But then the kiss deepens, the heat rising between you, and the sleepy calm of the morning fades into something more urgent, more insistent.

“God, love,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips as he presses his forehead to yours. “You feel so perfect. I can’t get enough of you.”

You hum in response, your body already beginning to wake up with his touch. “I want you,” you whisper, your hands sliding to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

With lazy determination, Niall shifts over you, his hands guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, and the weight of him feels right, familiar. He’s still half-dazed, his movements slow and almost clumsy as he shifts into position, but you both fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

When he slides into you, the sensation is smooth, easy, and the slight ache from last night only adds to the pleasure. His movements are careful but lazy, still drunk on sleep, but as he starts to move, the warmth between you ignites once more.

“So good,” he breathes out, his voice thick with need, but the sound is still slow, half-sleepy, as if he’s not fully awake yet. “Feels perfect, love. Every time.”

Your body moves with his in that slow, comfortable rhythm, the kind of lazy, drawn-out lovemaking that only happens when you’re both lost in the haze of a quiet morning, the world outside forgotten. The sounds between you are soft, the kiss still lingering, slow and deep, as if neither of you wants to let go of the moment.

Niall’s lips trail to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers against it, “I’m gonna put a baby in you, love. Gonna make sure of it.”

His words, low and possessive, send a shiver of excitement through you, but there’s no rush, no pressure. Just him, you, and the promise of what’s to come, taking its time.

When he finally reaches the edge, it’s a slow, steady thing—every breath, every soft touch winding you tighter together, until finally you both unravel in a shared, breathless release.

For a long moment afterward, you both lie still, tangled in the sheets, the room silent but for the soft rustle of breathing, as Niall pulls you close and buries his face in your hair. His arms wrap around you, his warmth grounding you, and you smile contentedly as the soft hum of his heartbeat calms you both.

“Well,” he murmurs, still half-asleep, his fingers trailing lazily down your spine. “That oughta do it. I think we’re good for now, love.”

You laugh quietly, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him in for another lazy kiss. “I think so, too.”

And as you both settle back into the warmth of the morning, the world outside seems far away—just you, him, and the slow, sweet promises of what’s to come.

#niall horan x you #niall x reader #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan x reader #niall horan x y/n

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onnahu · 7 months ago

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Batkids as AO3 users

Dick - I don't think he'd be a writer. He just don't give me the vibes, ya know? He would, however, read fics about people he knows. And himself. He's deep in superhero fandom, and at some moment he gets super invested in some rarepair and actually menages to set them up. I also think as a teenager he would stumble upon some E rated fic for someone he knows, then promise himself he'd never touch it again, and then a few years later he reads them a lot, is just super secretive and guilty about it. He does not, however, touch Batman E rated fics with a ten foot pole.

Tim - you'd think he'd write Hero RPF, huh? No. He's deep into Formula 1 RPF. He writes, he reads, he's just very active in fandom. Most of his works are some kind of Formula 1 murder mystery.

Jason - he is the one from Hero RPF. He doesn't read it, he just writes it. In various AU's, ranging from some inspired by his crazy adventures to those from classic literature. When he was still Robin, he wrote Pride and Prejudice Superbat fic, that became crazy popular. After ressurection he sweared he wouldn't touch it, but after checking it out once and realising how tragic his writing style was, he rewrites the whole thing. He reads fics from fandoms he does not know the original works of. He finds a fic he likes, and learns things from it. Then he spirals deep into fandom. Like many of Batfam fans I imagine. That's why he doesn't write, because he feels he can't without knowing the original, and he sure as hell ain't watching some kids show called Ben 10.

Babs - I think her beginnings were in something like Twilight of DCU. She would regret it forever. Currently she's involved in some shows she watches when on break from work and Oracle. I'm not really into TV series but maybe something like Bridgertons or The Boys or something like that. She writes only one-shots and is active on Tumblr. She has like a thousand bookmarks and she posts fic recs with the most wild analysis of writing style, plot consistency and just vibes. She stays away from any RPF's, but esoecially Superhero RPF. She's got it enough on day to day basis thank you very much.

Steph - that girl post Robin writes the most sick gore body horror fics change my mind. And she does it in fandom's you would least expected. She also writes Spoiler/Batgirl fics, that are really fluffy but also full of action and actually made the pairing wildly known.

Cass - she reads everything Steph writes for Spoiler/Batgirl. Steph does not know Cass knows she writes them. Cass is really charmed. She tried writing one, but it came out really dark and she didn't like how clumsy it was and gave up on trying to be an author. She reads heavy angst, crack, or Steph's Spoiler/Batgirl fics, nothing else. She's the person that leaves very short but very sweet comments on literally averything she likes.

Duke - that boy is in the same circles as both Tim and Dick. He actually finds out it's Tim that writes his favourite Formula 1 fics as Tim finds out it's Duke that leaves those super insightful comments on them that start's conversations with author and other readers. They have one talk about it and then forcefully forgets about it and continues as it was. He writes Batman and Robin and Robin Gang fics. He's really good at it, and that's how he found Duck Grayson. Not that any of them knows that's the other on the other side of the screen. And yes, he's Steph's beta reader, and she's his. They don't talk about it, it's just how it is.

Damian - he reads Batman and Robin fics but only about himself. He also draws fanart and makes comics about Batman and Robin (himself). Later he gets involved in Teen Titans fandom, then the Justice League one, and suddenly he's a wildly known fanartist in the whole Hero RPF community. And he did draw a fanart for Jason's fic ones. They both don't know it's the other. He also gives aby superhero an emotional support fictional pet. Dick think it's adorable. (He was the one that introduced Damian to fandom.)

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clumsy-jiminie · 8 months ago

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ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ

❝ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 4.7k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, questionable yoga poses, sexual fantasying, intimacy

↣ notes :: :) surprise :) the amount of sexual tension in this chapter makes me wanna smush their faces together and yell KISS ALREADY also JIN IS BACK JIN IS HOME WORLD WIDE HANDSOME HAS RETURNED 🥳 I was so happy to see our king of chaos return and spend some time with the rest of the boys!

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"you're watching, I feel it. I know I shouldn't stare. I picture your hands on me. I think I wanna let it happen."

-liar, camilla cabello-

Amber eyes met with chocolate irises. After staring at each other with a widened gaze of disbelief, both pairs respectfully narrowed at each other.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

Kiara dropped whatever stretch she was about to do, turning to face the blonde man who seemed equally, if not more, annoyed than the girl.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" She whispered harshly so she wouldn't cause a scene.

Jimin couldn't help but tilt his head to the side curiously, switching arms to stretch the other one out. "I thought it was pretty obvious."

Her eyes burned a hole into him. "No shit! I meant here, at this studio, when there are hundreds, if not thousands, of other ones!"

The man shrugged, "This one was in the area. Technically, I should be asking you what you're doing here. Aren't you supposed to be in Long Island?"

Kiara opened her mouth and prepared for a slick response, but the words died on her tongue. He had a point, but she wouldn't let him know. All she wanted was to relax; with everything else going on in her life, this was the one place guaranteed to provide some tranquillity. But now that was tainted by the blonde's mere existence.

It was like the universe was playing some sick joke on the woman, interweaving her life with someone as insufferable as him. Her existence became a reality TV show for the gods above and below, making Kiara and Jimin the main characters.

"What happened to your hair?" Jimin asked suddenly, filling the air of silence that grew between them. He had only checked out the woman because her hair caught his attention. So curly, wild, and free—he liked it, but it was Kiara's, so he couldn't. No matter how much he wanted to pull on her curls strand by strand to watch them recoil back to the loose spring. Plus, Kiara had straight hair—she always had straight hair—she couldn't just suddenly change it on him.

"Fuck off," she quipped while she placed her hands on her hips for a moment. Kiara didn't wear her hair curly for this exact reason; someone always had something to say about it. Whether it was white women and children reaching out to touch it without her permission, black men insisting she was anything other than black when trying to talk to her, and random Hispanic people speaking straight Spanish to her as if she understood. Kiara didn't like the attention it brought her. That's why she kept it straight. The only thing people would do was compliment her hair. The less attention, the better.

She inhaled deeply through her nose, trying to find the calmness she once had before Park Jimin had entered. If she couldn't, she would hightail it out of here and back to Little Latte to give Jeongguk an earful. She knew she should've stayed at his place and made his bed into a lovely, comfy depression nest. An overwhelming feeling sat in her gut as soon as Jeongguk mentioned the outside world.

"Was it on purpose? Like you meant to walk outside like that?" Jimin started to lean side to side casually, hiding the smirk that desperately wanted to form on his lips.

Kiara glared at the blonde, her fiery gaze meeting his playful one. So he thinks this is a joke? "Fuck you and ya motha."

"Oooh," Jimin chuckled, hiding his attraction to her accent. It was the first time he heard it so prominently. Did she know she had a voice that deserved to be in porn? He could listen to just her speaking with no direction at all and get off. "Insulting people's mother's now? Someone's a little feisty."

"You're right," she stepped off her mat and bent over, beginning to roll it up. Jimin's eyes lingered over the woman for more than what was appropriate. "Your mother is probably a wonderful lady. I bet she tried everything for you not to grow up a pretentious asshole, but unfortunately," she grabbed her mat and water bottle, "some thing's can't be helped."

Jimin's upper lip twitched, threatening to curl from the bold assumption that his mother was anything excellent. He should’ve told her off—let her know just how painfully wrong she was—but that little smirk playing on her lips stole the words from his tongue. All he could do was sigh deeply, exhaling all the words he wanted to say as he stared into those eyes of gold that threatened him as much as his own. Just as she stepped away from him, assuming the woman was going to leave so they both could have peace, a door opened. The duo turned their head towards the noise that interrupted their tension.

"Good morning, my blessed rays of sunshine and daring rainbows!" A short girl with wavy dark brown hair walked in, followed by a tall man with deep skin. With the amount of pep in her step, one would think she was skipping. She made her way to the front of the room, standing before the mirror on top of a mat. The woman was very petite, standing at 4'10 at most. In contrast, the man beside her had to be at least 6 feet tall. It was an odd couple, but Kiara didn't care as much as she wondered why there were two instructors instead of one.

The woman smiled brightly at the room as the chatting people from earlier slowly started to join the center. "It's an honor to have you join us for this couples class."

The duo's eyes widened with disbelief before releasing an aspirated sigh. "Ah, shit," they mumbled as they looked around the room. Everyone had a partner beside them, leaving them as the only pair.

"Today's class is designed for you and your partner to sync until you are one."

Kiara quickly raised her hand, promptly grabbing the instructors' attention. They nodded towards her, prompting her to speak. "What if you don't have a partner?"

The room erupted in tiny giggles like she said a joke, but Kiara's face remained unchanged. She stared at the two instructors, jaw clenched with an unamused expression spread amongst her features. She folded her arms over her chest, waiting for whatever response the two would conjure up.

"Oh, you were serious?" The man asked before Kiara nodded. He pursed his lips briefly before his eyes landed on the man beside her. Jimin looked at Kiara, wondering where she expected this route to lead her. It was only until the overwhelming feeling of someone staring at you that he pulled his gaze away from the girl and looked at the male instructor. "Do you have a partner?"

The blonde's eyes went wide before he cleared his throat. "Well, no, but—"

"Ah! So problem solved!" The male grinned before looking off at the rest of the class.

"No!" Kiara's voice pipped up before the female instructor could speak. "Problem not solved! Problem far from solved!"

"You're welcome to walk out," the short woman stated. She stared at the other woman, her warm blue eyes freezing over suddenly. That didn't stop Kiara from bending over again, preparing to gather her things until the woman's voice cut through the air. "But we don't offer refunds here."

Kiara stopped and froze, debating for a moment before slowly standing up. She had to dip into her savings fund to pay for this class, and she didn't want to waste money she shouldn't have been spending in the first place. Her shoulders dropped in defeat as she realized she was not only going to be stuck in the same room with Park Jimin, sober, for a whole hour, but now she was also to be his partner.

"Problem solved?" The female instructor asked with a tone of impatience lingering behind her words. Kiara nodded silently. The woman's eyes then traveled to Jimin, who met her gaze with a glare. She raised a questioning brow, tempting him to take a chance and try her also. And Jimin would've. He didn't need the money, nor cared so much for the class. He could've left, found another class at a neighboring yoga studio, and pretended he never ran into Ms. Kiara. But that was the issue. All it took was one glance at the woman who seemed to shrink into herself from embarrassment.

Jimin tilted his head back as he shut his eyes, letting out a small sigh of defeat. He placed his hands on his hips, gathering all the positive energy lingering in his system. He looked at the instructor once more, offering her his charming smile. "Problem solved."

The instructors seemed pleased, going on to resume their introduction to the class. Kiara found herself slowly shuffling towards Jimin. She leaned in subtly towards him. "Just so you know," she whispered, "I'm going to hate every second of this."

Jimin stifled back a dry scoff. "Likewise."

After the introduction, the instructors started the class with a simple breathing exercise. They demonstrated the position, causing Kiara's eyes to widen before she glanced at the blonde man beside her, who did not react. Soon, everyone, including Jimin and Kiara, got onto their mats and copied their position.

Kiara stared at Jimin while he avoided her gaze completely before cautiously sliding into his lap. The instructor pulled the shades on the window down, blocking out the natural sunlight before dimming the fluorescent lights. Speakers quietly played calm notes of guitar strings plucking and wind instruments. Despite the elements around them, the duo was anything but relaxed. Kiara tensed at the feeling of Jimin's hands on her back while hers wrapped around his neck loosely. Jimin tried to steady his breathing, praying that she couldn't feel how fast his heart was beating. They don't like each other; they haven't liked each other for months, so why did he need to feel close to her?

Kiara inhaled deeply, letting her eyes shut as her breathing began to sync with Jimin's. It was fast at first and slightly concerning until her fingers absentmindedly found the little hairs on his nape. He seemed to relax at the feeling of her fingertips stroking his hair. For the first time today, Kiara felt some sort of peace.

She wanted to pretend it was Taehyung's arms wrapped around her. She wanted to pretend it was his hands gently rubbing against her cool skin, warming her. She wanted to pretend it was his incredibly addictive scent she was breathing in. The sweet smell of citrus and pineapple colliding with a slight spice of black pepper and juniper berries with a heavy hint of vanilla lingering in the background was comforting. Disrespectfully intoxicating. Soothing. She wanted to pretend, but she couldn't.

All of his qualities were opposite of Jimin's.

Taehyung was naturally rougher and more dominating. Slow moments like this didn't come often, and if they did, it would always end with a hand on her ass or boob, groping her and telling her how horny he is. Sometimes, she just wanted to be held, to feel skin against hers in the most innocent ways. She didn't want her body to only be touched for someone else's pleasure.

Her boyfriend also smelled like a teenager who put on too much axe body spray. Kiara preferred something sweeter, more inviting, and easier on the nose, while Taehyung wanted people to smell him before he entered the room. His colognes contained more notes of cedar woods, bergamot, and various citruses—powerful and entirely too much for Kiara. Maybe that's why she found herself snuggling closer to Jimin, her nose pressing against the crook of his neck, causing the area to tense from her simple touch.

"Someone's close," Jimin whispered lowly, causing a pleasant chill to run down her spine. She didn't know his voice could get deeper, and it was a dangerous ability for him to have. His silk voice was already soothing on the ears, but this made it far more enjoyable.

"That's the whole point of the exercise," she mumbled, subconsciously pushing her body against his.

Jimin inhaled sharply, her curls tickling the tip of his nose. He couldn't slow his heart. He couldn't stop his mind, not while she was this close to him. All he could think about was how divine she smelled—a delicate mix of berries with hints of whipped vanilla. Sweetness seemed to be her signature, which he didn't mind. He just ran his fingers up and down her spine, instinctively pulling her closer by her hips. The woman couldn't help the gasp that escaped from her lips as her fingertips gripped his black shirt.

Kiara shouldn't be enjoying this. It was wrong on so many levels. Still, she couldn't help but let her eyes flutter close as she melted into his embrace. She imagined a world where the events leading to their distaste for each other didn't occur. A world where Jimin met her before Taehyung. A world where his gentle touch was normalized, yet still made goosebumps arise on her skin as if it was foreign.

The instructor's voice cut through their moment of peace, placing them back in the reality where they disliked each other. Their separation was slow, almost as if their bodies were rejecting the idea of it. Kiara's eyes met Jimin's briefly before she slid onto the floor and to the space beside him.

The class continued with some regular solo poses before another couple exercise. Kiara sighed deeply, dreading the moment she had to feel Jimin's hands against her skin. This is what she should be feeling, right? Then why did it feel forced?

The class watched as the male instructor demonstrated the pose. It was relatively easy, like the first one, yet Kiara's face flushed with heat. This class was truly meant for couples. She wondered if Taehyung would be interested in attending one with her, but she already knew his answer would be no. The activity was too boring, and with the closeness he would convince them to ditch and never return.

"You nervous or something?" Jimin whispered, sounding almost genuine as he pulled her from her thoughts.

"No!" She snapped at him quietly.

His brows furrowed as he gestured towards the space in front of him. "Then get in position." His tone matched hers without a second thought.

The woman glared at him despite being the one to start the trouble. Regardless, she did as she was told and stood before him. Sweat began to form in the palms of her hands as she felt his hand rest on her hip. She took a deep breath, slowly bending forward as the hand resting in the middle of her back guided her. She grasped her toes between her fingers while keeping her knees straight, causing the back of her legs to stretch. Typically, this was a very relaxing pose, and she usually would've gone a step further and wrapped her arms around her calves, almost pulling her head between her legs. Jimin's presence was a distraction—too significant not to notice—stopping her from stretching further. He wasn't doing much, but his hands gently persuaded her to continue the stretch by applying light pressure on her back while her other hand firmly kept her in place to ensure she didn't lose balance. It caused her face to flush, the feeling of his hands so gentle yet so commanding.

Curiosity flooded Kiara's mind briefly, leading her to glance at the mirror before them. And god, she wished she hadn't. It was enough that she found Jimin attractive—you'd have to be blind to say he wasn't—but with his dark eyes peering over her frame as he stood directly behind her and his brows somewhat furrowed with his head tilted to the side a bit, Kiara was surprised she didn't turn bright red at the sight. Her mind strolled to a dark area, wondering if this were the picture an onlooker would see if he was fucking her from behind. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she quickly looked away. She cursed at herself softly, knowing that specific scene would plague her thoughts for the next few nights.

Jimin inhaled deeply, trying to convince himself to remain calm. She was such a sight to see already, but bent over? It took every ounce of concentration he had not to allow blood to run opposite from his head. Despite wanting to fill the gap between them and press his hips against the woman, he stayed frozen in place. You know better, rang through his head like a mantra. Curse this class for being so sexually charged, as if couples couldn't also mean a pair of friends who like yoga as well. It felt as if the instructors were punishing the duo for speaking up against them. Although, he was pleasantly surprised with how flexible the woman was. He prayed for the moment when the instructors called for a new position, not wanting to deal with this level of torture any longer. And when they finally did, he only removed his hand from her back, allowing her to return to an upright position slowly. He watched Kiara through lowered lids. Why did it seem as if everything she did was purposely seductive? It was like the girl had lust running through her system, expressed through the way she moved and spoke. Jimin didn't back off until he got a face full of her sweet fragrance.

Kiara swiftly returned to her mat. She unzipped her hoodie, feeling as if the area just went up 20 degrees. The woman rid herself of the black fabric, leaving her in a cropped white camisole. She used her hand to fan herself, hoping that the lack of clothing and the cool air would allow her face to return to its usual shade. Jimin glanced at the girl, subtly doing a double take as her chest barely moved up and down to accommodate her breathing. He stared ahead, cursing himself mentally, as he felt he was just about to lose the fight between his head and dick. He made it through having the woman sit in his lap and bent over directly in front of him, but her standing in a camisole was what would do him in?

Fuck, he thought to himself as the instructors started to talk. Hopefully, the shrill voice of the fake-peppy woman could stop him at a chub so he could avoid the embarrassment. The sweatpants he decided to put on weren't necessarily boner-proof. Her curves were so noticeable, so divine, blessed by Aphrodite herself. He totally understood why Taehyung was drawn to her, but how he put up with her slick tongue every day during their relationship was beyond him.

The class resumed its regular poses once again, giving Jimin a break as he focused on his posture. Kiara couldn't help but glance at him now and again. The regular poses had them remain close, causing their limbs to brush each other occasionally. The slight touch was more than enough to cause goosebumps to rise on either party's skin. Almost touching each other should've burned. It should've made them recoil strongly like the heat of a nearing fire. Stolen glances between the two should've created flames fueled by disdain for the other.

But it didn't. For the first time since that fateful night when everything went to shit, they were coexisting. Neither decided to question it; instead, they just lived in the moment, considering it would be the last.

The instructors demonstrated another pose, prompting the duo and the rest of the class to follow. This one didn't seem as sexually charged. Jimin sat on the mat with his legs wide open, allowing Kiara to place herself between them. She leaned back into him, resting her head on the upper portion of his chest. The curly-haired woman tried her hardest to relax against him, knowing that this particular stretch could end with her pulling a very uncomfortable area if Kiara wasn't careful. She let her eyes flutter shut as she tilted her chin toward the ceiling. Her hands rested comfortably on Jimin as if this was just an everyday thing with him—like being comfortable with him was normal.

Jimin was utterly focused. Having Kiara this close to him again could cause some trouble for him. He had already proved to himself that his mind could go to that place easily regarding the woman. The blonde wished he could blame it on the lack of pleasurable activities, but that would be a lie. As Kiara sunk into him, her curls tickling the side of his neck, he reached forward to grab her ankles. He lifted her legs into the air, slowly but surely pulling her limbs to either side of her. Jimin's brows furrowed as he continued to pull farther than he expected her to handle. She let out a soft hum, sounding pleasant to the ears.

Jimin inhaled deeply. He had the girl spread eagle in his lap, pulling her legs back until the side of her head. He averted his eyes, looking anywhere besides the place where any other guy would gaze. He even caught the male instructor staring in her direction for too a little long. The blonde instantly narrowed his eyes at the other, jaw set and tongue ready to slit his throat if the gaze proceeded. Luckily, the man was smart. He was instantly unsettled by his gaze, looking elsewhere while pretending to help another couple. Jimin couldn't help but roll his eyes, lip curling at the thought of him possibly checking out another woman while seemingly in a relationship. Though it was an assumption, Jimin could usually tell taken men from single. The former seemed to move more cautiously or didn't care for anything else around them. The latter always had a wandering eye, interacting with the world's opportunities of the beauties bestowed on him.

Kiara opened her eyes, meeting with the ceiling before looking ahead. The way Jimin had pulled her legs, stretching her abductors pleasantly, felt amazing. She looked at their reflection, gazing at his surprisingly strong arms. Her mind traveled to a darker place where they sat in a similar position, in front of a mirror in the privacy of her home, with a lot less clothing. Kiara was so caught up in her imagination—something she definitely shouldn't be indulging in considering the state of her relationship status—that she didn't notice Jimin's gaze slowly fall upon her, their eyes meeting in the mirror once again. She seemed in a daze to him; eyes glazed over with developing lust. He only wished to get a peek inside of that mind of hers.

When she finally came to, noticing how her eyes locked with his, she glared at him and quickly averted his gaze. Her face flushed with heat, a tedious habit when it came to this man. Kiara hoped he wouldn't see the embarrassment hiding in her rose-stained cheeks, but Jimin only chuckled at the sight, and she was unsure if that infuriated her or granted her relief. She wasn't allowed to ponder her feelings as the instructors commenced wind down, consisting of the duo separating and laying next to each other on their mats. They were only a few inches apart. Jimin's finger twitched, craving an action he knew he very well shouldn't. An hour of grasping her soft skin in his hands should've sufficed him. Yet he was greedy, wanting more of her than they both knew she could give.

Kiara stared up at the dimmed, round light fixtures that hung from the ceiling until little flashes of color invaded her line of vision. She let out a deep sigh, letting her eyes shut. Her mind was a tsunami of thoughts when it was supposed to be a calm lake. Three men crashed like tidal waves on her beach of sanity, when she hoped this class would get rid of them only for a second. She didn't want to think about her annoying boyfriend, her best friend whose eyes seemed to cover hidden feelings or the blonde whose looks should match his ugly personality to make things easier on her. She attempted to drown them with silence—push them so below the surface that it would take days for them to reach the top of the wave again.

The room became brighter as the fluorescent lights turned on, and the instructors raised the shades to let in natural lightning. Kiara heard the other occupants get up and retrieve their stuff, but she remained glued to the floor beneath her. It wasn't enough time. This class achieved the opposite of why she attended. She still felt tense, and on edge, waiting for someone to push her over.

"Well, that wasn't a total nightmare," said a voice above her. The smug tone wrapped around his words dropped like acid onto the girl's face. Opening one eye, she was graced by the image of Jimin slightly bent over, hands in his pockets, with golden hair loosely spreading out and around him like rays of the sun.

"Says who?" Kiara scoffed as she sat up, a cloud blocking his rays. Most of the class had packed their stuff, leaving a few chatty stragglers beside the duo. She gathered her things before standing up and looking at the blonde. Looking up at him, she never noticed how much she needed to tilt her head back. Why did he look like he was glowing under the fluorescent lighting? His honey-glazed skin was smooth and supple, with the faintest freckles on his cheeks.

"Considering the fact that we've survived an hour of pretending we could tolerate being close to each other, let alone touching each other, I'll take that as a win," Jimin smirked while folding his arms over his chest.

"Fucking perv," Kiara grumbled. "You liked putting your grimy little fingers on me, didn't you?"

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it. I saw your face."

Kiara's eyes went wide for a moment before she unknowingly mirrored Jimin's stance by folding her arms over her chest as she shifted her weight to one foot. "I have not the slightest idea of what you're talking about."

The blonde couldn't help but smile as he watched her lips form into a subtle pout, her chin tilting upwards as she tried her hardest to appear snobby. Too bad she couldn't sell it. All she managed to do was look cute. "Yeah, OK, Kiara. Whatever will help you sleep better at night."

"Of course, you would think about how I sleep." Kiara quipped. She didn't know why she always dragged out conversations with Jimin. All she had to do was ignore him and walk away, but something about his little jabs made her want to fight.

Jimin let out a loud scoff. "Don't flatter yourself. You live far from my thoughts at night."

Kiara's brows furrowed, not understanding why that comment would leave her with an uncomfortable pit in her stomach instead of swelling with relief. "Yeah OK." She bent over to pack up her equipment, knowing Jimin's eyes were gazing upon her. She slowly stood up again, regaining control of the situation. She could see how Jimin's eyelids had lowered, plump lips ever so slightly agape as if he was trying to breathe out the lingering desire in his system. "So we're just gonna pretend like you weren't just staring at me, right?"

Jimin's face suddenly twitched, like he was snapping himself back to reality. Heat followed afterward, flushing his skin with a pretty pink. Kiara giggled softly, causing his lips to tug into a small smile despite the embarrassment swimming through him. How the woman managed to shut him up, not once, but twice now, was beyond him. Jimin was the king of clapbacks. There wasn't a soul that could escape his wicked tongue until he met the beautiful girl with wild hair and a smile that could light up even the darkest of nights. He could only sigh, feigning annoyance though he was rather impressed.

"You really think I was staring at you?"

"I know it."

Jimin didn't bother testing his luck again. Something about her threw him off his game, which was not his proudest moment. The blonde couldn't do much but watched as she swayed her hips, strolling towards the door until she stopped suddenly.

"Guess you'll have something to think about at night now," Kiara said just as she walked out of the room. Jimin's jaw fell slightly before he collected himself, scoffing quietly. A part of him was tempted to follow after, to continue the banter they had fallen into.

But he knew better than that.

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

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destieltropecollection · 2 years ago

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DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 8 | Case Fic

I'll Always Come When You Call | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,960 Main Tags/Warnings: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: Cas takes a quick case with Garth that turns out to be not so quick. Dean comes in with the assist.

Blue Like Grace | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,226 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Season/Series 08, Fake Marriage, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Winged Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Interspecies Romance, Angel Marriage (Supernatural), Repressed Bisexual Dean Winchester Summary: Dean ain’t used to getting to “decorate” things. Decorations are usually shit for other people with normal lives. He’d see it on tv when he was younger, in shows people would put up streamers for their kids’ birthdays or whatever. And also in bars during holidays, those tacky shiny things hung on walls and from ceilings. But Dean’s never done it himself. Which means that Cas, right now, is driving him fucking insane.

Just Say It | @curlynerd

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7,494 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon Fix-It, Case Fic, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Ghosts, Day At The Beach, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Finale doesn't exist, (weakened)Angel!Cas Summary: A string of violent deaths at an otherwise charming B&B was all the excuse Dean needed to drag Cas down to Florida for some fun in the sun. Things had been awkward since Cas came back from the Empty and they could finally be together, but Dean was sure that a romantic getaway was the perfect thing to help Cas get out of the training wheels stage of Angel's-First-Romance and start acting like a real couple. Just as soon as they took care of a vengeful spirit. What could possibly go wrong?

Jupiter's Rings | @notastupidbird

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7,527 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Solo Hunter Dean Winchester, Hunters For Hire, Monsters are Known, Case Fic, Meet-Weird, POV Dean Winchester Summary: “No, this is perfect! I was just about to put up a notice today.” Dean stops packing up his stuff and rests an elbow on the table. “Yeah? What for?” The man gives a quick look around the diner and then leans in close. “I got an alien in my barn.” - + - In a world where supernatural encounters are a normal part of everyday life, Dean works alone as a hunter-for-hire. After wrapping up a case in rural Missouri, Dean is just about to hit the road again when a man stops him and asks for help dealing with something Dean's never heard of before — an alien. Never one to turn somebody away, Dean takes the case and finds out that he's in way over his head when he discovers just what this "alien" really is — a fallen angel.

This Angel Is Naturally And Artificially Flavored | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,687 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst and Humor, Explicit Sexual Content, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Undercover as a Couple, Case Fic, Canon Compliant, Autistic Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Surprise Ending Summary: “I don’t understand,” Castiel interrupts. “If you don’t require my assistance, then why did she pray for me?” “Dean, if you go there yourself, nothing’s gonna get done,” Charlie says, clearly resuming some type of argument that was taking place before he arrived. “You can just go with me!” is Dean’s response. “It’s a gay club, you’re gay, it’ll totally work!” “Yeah, if what you’re going for is the world’s least convincing lavender marriage!”

Forest Fever | @amaranthhiding

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8,586 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Post-Ep 12x10, Monster of the Week, Forests, Monster Hunt, Mystery (a little), Hallucinations, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Humor, First Kiss, Emotional Sex, Angel Grace, Dean POV, Sam POV, Dean/Cas Stab Fest 2022 Summary: After the crushing events of episode 12x10 "Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets", Castiel is low on grace and morale. In an attempt to restore at least one of these two, Sam and Dean take him on a hunt. Things start going wrong when Sam gets injured and Cas seemingly disappears. They get worse when Dean turns from hunter to prey for something feeling far more at home in this dark, rainy forest than he does.

Full Fathom Five Thy Father Lies | @ariasune

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 13,575 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel's True Form, Deep Sea Horror, First Kiss, Season 8 Summary: "Look, Charlie thinks the Men of Letters have something that can help you actually, you know, find this monster.” “Good,” Dean licks at his thumb to get the last of the chicken salt clean. “Cause right now it seems like we’ve got a monster that’s some 20, 000 leagues under the sea…” He stops. “This isn’t some 20, 000 leagues shit is it?” “It’s a submarine, actually.” Fuck, that sounds like a yes.

A Midsummer Night's Dean | @payphoneangel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 16,949 Main Tags/Warnings: Casefic, friends to lovers, love spells, love confessions, getting together, canon-typical violence, POV Dean Winchester, Summary: When an uncanny string of deaths lead TFW to California, they're pointed in the direction of a kitschy hotel with a reputation for being haunted. Will they discover what’s causing the love-sickness, or will their stay end in (deadly) heartbreak?

Stranded | @malicmalic

Rating: Mature Word Count: 27,980 Main Tags/Warnings: Deserted island, Case fic, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Angst, Crack, Funny situations, Competitions Summary: Prompt: Cas and Dean are hunting and they touch a portkey/ artifact that transports them somewhere warm and sunny/ place full of couples. Artefact also temporarily stops Cas from flying back so they have to muddle through an activity. Snorkeling, abseiling, anything out of the boys comfort zone. Or how Dean and Cas manage to get themselves into some funny and interesting situations while stranded on a deserted island that isn't really deserted at all.

Under My Skin | @whichstiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 39,596 Main Tags/Warnings: Curses, Fae and Faeries, Fungus, Sex magic, Body horror Summary: Dean and Castiel head to a remote town in the Ozarks to investigate a series of mysterious deaths. In each case, the victim mutilates their own skin, gruesomely clawing at it until death stops their hands. They scramble for answers, trying to solve the case before more victims succumb. In this small town, the only motel room available means that they will be sharing a bed. They've never been more aware of each other, or the potential that lies between them. When they learn that an ancient sex magic ritual is the best way to stop the deaths? Well, somebody has to take one for the team.

Heart Shaped Box | @mittensmorgul

Rating: Mature Word Count: 43,504 Main Tags/Warnings: s15 fix it fic (human Cas, everyone lives), curses, references to past canon/trauma Summary: The bunker is full of dusty old artifacts. Only now that Chuck is out of the picture once and for all, and Cas is fully restored from the empty and in his first days of adjusting to humanity in Dean’s debatable care, does Sam really have a chance to start sorting through it all. The ornate little box he finds feels like the perfect gift for Eileen, but he both wants Cas to feel included and needed, and really wants a strong second opinion on anything in the bunker being safe to give anyone as a gift. Cas declares it a perfectly normal box, until Dean reaches out to give it his own inspection, triggering a spell that will pull them through their own history and open a door to allow them the time and space to settle all the open questions between them. Meanwhile back in the bunker, once the explosion of light resolves, Sam is left with a slightly radioactive looking box and the sinking terror that Dean and Cas had been cursed all because of him. A little trip down memory lane, Supernatural style, ensues.

Lonely Is The Night | @trenchcoatparadigm

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 50,420 Main Tags/Warnings: Prostitution, During Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Monster of the Week, Season/Series 09, First Kiss, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut Summary: “Listen, buddy. You can’t stay.” Five little words that had sent Castiel’s whole world crumbling down around him. What would he do? Where would he go? How would he survive now that he was human? That had been nearly 2 years ago. He did what he needed to get by. Had a roof over his head, just about. Minimal food in his belly, enough to keep him alive at least. And money in his pocket. Dirty, filthy money he earned by offering himself up to people that did unspeakable, sinful things to him. Once an angel of the lord, now left to lurking on street corners, hoping someone would give him the time of day just so he could stay alive. Whispers of disappearances had been rife through 5th street. But when familiar faces start vanishing, Castiel isn’t sure if people were leaving out of fear or something worse. Just when everything seemed its bleakest there was a tiny glimmer of hope, pinging brightly off chrome alloys and glossy black paintwork. The rumbling beast cruising through his neighbourhood, by his corner. He never thought he’d see that car again. The Winchester brothers brought to the city on a new case. A new case that sat a little too close to home.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2023 #destiel #fanfic #case fic #day 8

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aizawasprincess · 1 year ago

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Get Your Shit Together (So I Can Love You)

Pairing: Hawks/Reader

Rating: T

Words: 1,119

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Tags/Warnings: One Shot, Gender Neutral Reader, Smidge of Angst, Double Agent Hawks, Implied League of Villains Work, Medical Procedures, Wounds, Reader Is Implied to Have Some Sort of Medical Training, Not Really Friends To Lovers But On the Cusp of It

Summary: Hawks shows up at your door wounded and unwilling to explain how he got that way. Again. You know he’s up to something bad, something dangerous, but all you can do is put him back together again and wish things were different.

A/N: AAAHHH JESUS FUCK A GIANT SPIDER JUST RAN ACROSS MY CHEST WHILE I WAS CREATING THIS POST

Okay. Okay. I’m alright. It’s good. Everything’s fine.

Anyway so this is a fic I wrote a couple years ago after suddenly waking up in the middle of the night only to type it and pass promptly back out once it was finished. I was going through my fics to go back and start working on another older one when I saw this, re-read it, and decided to post it.

On TV, Hawks always seemed sort of… small. Zipping through the skies so fast the eye could barely catch him. Or standing between the mountain that was Endeavor and the lean height that was Best Jeanist. But now, standing in your living room at 2am, Hawks seems larger than life.

You blink owlishly up at him as he steps through the threshold of your door after offering little more than a “hey, kid, sorry it’s so late, but can I come in?”

He was the number two hero, you certainly weren’t going to tell him no.

“Keigo, wh-“ You stop short as you glance over him and notice red staining the lining of his jacket. A moment of panic bursts through you, and you squeal out a distressed “Keigo!” before settling into work mode.

You grasp his arm firmly and guide him into your bathroom, settling him on the toilet, always careful of his wings, before digging under your sink for medical supplies.

“Do I even want to know?” You ask as you help him out of the jacket and then shirt, assessing the damage. He gives you one of his signature cheeky grins, but you can see it’s strained with pain. He’s got a long gash running from his ribcage to his hip, and it looks deep.

“Probably not.”

You sigh. “And why are you darkening my doorstep at two in the morning instead of at the hospital?”

You’re sure you already know the answer. This is confirmed when you look up and his face has turned grim.

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

You allow frustration to leak into your voice. “I know you won’t tell me that.”

“Look, kid-“

You hear pleading in his voice, but you ignore it and hold up your hand, interrupting him. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Listen, this is bad, and it looks like it needs stitches, which I am not trained to do.”

“But you know how to do them anyway,” he says with a lopsided smile, “and really, who needs a hospital when I’ve got the best nurse in the world right here?” You give him a disparaging look and go to scrub your hands.

Grabbing some antiseptic, you begin cleaning his wound. He hisses and you see his stomach muscles flex as it stings, but you don’t stop. If he was going to play stupid games, he was going to win painful prizes.

“This is going to hurt worse, you know.” You pull suturing supplies from your kit and he grimaces knowingly and nods.

He’s being uncharacteristically quiet, and you stop threading the needle momentarily to look him over. He’s looking away from you, staring into your shower. Even still, you can see exhaustion clinging to him, purple crescents stamped under his eyes and visible despite his eyeliner. A small sigh escapes your nostrils and he glances up at you.

“Here,” you say, and your voice seems too loud to you, echoing off the walls, “brace yourself on me, and I’ll try to make this as quick as possible so we can get some ibuprofen in you.”

You finish threading the needle and grab his hands, placing them on your hips. His grip is light at first, almost tentative, and he doesn’t look you in the eye. Which is fine, because just now, in the quiet of your bathroom, you’ve noticed how intimate this has become, and you can’t meet his gaze either. You set to the task at hand, and his grip tightens considerably.

Once you finally finish, you carefully clean up the remaining blood and bandage him up. You finally let your gaze drift to his face, and find he’s already looking at you. You’re both quiet for a moment. You search his eyes for anything at all that might give a hint as to what he’s thinking. You do not find it, but do find yourself falling into those pools of liquid gold.

You realize he’s still holding onto your hips when his grip tightens. His touch burns you through your pajamas.

“Kid…” his voice trails off, and you suddenly realize how close you are as his eyes trail down your face.

A sudden crash from the living room makes you jump away, almost guiltily, and then neither of you can look at each other anymore. You don’t even investigate the noise; you can hear the bell on your cat’s collar jingle as she runs away from the scene of whatever crime she just committed. You turn to your medical kit and briskly put everything away, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire.

“I’ll get you some clothes,” you say, putting the kit back under the sink, “and then you can crash on the couch.”

You start to walk away, but his grip on your wrist stops you. You look back at him questioningly. The look on his face is intense- far more intense than the carefree hero persona he usually dons.

“Thank you. For everything. You know I- I don’t know how I’d do this without you.”

Your eyes soften, and you twist your arm until you’re holding his hand. “Of course. I’m here any time you need me.”

You squeeze his hand gently, and then go off to find the pair of sweats and t-shirt you keep just for nights like this. Back in the bathroom, you help him to get the shirt on around his wound and his wings, and then leave to let him finish changing.

You’re just finishing setting up the couch when you feel a presence behind you. You turn your head slightly and then jump out of your skin when you see that he is right next to you. You mutter a curse and give him a look. “I’m going to put a bell on you, just like the cat.”

He grins, and you help him settle onto the couch. Glancing at the clock, you realize it’s now nearing four in the morning. He follows your gaze and looks guilty.

“I guess I should really let you go back to sleep now. I really am sorry for waking you.”

You shake your head. “You should get some sleep. You need rest if you want that to heal. I’m going to stay here for a while and watch you to make sure you don’t die.”

You make him take some over-the-counter pain meds, and sit down next to the couch to watch him as he falls asleep.

He wakes several hours later to your head on your arms on the couch next to him, fast asleep. He can’t help the small smile that spreads across his face as he reaches an arm out to rest his hand on your head.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #hawks x reader #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #hawks #takami keigo #bnha hawks #mha hawks #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my fics

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landslided · 7 months ago

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thank you @transvalkilmer for the tag!!

rules: go into your ao3 and find the following:

1. what rating do you write most of your fics under?

general audiences (8), not rated (6). i do not write much explicit content but a lot of my stories are about trauma so they’re not always the most kid friendly work.

2. what are your top three fandoms?

the magicians (tv), IT - stephen king and karate kid! the magicians is a cursed show for wretched people that will always have a place in my heart, IT was a huge moment of joy in my life where i met some of my best friends in the world because of it and karate kid is the worms that eat my brain at all times.

3. what is the top character you write about?

QUENTIN COLDWATER YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!!!

4. what are the top three pairings you write about?

quentin coldwater/eliot waugh, eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier, daniel larusso/johnny lawrence. the lack of lesbians in this top three is so genuinely upsetting i need to write some immediately (maybe alicent/rhaenyra…)

5. what are your top three additional tags?

angst, fluff, canon typical violence. i tend to write very introspective stories or canon divergences so it always ends rather angsty and following canon but the fluff is a surprise!

6. did any of this surprise you?

not really, to be very honest i deleted/orphaned a lot of fics recently (mainly harry potter and marvel ones that felt like they really weren’t up to my own standards and also fuck terfs) so it was to be expected. crazy to think queliot is still number one however… peaches and plums, motherfucker,

i will tag @zappedbyzabka , @russolaw , @miyagi-hokarate and anyone else who wants to do this!!

#*tag game

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animeniacss · 8 months ago

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Seoksoo - imperfect Part 1 - Chapter 4 - Conflicted

Synopsis: Lee Seokmin likes a lot of things: karaoke, stuffed animals, his friends, his family (when they're not at each other's throats), and when things go according to plan. It's perfect that way. That is...until Joshua Hong, the Education Department TA, stumbles into his view one day and suddenly Seokmin has to start facing the fact that maybe not everything in life will be perfect...but with Joshua, that might just be ok.

Tags: College!AU, ActingMajor!Seokmin, Teacher!Joshua, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Side GyuCheol, Side JunHao, Side Verkwan, Other Idol appearances, Anxiety/Panic Attacks, Domestic Violence (not between the main couple), Joshua is a dork 90% of the time, (More Tags will be Added as needed)

Length: approx. 6k words

Chapter 4 - Conflicted

"My midterms start today, I'm nervous."

"You're smart, Kyungie. You'll be just fine."

"College tests are much harder than high school ones."

"Tell me about it. And you're just at community college." Seokmin heard his sister chuckle a bit. "But you'll do just fine. Did you study?"

"Aaugh, you sound like Mom."

Seokmin felt his tongue press onto the inside of his lower lip. "Mom isn't wrong all the time." He heard his sister chuckle a bit on the other end.

"Yeah, but she doesn't have to rub it in my face constantly."

"Don't let that distract you," Seokmin said. It only took the course of Saturday, but it seemed that Eunkyung and Mom had made up a bit, and Seokmin was praying it would stay that way. History showed, however, that they would be back at each other's throats almost as fast as they made back up if not sooner. They were like two toy trains on a circular track, hitting the same beats without fail, and Seokmin was the tired down track that bared the weight as it flew out of control. "Just focus on your test."

"When are your midterms?"'

"The week after next, so I have to start studying right after my auditions."

"Do you think you'll come back home for that three-day weekend you have?"

"I don't know," Seokmin said. "I'll have to see. I'll probably wait until Christmas break since it's longer."

"Awww. What? Do you not love us or something?" When she heard Seokmin suck in a breath, she giggled. "I'm kidding, my God. You're so dramatic."

"Good luck with your tests, Kyungie." Seokmin simply said. "Fighting."

"Fighting! Kay byeeee." Kyungie cheered, before hanging up. Seokmin allowed the phone to disconnect before setting it down on the couch's end table. Seokmin ran a hand along his shoulders, pressing the play button on the TV so the volume could fill the room once again. As the music show on the screen sent pop music through the living room, Seokmin wondered what he would say if he were in the shoes of those stunning idols. They were trained on what to say, on what to do to make everyone around them like them. To keep things running smoothly. He knew exactly what he would say. His own little monologue, written out.

We worked really hard for this. We are very excited to share it with you. Hope you enjoy and support us!

When the TV clicked on a commercial, it forced Seokmin to return to reality, where he was parked on the couch and not on the Korean music stages ready to perform for screaming fans. Reality felt like a punch in the gut, as Seokmin's hand settled on his stomach to nurse the fictional wound it left behind. He had more important things to worry about than the fictional speech he would be giving at award shows, and those important things sent one text at 5 in the morning and then nothing else since.

[Joshua] (5hrs ago): Morning! Is 4:30 still good for today???? :)

Seokmin had replied confirming right when he saw it at 6:30 but had yet to receive a response. He must be busy getting ready a thought that ran through his mind each time he opened the messages to see the same white bubble under Joshua's name. He felt his heart rate pick up just a little bit more each time.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Seungkwan stepped out, tugging his shirt over his head and shaking his wet hair out with a towel.

"Do you need a shower?" Seungkwan asked.

"No," Seokmin called, turning his head. Seungkwan nodded, heading into his room and closing the door behind him. Seungkwan had planned to spend a lazy day in the house today, resting after completing all of the requirements before the midterms began. Seokmin turned to his friend's room, listening for any signs of life. When he heard some shuffling behind the door, Seokmin got up and headed up to it. With one swift knock, the footsteps behind the door padded along the floor, getting louder before stopping. The doorknob twisted, and Seungkwan eyed the man before him.

"Yes?" He smiled, his tone curious as he finished patting his hair dry. "Can I help you?"

Seokmin pursed his lips together. "I have a favor for you."

"What?" Seungkwan crossed his arms, tugging the towel on his head to wrap it around his shoulders. Seokmin's hesitation must have been obvious, because of course it was, Seokmin was an actor but he couldn't act normal a day in his life. He shifted between both feet and looked down at them.

"Well....about this evening." He said. "Joshua-Hyung said he would be coming around like four and...I know you wanted to stay home but...if you want to, could you-."

"Leave so you and your new boyfriend can get nasty in private?" Seungkwan's cheeks scrunched up, tongue poking out of a devilish smile. The hair on the back of Seokmin's neck shot up, tiny daggers in a perfect line and ready to sink into his flesh to erase him from his painful existence.

"Seungkwan!" Seokmin shouted as his friend doubled over in laughter. "Are you out of your mind? No!" Seungkwan snorted, covering his mouth in amusement at his own joke. "Oh my God." Seokmin covered his face. "Is that what you think of me?!"

"No, no," Seungkwan assured. "But if you want me to leave, I can step out for a few hours."

"You sure? Since you wanted to stay home and stuff tonight, I don't want to kick you out." Seungkwan shook his head. Seokmin knew he'd never be able to focus with the thought of Seungkwan's ear pressed against his bedroom door with a glass cup like some sort of spy lingering in the back of his mind.

"I don't mind."

"Sorry."

"Don't be," Seungkwan said. "I can go to the café and get some studying done, it's no big deal." Despite Seungkwan's willingness to leave for a few hours, guilt washed over Seokmin's entire body once again. Seungkwan was too nice, Seokmin knew that. He admired it as much as he envied it.

"You sure? I understand if you want to stay."

"And listen to your desperate attempts at flirting?" Seungkwan grinned. "I'm good."

Seokmin pouted, watching from the door frame as Seungkwan made his way inside his room once again. As he rummaged through his closet, Seokmin looked down at his phone once again. Still nothing from Joshua. But it was only 10 in the morning. Surely, he had time.

Seungkwan grabbed a few options for outfits, showcasing them to Seokmin as he ran through the different things he would say this evening, marking anything that could possibly count as a 'desperate flirt' in the back of his mind. That Joshua-shaped hole in the back of his head did not need to get any bigger.

⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔(im)perfect🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌

Noon came. No messages. Seokmin made lunch for himself and Seungkwan; simple sandwiches and sodas to eat in front of the TV along with something from their huge pantry of snacks. His mom texted him that she was going to pick up some of his favorite snacks for the next time he was in town.

One p.m. Seokmin sat at his desk and worked on some of his study guide for the theatre history midterm. He got through 3 of the 6 pages before anxiety caused him to open his phone up again. Mingyu sent him a photo of him and Seungcheol out on their picnic date, as well as one of their beautiful view.

At two p.m. Seokmin jotted down some more notes in his packet of lines so he was extra prepared. Eunkyung texted him that she finished her midterms and was headed home.

Three p.m. Seokmin took a nap because if he stared between the clock and his untouched cell phone any longer, he was almost sure that his vision would turn it into one of those optical illusions you find in books. Seungkwan was getting ready to head out. Should I double-text? Pounding on the back of Seokmin's skull like a pesky neighbor and he did not want to answer the door to deal with that.

Four p.m. Seungkwan asked if he was going to be okay, to which Seokmin almost immediately assured him he would. He was the one who pushed Seungkwan to leave, so there was no way he could go back on that now. He debated if he wanted to start dinner because he didn't want to eat alone.

When four-thirty hit and Seokmin saw his text to Joshua was still not even read, he wondered if he was too harsh with how he asked Seungkwan to leave, and this was his punishment for that. He figured it wasn't cruel enough.

⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔(im)perfect🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌

Should I text him again? Was beginning to sound a lot more appealing as the clock's hands ticked away, the minutes ticking up by one minute more. Seokmin was pacing in front of the couch, constantly swiping up on his phone to see if Joshua at least read the message.

"Wh...." Seokmin sank onto the couch, rubbing his face with his free hand as he tried to think of what was happening. "Did something happen? Should I call him?" His finger lingered over the green call button, but he decided against it at the last minute. Seokmin looked at the time: 4:59 p.m. He must just be running late. Seokmin thought to himself. Then he thought of it again. And again. And again. And-.

The buzzing of his phone almost sent him into a frenzy, eyes wide as he looked down. A stream of texts came all at once.

[Joshua] (now): I AM SO SORRY!!!!

[Joshua] (now): I'm on my way! I'm on my way!

[Joshua] (now): Please don't be upset with me!

[Joshua] (now): I'm on my way!

Seokmin wasn't sure why his anxiety didn't subside now that Joshua was spamming him with texts. Seokmin looked down at his lines as they sat on the end table, the blue highlighter staring him in the face. The living room fell silent other than the flipping of the script and the ticking of that goddamn clock.

Joshua knocked on the door at 5:30. An hour after he said he would. Seokmin heard the quick pounding at the door. He got up from the couch and made his way over, unlocking it. When the door swung open, Joshua was doubled over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Seokmin saw a plastic bag gripped in one of his hands, which was dragging on the floor at this point. "Hi." Seokmin's greeting made Joshua stand up straight. Seokmin's face tightened at the face that greeted him. A set of bags packed under a layer of foundation. His cheeks were red since he was most likely running, but it did nothing to liven up the pale face staring back at him. Seokmin watched as Joshua finally took a deep breath, and put a smile on his face.

"Hey." His voice was labored but still harbored that cheerful optimism Seokmin had grown to expect in their few meetings. Joshua held up the bag in his hands. "I brought cookies."

"Cookies?" Seokmin cocked an eyebrow.

"My mother always told me it's polite to bring something when you visit someone's house, and I wasn't sure if you were big on plants." Seokmin took the bag in his hands, peering inside to see a little plastic tray of chocolate chip cookies from the grocery store nearby.

"Oh...thanks." He said. "You can come in." he motioned inside and Joshua nodded, running a hand through his hair. He admired Joshua's fit because it...well...it was something. An oversized white tank top and a pair of faded jeans ripped both from style and seeming overuse. Seokmin glanced down at his shoes as they were kicked off and set in the entryway, a pair of black chunky boots. Seokmin watched Joshua look around, before turning back to Seokmin as he closed the door. One thing remained the same, however, his stunning facial features and colorful beaded necklace. "What are you wearing?"

"Oh." Joshua chuckled shyly, scratching the back of his neck. "I was in such a rush I didn't really have time to pick a nice outfit."

"Oh."

"Sorry about being late. I just-." When Seokmin saw Joshua take a deep breath and pause to reply, he felt a tight grip on his chest. The look on Joshua's face felt familiar.

Sorry, I was late, Seokmin. Something came up.

Something came up.

"Don't worry." The words slipped past Seokmin's lips so quickly it almost scared him, and he saw Joshua blink in surprise. "You're here now, I'm sure you have your reasons."

"Right." Joshua nodded. He looked around the room and smiled. "This is a cute place. You and Seungkwan are the only two that live here?"

Seokmin nodded. "Yeah." He stepped into the living room. Immediately, he went into host mode. "Do you want a drink or something?" Joshua put his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he watched Seokmin head into the kitchen.

As Seokmin poured two cups, he turned to Joshua again, setting him on the other side of the kitchen table. With a nod, Joshua took it. "So-." he pressed the drink to his lips and took a sip, Seokmin gripping the cup as he watched. "Are you ready for your auditions on Friday?"

"I think so," Seokmin said. When he saw Joshua smile, Seokmin felt compelled to mirror the action, just slightly. "I have most of the lines for the character memorized. So whatever part they ask me to start at I'll be okay."

"Do they ask you to sing?" Joshua grinned.

"Uh, yeah just a verse or two. They won't ask to do a whole song unless you get a callback. Since so many people are going to audition." Joshua nodded.

"Can I see the script?"

"Sure." Seokmin took his own glass and headed to the couch, grabbing the script and passing it to Joshua. He sat on the other end of the couch, kicking one leg over the other and leaning back. Seokmin studied him in the silence. He really was stunning, even in what seemed to be a very last-minute outfit choice. Joshua flipped through the pages, skimming.

"Can you show me what you got?" He asked, handing the packet back. His finger pointed to the first section that was highlighted. "Start here."

"You just want me to go?"

"That's the best way to start, right? Show me exactly what you want to do when you go in for that audition." Seokmin looked down at the paper before him, quickly skimming the top highlighted part. He nodded before glancing up one more time at Joshua as he turned his attention towards Seokmin, a completely straight face and focused eyes directed at him. He gulped, nodding his head before opening his mouth to speak.

Seokmin first auditioned for a play in fifth grade, for the school's festival. They were putting on a play of 'The Green Frogs', where Seokmin landed the role of one of the frog brothers who didn't want to listen to his mother. He took the role very seriously, practicing day and night, reading to his sister and getting upset when she wasn't able to read all of the lines back. Seokmin loved preparing for the play. He loved staying after school so he could practice with the other kids. He read the folktale that it was based on to his sister every night, even when she got sick and tired of it because he was just so excited.

He remembered collapsing into a sobbing mess in his room the night before the festival when the costume his mother crafted did not look exactly the same as it did in his mind, the green not being the same shade as the one in his imagination. To this day, he never told her that he didn't like it and brought it to school mentally prepared to be run over with teasing comments from the other kids in the play. His teacher said he looked cute, though. He's acted in every single school play since and decided he wanted to do it as a profession at 14. It's the one thing in life he's never regretted, the one hole in his Swiss cheese brain filled with memories he actually wanted to go back and remember.

When Seokmin made it through the long monologue, his throat was hoarse from the strain he put on it. His mouth closed, eyes casting up to Joshua on the other side of the couch. When he saw Joshua's stunned expression, his cheeks went hot, and he attempted to cover them with the script packet. His eyes darted to the side, staring at his own reflection on the TV.

"Wow," Joshua said, pulling Seokmin's attention up. Joshua leaned back in his seat; arms crossed over his chest. "This role was made for you!"

"...Yeah?" The compliment made Seokmin's eyes sparkle a bit, his voice oozing happiness. Joshua nodded.

"Oh yeah." He said. "If you don't get the lead, I'll be shocked." Seokmin chuckled a bit.

"If you're trying to inflate my ego, it might be working." Seokmin looked back down at the script in his hands, skimming the next section of lines.

"What? I'm dead serious! Read another part." Seokmin cocked an eyebrow, and Joshua smiled. "Go on. Wow me, Lee Seokmin." He smiled. The brunette chuckled a bit, biting his lip shyly.

As the evening went on, Seokmin read some of his lines for an awed Joshua. Each time he looked at Joshua's smiling face on the other side of the couch, munching on the snacks he brought as he listened. As Seokmin finished the last of the lead's lines, he closed the entire packet and set it onto his lap.

"Wow." Joshua smiled. "You're pretty good."

"Just pretty good?" Seokmin blinked. His expression made a smile perk at the corner of Joshua's lips. "Before you said I was destined for the role."

"Well yeah-." Joshua bit off a piece of his cookie and smirked. Once he swallowed, he leaned back. "It's because I'm not auditioning. So, in comparison, it's pretty good." Seokmin chuckled a bit.

"Oh, right. Extra One and The Tree, correct?" Joshua laughed a bit, covering his mouth with the hand that was clasping the half-eaten cookie. Seokmin saw his nose scrunch and his eyelids curl up in half-moons. It made Seokmin smile just a bit himself. "If you think you're so talented-." He tossed Joshua the packet, the sound of the paper hitting his lap making him look back up in surprise. "Let me see you read them."

The quiet minutes between Seokmin tossing the paper and Joshua picking them up made Seokmin shift nervously. Was he too forceful, did he take the joke too far? He couldn't really read Joshua's expression beyond confusion, his eyes scanning the script tossed onto his lap. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were pursed together in a dramatic fashion. When his eyes shot up to Seokmin, he finally was unable to hold back an amused snort.

"What?" Seokmin asked.

"Nothing," Joshua said quickly. "I uh...I'm just taking a second. Getting into the role and whatnot." He offered a cheeky grin at Seokmin, who only nodded as he watched. "Alright, alright." he hit the page with the back of his hand.

Joshua opened his mouth and began spewing the most dramatic - most likely intentionally so - monologue Seokmin had ever heard. His small smile of amusement broke into a grin of joy, clapping his hands together as he watched the serious sight before him. Joshua read one entire monologue, committed to the bit in the best way with his voice changing to sound somewhat royal. As he wrapped up the monologue, Seokmin laughed, hands continuing to applaud him in amusement. "That was great, Hyung. Truly."

Joshua laughed. "I told you." He said. "You must feel better knowing I'm not auditioning, hm?"

"Oh, much better." Seokmin assured playfully. Joshua grinned. "I was nervous for a second."

"I could put all of Hollywood out of business if I wanted too." Joshua's playful arrogance made Seokmin nod in agreement. "Seriously, though."

"You're pretty good at emoting." Seokmin said. "How much of that was serious versus funny?"

Wide eyes made Seokmin choke back another laugh, Joshua putting his hand on his chest. "I was actually being 100 percent serious, thank you. In fact, I was hoping you would have recorded me so I could send it in for my future auditions."

"I thought you weren't going to use your talents to wipe out the entire acting industry." Joshua shrugged, his grin turning cheeky in a way that made Seokmin's heart skip a beat.

"Well, if you're going to be an actor too, I might have to reconsider."

Seokmin blinked. "What?"

Joshua coughed into his hand. "What? Despite oozing natural talent-."

Seokmin immediately diverted from his previous comment, face scrunched up in disgust at the phrasing. "Ew."

Joshua snorted. "I think that I still don't hold a candle to you." Seokmin chuckled a bit. "You looked natural doing it. I could watch it all night."

Seokmin blinked. "Hm?" His cheeks warmed up as the words hit his ears. "You could? It's just me reading lines...."

Joshua nodded. "I know." He said. "And I could watch you read lines all night." Seokmin's eyes immediately fell to his lap, wide in shock as he took in what was just said to him. And he said it so confidently, too! Did he have no shame in his flirting ways? He pressed the back of his hand to his cheek. Unable to read Joshua's face, a small chuckle of amusement from the other side of the couch.

"Ehe, thanks." He said. When he finally had the courage to lift his head back up, it wasn't because he wanted to look at Joshua. Well, he did, but he was too flustered to do so at the moment, only opting for a quick glance at the necklace on his neck. No, the reason he lifted his head up was because his phone vibrated from the coffee table, lighting up as a message popped onto his screen. He leaned over and grabbed it, immediately being met with a message from his sister. He couldn't read the entire thing, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to right now. Even when Eunkyung was in a good mood, a text message from her felt like a gamble and he was not feeling lucky. He must have flipped his phone over quickly, because Joshua was also staring at his phone now.

"Everything okay?" he asked curiously. Seokmin sucked his cheek in between his teeth, nodding.

"Yeah." He assured. "Just my sister."

"You have a sister?" Joshua's eyes sparkled, his voice perking up as he asked the question. "That must be nice. I don't have any siblings."

"Oh." Seokmin felt jealousy raging through his body, but that feeling of jealousy was immediately replaced with guilt for even feeling it in the first place. "Yeah, she's four years younger than I am. She just started college this year back home."

"Awww, that's nice." Joshua smiled. "If she's anything like you, I'd love to meet her."

Seokmin wanted to laugh but he bit it back and swallowed it down so hard it made his throat burn.

"She's something..." he choked out. "A character is maybe the best way I can describe her." Joshua nodded.

"I'm sure you can do better than that." Joshua got comfortable as if he was waiting patiently to hear a long story.

Seokmin shrugged. "There's not much to say-." Yes, there is. "She's going to school for business marketing, I think. But she also wants to go to the States and be a journalist." Seokmin chuckled. "She's got big dreams, I guess." Dreams she can't afford to achieve. Joshua smiled. "She's a bit dramatic, but I guess all 18-year-olds can be a bit sometimes." Not to her extent. "But we get along pretty well for the most part, I guess." When she steps out of the trenches for a few days. "I've always kind of admired her, she's a bit more outspoken than I am." There were no inner thoughts, as this was the truth.

Joshua smiled. "She must be fun."

Seokmin paused for a second. "You could say that." He said, her frantic shouting pounding in his ears like drums that refused to stop beating.

"I wish I had siblings," Joshua said. "Sometimes, at least. Being an only child was only fun for a little while. It'd be nice to have someone around sometimes."

"Oh?" Seokmin watched Joshua's eyes cast to the TV in front of them, then to the cookies he got on the table. Then, he fell to the flipped-over phone on the side. "I don't think you'd say that if you actually had siblings."

"Yeah, but it's not all bad, is it?" Joshua asked.

"No." Seokmin said. He thought of his time back home growing up with a little sister who admired his every move, who desired to grow up and be just like him even though he didn't think there was much to aspire to. He remembered styling his sister's hair each day, or helping her with her homework when it was too hard for her. She loved her older brother, and Seokmin loved her. "No, I guess not."

Joshua smiled at the soft expression that formed on Seokmin's face. "Well, that's good. I'd love to meet her one day." His insistence on the idea of meeting his little sister made Seokmin nod.

"Yeah, maybe." Was all he could think of to respond in hopes of ending the topic there. As silence once again threatened to fall over the duo, Seokmin tried to think of something else he could change the subject to. If silence lingered for too long, Joshua would grow even more bored than he probably already was from hearing about his sibling's ramblings. Seokmin watched Joshua examine his nails for a second, picking at one of them in an attempt to fix a hangnail. He was wondering what beat him down to his feeling of anxiety bubbling in his chest when a bit ago he was beaming and laughing. He wanted to go back to that. He wanted to make Joshua stay just a bit longer. "I know you said you ate but...do you want to stay for dinner?" Joshua looked over, smiling at the offer. "I can make spaghetti."

"Spaghetti?" Joshua chuckled, and the embarrassment that washed Seokmin was hard to contain.

"Well, yeah." He said. "I was going to try and think of a good reason for cooking that, but...." Seokmin laughed nervously. "I watched a movie that was set in Italy last night with Seungkwan and the pasta looked really good." Joshua laughed.

"I love pasta," Joshua said. "That sounds great." Seokmin rose from the couch and headed into the kitchen, Joshua following behind. Seokmin gathered what he needed to start the meal, Joshua settled himself against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Seokmin set the pot on the stove and turned it on, seasoning the water a bit and allowing it to boil. "I think I have some chicken too that I can grill up."

Joshua's eyes sparkled in excitement, nodding as he watched Seokmin grab the meat. "Do you like to cook?" Joshua asked curiously, watching as Seokmin cut up the meat. Seokmin shrugged, finally feeling the tension that he wrapped himself in a bit ago begin to unwind himself once again.

"I guess." He said. "My mom is a good cook. But I took a lot of the cooking when my mom worked late."

Joshua hummed. It seemed he wanted to ask a follow-up question, his mouth opening and closing once again as he made the decision to ask in the moment. He opted not to, closing his mouth and simply watching Seokmin grab a pan, setting it beside the boiling pot on the stove. "I can't remember the last time I had pasta. I think I was still back in Los Angeles."

Seokmin looked at him. "It must be hard being so far away from your home." Seokmin turned when Joshua said nothing, instead using his teeth to play with his lower lip, tugging at it in every direction so he seemingly did not have to speak. "Oh. Sorry, is that a personal question?" Seokmin asked. Good going, idiot.

"What? Oh, no." Joshua replied almost a bit too quickly. "It was a big adjustment when I first got here, but I think I've managed okay." He smiled. "I plan to go back home for a bit when I graduate next year, before I start job hunting."

"Ah." Seokmin nodded. He still felt bad for making Joshua uncomfortable, but he kept his mouth shut as he put pasta in the pot and put the chicken on the pan to grill it up. "What made you want to come all the way over here? Do you have family in Korea?"

"Grandparents in Busan." He said simply, resting his elbow on the counter to support his weight. "I planned to just stay in America and get my teaching license and probably just teach in LA, but-." He shrugged. "We came here to visit after my first year in college and I really enjoyed it. I couldn't stop thinking about moving here, so I did."

"Wow." Seokmin admired his ability to make such a major decision so easily. He couldn't even begin to process how he would tell his family if he were Joshua. The thought alone was enough to threaten dizziness, so he abandoned it immediately. "That's impressive."

"You think?" Joshua sounded sheepish. Seokmin nodded. "Well thanks, I guess."

The duo stood beside the food as it cooked, the time ticking away among casual chatter and a few giggles. By now, Seokmin had settled into a comfortable routine, standing on a familiar stage as he laughed and chatted for Joshua. He felt comfortable here, on a stage where he played a good and funny host. It eased him for now. As he felt the steam of the boiling water tickling his cheeks, he watched the noodles soften and the chicken browning on all sides.

"So, you watched a movie that took place in Italy?" he asked. Seokmin laughed, nodding in slight embarrassment.

"Yeah." He said. "It was a pretty good movie from what I remember seeing but it was pretty late and I was half-asleep." He peered at the water as it continued to boil. "I only remember one part of the movie because it made me laugh." Joshua was clearly curious, and Seokmin found himself blushing more.

"Well now you have to tell me." Joshua begged. "What was it?" Seokmin continued watching the food cook, flipping a few of the chicken pieces to allow them time to cook evenly.

"Ah, uhm. Alright, the characters were all sitting around the table, and the main character was meeting with these major producers for modeling, I think." He shook his hands out at his sides, Joshua grinning at the sight. "And when they clinked their glasses, they said an Italian greeting." He sighed. Pinching his fingers together, pointing up like a flower waiting to bloom, he shook it with a shout: "SALU-TE!"

Immediately, Joshua doubled over, covering his mouth as he laughed. Seokmin covered his face, laughing despite the embarrassment that threatened to course through his veins.

"Salu-te." Joshua echoed into his hand behind a laugh. "Oh my God, that was great!"

"That was so embarrassing," Seokmin murmured. When he looked out from his hands, Joshua was still grinning in his direction.

"You need to go to Italy and shout that, just like in the movie." Seokmin laughed at Joshua's suggestion. "Come on, do it again."

"What? No!" Joshua laughed again. "I can't believe I even did it once!"

Joshua stepped closer to the stove, putting his hands on his hips. "Come on, aren't you an actor? You shouldn't get so embarrassed!"

"I want to die." He covered his face once again, and Joshua only continued laughing in amusement. "Please forget you ever saw that. Erase it from your memory, please." He squatted down in front of the stove, hoping if he did, he would curl away from the embarrassment that kept threatening him. He was laughing a bit, a smile on his face that he hid away behind shaking hands. Despite this, the Joshua-part in his brain formed pointed hands, all directed at him as they laughed and laughed at him. He hoped that by laughing and smiling it would convince them that he was unbothered, but it only served to tell Seokmin that he wasn't as good an actor as he thought he was.

However, a shadow cast over Seokmin's face, between his fingers, and the laughter went silent. He lifted his head to see Joshua knelt down in front of him, laughter subsiding a bit but his smile remaining. Seokmin's initial thought was shock at how close he was now, but his hands lowered to his knees. "I thought it was very funny." He said. "...In a cute way."

"Oh." Seokmin said softly. Joshua nodded. "It felt very stupid coming out of my mouth."

"Not at all. At least, I didn't think so. It was cute." He seemed to notice Seokmin's nervous tone, as he was speaking gently and easily. His reassuring voice felt like a spring breeze that trickled through the window of the theatre where Seokmin was standing.

Seokmin looked down at his hands as they squeezed his knees. The pointing and laughing fingers were ushered out of the theater that was Seokmin's brain, leaving him just standing on the stage with the stage lights flickering over him. He scanned the audience, now seeing Joshua in front of him where the pointing fingers once were.

Seokmin's eyes dipped down from Joshua's face, and landed on the necklace that sat on his neck. He had been meaning to ask about it, and his desire to change the subject was as good a reason as any. "Did you make that?" he asked. Joshua seemed confused at the question, but Seokmin pointed towards it. "The necklace."

"Oh." Joshua looked down, putting a hand to it. "Yeah." He smiled. "It's a hobby of mine."

"Oh...." Joshua seemed to notice Seokmin's facial features softened a bit, eyes focusing on each bead now that he was close enough to do so. They were mostly white, a few colorful ones scattered throughout to add a pop of color. He even noticed a little pink smiley face on either side, resting right around his collarbones.

"Do you know how to make them?" Seokmin shook his head, and Joshua offered only a gentle smile in response at first. "I can show you if you want. It's pretty relaxing."

Seokmin liked the idea of doing something relaxing. He liked the idea of doing something relaxing with Joshua. As Joshua stood up, offering a hand down to Seokmin, he reached out and took it. Joshua's hands were soft, both in touch and in movement as he guided Seokmin back to his feet. He was still smiling.

"Let's do it after your auditions." He said. "Does that work?"

"Yeah..." Seokmin said.

"I'll come see you so we can make plans right after. I want first dibs on your schedule before you get busy with callbacks."

When Seokmin heard Joshua's promise to make it to his audition, his eyes flashed to the clock on the wall. He already began planning out the schedule for that day, and the uncertainty of Joshua's arrival was something that he did not like. Not at all.

He simply smiled at Joshua and nodded. "Okay..." he said softly.

Return to K-Pop Masterlist

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ao3feed-peterstiles · 9 months ago

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Break My Baby

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55766665 by Baby_Sweetpea After the Nogitsune, Stiles is falling apart. After being kicked from the pack, he gets the hell out of Beacon hills with support from his dad. How long is it before others find him, can Chris and Peter show they’re what Stiles needs, how important he is to them? ______ “Scotty-“ He started, breath caught in his throat. “Allison and Chris left Beacon hills.” The Alpha cut in, and barrelled over the apology that Stiles had sitting on his tongue, the taste quickly turning bitter and rotting as though he were the one falling to pieces. Maybe he was. “It’s over, Stiles. I should have done this ages ago. I, Alpha Scott McCall, officially evict you, Stiles Stilinski, from the pack.” Words: 2532, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M, Multi Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Cora Hale, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Malia Tate, Allison Argent, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Melissa McCall Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John (Teen Wolf), Spark Stiles Stilinski, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, POV Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Top Stiles Stilinski, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Established Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Good Chris Argent, Dom Chris Argent, Protective Chris Argent, Good Peter Hale, Protective Peter Hale, Sane Peter Hale, Lawyer Peter Hale, Pack Alpha Peter Hale, Derek Hale is a Softie, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Smut, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Oral Fixation, BDSM, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of Scott McCall's Pack, Stiles Stilinski Leaves Beacon Hills, Author is australian sorry for american innacuracies kids, Other Additional Tags to Be Added Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55766665

#ao3feed #fanfic #teen wolf #steter #peterstiles

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randomlytangerine · 1 day ago

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Mild gore warning

[AS]

Had this idea, wanted to draw it

#mrpuzzles #smg4 #mr puzzles #askpuzzles #ask puzzles #mr puzzles smg4 #puzzlevision #smg4 fanart #[as]#angst? on my kids rated tv show?

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cupoftaae · 2 years ago

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Forever And A Day (KTH x READER) series ♡ Epilogue .....

Summary: your lifelong friend is forced to face his true feelings for you once he breaks the number one rule of becoming friends with benefits: dont fall in love. He knows he loves you, but you on the other hand need more convincing of the most important thing: the right decision.

Genre: fwb. Roommates, friends to idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, the whole 9 yards tbh.

Pairing: taehyung x female!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni!!!)

A/n- this takes place years after the previous chapters.... I hope you enjoy it m'loves.

-Nini

Taehyung was your one true love.

And that was always so obviously apparent to onlooking eyes.

"my love...I don't think those are for you to pick-"

"shhh" Taehyung reached up and grabbed another apple from the tree, tossing it into the bowl he carried in the other hand.

You two had recently made an expensive upgrade from your small city apartment in Busan to a small cottage house in Gwangju.

Your mothers health had not been the best within the past year, and it became difficult to travel over to her so often, so Taehyung made the decision to move closer for convince, now she was more accessible.

He also appreciated the smaller atmosphere of the country side, he actually had a yard now, which he was going to take advantage of immediately.

You've only been in the new house for a month and a half and he's already burning bridges with the neighbors, who are a much older couple and dont seem too pleased with the idea of 20 something year olds living beside them.

"didn't they "accidentally" mow over your new flowers?" tae points out, as if its some competition with the 62 year old husband next door.

"he apologized" you cross your arms, watching your boyfriend pick from their fruit trees.

"we need a fence" he suggested, proudly showing you the bowl of fruit. "what? you are upset?"

You raise an eyebrow as he stands beside you.

"we can make apple pie, baby!" he smirked and walked to the side, entering your house as you giggled, following behind. Apple pie does sound convincing, you have to admit.

He walked to the kitchen and placed the bowl down, smiling at you as you picked up Yeontans toys scattered around the living room. "you know.." he adjusted his farmers hat that he insisted he bought so he fit the role of the town, "im gonna build you that porch swing you always wanted"

"yeah?" you giggled, listening to his voice from the other room.

"and I'll build you a nice white wooden fence around here.." he points out the window, "so we can have all our privacy, and then I'll build you a treehouse, so when we have kids we can hang in there and we can paint it and-"

You hug him as you walk into the room, taking his hat off as you put it on yourself. "youre so caring and considerate, my love"

Taehyung blushed and hugged you back, "because I love you"

"i love you too, country boy" you poked his chest, smirking. "and you know we can build the tree house now, why wait for kids? we can have fun in there I think. Put a tv up, snacks, pillows-"

"I dont think thats a good idea" he raised an eyebrow

"taehyung we arent gonna have sex in the tree, stop it" you giggle, looking at the apples he picked. "what time do we need to leave?"

He turned to look at the clock, "um, in an hour"

"oh shit, Im gonna go get ready now"

"you do that, lil lady" he teasingly smacked your butt as you left the room.

Taehyung informed you that he was taking you out on a small date tonight, but refused to disclose exactly where or why.

It was not often the two of you got to go out together anywhere, He had to transfer jobs when you both moved, meaning he went from a college art teacher, to a full time elementary school art teacher, which was in his words, "more enjoyable then teaching college kids".

Meanwhile, you were lucky enough to join the arts and culture center as an activities director, meaning you helped out plays and performances as well as acting in them. It wasn't too different from your job in Busan, the only real change is the people you worked with were much younger and around your age, which helped make you feel more comfortable.

bottom line, You and Taehyung were working all the time every day, leaving weekends the only time for you two to be alone. So when he told you he had something planned, you didnt want to question it too much, instead, you wanted to appreciate it.

A while later, you both had hopped into the car, he drove to the unknown destination while you put lipstick on in the overhead mirror of the passenger seat.

"please dont hit the pothole, I want to look good not like a clown" you mumble, lining your lips with the dark red coloring.

Taehyung giggled and looked over, "you do look good, baby, seriously" his hand rested on your thigh.

"did I overdress?" you look at him, "you wont tell me where we are going so I assumed to wear something sort of nice?"

He nodded, "you look amazing, not overdressed, promise"

You trusted his word as you pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant that reserved near a small lake, it really was beautiful, and for someone who grew up near the area, you've never seen or heard of this place before.

The sky became dark as you two walked in, he smiled and made sure to hold your hand, his cologne creating a comforting aroma for you.

"hi! reservation under Kim" he mumbled to the woman as she checked the laptop.

"for 3?" she looked up

"yeah" taehyung glanced at you nervously as you raised a brow.

"three?"

You followed the waitress to a window seat where you were met with your mother sitting, she had a wide grin plastered across her face as she saw both of you two.

"mom?" you giggled, running over to hug her as she sat in her wheelchair

Tae smiled softly as he stood behind you, a hand on your lower back before he hugged your mom too. Once you both sat down, you stared at taehyung waiting for an explanation as to why, although a pleasant surprise, your mother was here on date night.

He cleared his throat, "I just thought we could all use a night to just sit down and eat without having to worry about cooking" he smirked, your mother trying to hold in her giggle as she agreed, "yup"

You seemed confused, you didnt mind cooking a dinner for everyone if she wanted to come over to your house, but you suppose its the thought that counts.

Throughout the meal, you all shared small conversations that seemed casual, other than the fact your mother and taehyung kept sharing similar glances, making you suspicious.

"is there some kind of joke I dont know about?" you suddenly spoke up, pouting as you took a bite of potato.

"no baby, why do you say that?" he asked, reaching to hold your hand

"dunno.." you shrug, looking around.

Taehyung began to grow more nervous and fidgety as the night went on, even more so as you excused yourself to use the restroom.

Your mother put her hand on his back, whispering, "dont be nervous, taehyung, youre giving it away you know" she laughed

Taehyung ran his hands over his face, "ahh I know but...what if she-"

"she loves you, she wouldnt have put up with your shit this long if she hadnt"

"true..." he chuckles , sitting up as you return to your seat.

"lets order dessert" your mother suggested, making you nod and smile

"good idea, do you guys wanna get the ice cream float and we can all share it? its pretty big.."

Taehyung was suddenly too anxious to even speak casually as he looked at you "yeah, sounds good." he spoke flatly, his eyes drawing to the live band that sat across the room you were in. He smiled and got up, walking over to them as you and your mom discussed dessert.

"hello, do you take requests?" he whispered, hopeful.

"we do!" the man cheerfully replied, taking his earpiece out so he could here the young boy. "what would you like to hear?"

Taehyung looked back to make sure you werent paying attetion, "well...um, do you guys think could play this?" he showed him his phone

Return to me, Dean Martin

That song held a certain significance in yours and Taehyungs relationship.

every couple had a song, and that just happened to be yours.

He had a deep love for music from the 50's, constantly playing vinyls throughout the house that echoed most nights as you came through the door after a long work day.

You loved to consider Tae a classical romantic, the kind to make you a cd with all of his oldies on his after you two get into a fight, which he's done before.

Taehyung returned to the table, smiling at the dessert on the table as you lifted the spoon to his mouth, "taste it baby, its so good"

He chuckled, taking the spoon and wiping his lips, "that is good my love"

He reached out to hold your hand over the table as you began talking, your mother couldn't help but tear up at the sight of how much love was budding between her daughter and this boy so obviously.

The current song playing through the restaurant came to an end, and taehyung nervously swallowed his wine, his foot bouncing not going unnoticed to your eye.

The gentle instrument began, alerting you immediately as you stopped mid-convo with your mom to look around, gasping, "tae! its our song! they are playing our song!"

Return to me Oh my dear I'm so lonely

He smiled gently, looking across at you as your face lit up. God, you were so beautiful. "yeah, it is..." he mumbled, eyes only drawn on you.

Hurry back, hurry back Oh my love hurry back I'm yours

you turned to your mom to explain how you and him always hear this song on the radio, like it follows you everywhere.

"lets dance?" he gently nudged your hand, nodding towards the center of the room where much older couples swayed slowly in the dimness.

You blushed, "now..?"

"why not, baby?" he took one last sip of his wine, hoping to gain any courage he could as he stood and grasped your hand, slowly leading you away from the table to the floor.

Your mother pulled her phone out and filmed, if you werent so caught up in taehyung right now you would have noticed her not-so-slick grin.

His hands rested on your hips, pulling him closer as you looked up at him, blushing once more.

"why you always so shy, baby?" he whispered, nudging his nose against yours.

"im not" you reply, giggling

"mm yeah you are"

You shook your head, swaying with him slowly as you rested against his chest. In that moment you heard his heart beating rather quickly.

"why is your heart beating so fast?" you whispered, closing your eyes."

For my heart wants you only Hurry home, hurry home

"is it?" he played dumb, resting his head against yours.

The softly played music and warmness of his body against yours made you almost forget where you were. You didnt care if people stared, you felt so in love in this moment, and almost protested for another song as it came to a close.

Retorna me Cara mia ti amo Solo tu, solo tu, solo tu, solo tu Mio cuore

Taehyung took a deep breath and exhaled, spinning you around slowly as he looked at you, in a way youve never seen before.

"taehyung?"

He smiled gently, the instrumental playing in the back as the floor cleared out.

"Y/N" he whispered, grabbing your hand as he slowly sunk down to one knee. Your heart froze, hand covering your mouth as you immediately caught on.

"y/n"....he looked up at you with eyes so nervous yet hopeful, you wanted to cry out of the amount of love you had in your body for this boy. "I...Ive loved you for so long, you are my other half and have always been. Without you, theres no way I would be here today as the person as I am, you make me a better man, and I cant imagine going a single day without you beside me" he was now crying as he spoke, the entire room watching with careful eyes, "we know eachother better than anyone, and all I want to....all I want to do baby is love, and spoil, and take care of you for the rest of our lives. Let me make you mine, forever, my beautiful girl" he whispered as tears of your own fell.

Suddenly his previous behavior made sense, watching him reach into his back pocket to pull out the small black box.

As a little girl, you dreamed of this moment, the moment someone will love you enough to offer you their life and promise to treat you with care. You began to fear that moment would never come, but now as you stand here with the love of your life, looking at you so passionately with the ring in his hand as he patiently waited for your response,

It was straight out of a fairy tale.

"will you marry me, beautiful? and let me pick apples for you for the rest of time?"

You giggled, wiping away your tears as you nodded quickly, "y-yes, yes! over and over again, yes" you have him stand so you can kiss him, the room erupting in applause as you do so.

He kissed you deeply, pulling away and pressing his forehead to yours, "I love you..."

"I love you too.....so much"

You watched as he slid the ring onto your finger, making everything seem so real. "oh, wow...this is so beautiful" you sniffed, leaning against him as you looked at your hand.

"yeah? you like it baby?" he smiled, kissing your head, "im glad"

You made your way back to the table to hug your mom, who, by the way, was an absolute mess.

"I filmed it all" she spoke, wiping her teary eyes.

"were you behind this, mama?" you giggled, kissing her cheek as she nodded, "you know I always am"

You looked at taehyung as he sat with you two, nodding.

"about a month ago after we moved here, I spoke to your mom about me proposing, and she gave me her blessing under one condition..." he trailed off

"that im here to see it" she finished softly, making you smile sadly.

"oh mama..." you sniff, hugging her again.

Your mothers health has taken a turn for the worse recently, leaving things a lot more difficult for you. Time and life is never a given, so for taehyung to go out of his way to make sure she was here to see such an important moment, knowing how much it means to you, made you love the man even more....if that was possible.

"thank you" you whispered to tae, looking at him with teary eyes.

He wiped them softly, kissing you delicately. "My baby, I love you so much"

Once the night was over, you and Taehyung were sat inside of your house once more.

It felt different, like someone flipped a switch and suddenly life was a lot brighter. You still had your entire future to see, and now taehyung has just promised to be there with you, and to share each beautiful moment. Things could not have been lovelier.

"I cannot wait to be your wife"

"and I cannot wait to be your husband"

You giggle, brushing his hair back with your fingers as your eyes glued onto his, the bed was warm, large blankets covering your bodies.

"I seriously.....dont know what I would have done without you. I never assumed I would marry my best friend" you whisper, thumb brushing his cheek. "Im lucky enough to have known my person my whole life"

He smiled warmly, palm placed on the back of your hand. "we dont have to worry about what ifs, or ever fear being lost again, yeah? I'm never gonna leave you"

You kissed his nose before nuzzling into his neck.

"I adore you...and I cannot wait to see all of the adventures life has in store for us" he mumbled, rubbing your back.

"I cant wait either....i just hope everything goes smoothly"

"oh things will be crazy, we attract crazy" he teased, earning a laugh from you, "but we can handle it.....we always do."

"yeah, we do" you whisper, looking down at the shiny ring that now sat proudly on your finger.

it symbolized a new chapter in your life, and God, you were so ready to enter it headfirst with Taehyung. Through thick and thin, you were his.

Let the story begin.

A/N-

AHHHH im kind of sad this is over, I apologize if this is rather short, but I wanted to keep it quick and sweet because I didnt want to add too much plot into the finale. There will be a drabble series following their life coming soon, I already planned it out and im so excited for it! Thanks again to my amazing followers who read my chapters weekly and support me, I love you all so much and I hope we can all have this experience with future works I put out.

Taglist-

@turnthepageandbeburnt @taebangtanbabe @borahaexoxo @lelefoodlover @tan-veee

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #kim taehyung fanfic #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut

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galactic-academia · 2 years ago

Text

Through The Door

Rating: T (for language)

Category: F/M

Fandom: Justified

Relationship: Raylan Givens x F!Reader

Tags: Language, angst, fluff, pining, age gap (10 years), making out, mention of violence, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of suicide (but in a cynical way, no one seriously thinks about taking their own life here)

Words : 4K

Summary: Once upon a time, Raylan Givens was the very center of your universe and you would like to think you were – at least – his favorite Moon. Then he left you behind. Now that you're face to face again, what's going to happen ?

Notes : Not canon compliant: no Winona here and Raylan left Kentucky later than in the show. This is dramatic, 4K of desperate pining 😅 I would like to say I don’t know what possessed me, but that would be a lie... 😶 Anyway, I’m not a native, please, forget my mistakes and I hope you’ll enjoy 🤗💖 Dividers are from animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines | Timothy Olyphant Masterlist

You look down the garden alley leading to the road as the movers puts furnitures up and piles card boxes in every room. Lexington, Kentucky; out of all the lost, forgotten-to-God, shitty places the U.S. Marshals Service could have hidden you, they chose here. All of this because you chose to not keep your damn big mouth shut - no, Hell - because you couldn’t keep it shut, never could, never would. There wouldn’t ever be any point to, now, and what could be worse than this? Whatever the answer could be, a bullet in your own temple still could solve all your problems if the time ever came, anyway.

A deep voice, far from unfamiliar, calling for your Marshal-turned-babysitter for the day wrenches you from the contemplation of the dead wildflowers. Dear God, the bullet in the head might come sooner than expected, in the end.

«If ain’t Raylan Givens in the flesh, I’ll be damned!»

You know it’s him, you would recognise his stupid, handsome face anytime, anywhere. The incomprehension written all over his face, though? It almost makes you doubt. Sure, he’s far older than the last time you saw him, and he looks like a cowboy in a shitty tv show, but the all-seeing, deep, big brown eyes? The cocky smirk? That aloof, arrogant stance? Uhuh, you’re positive, that can’t be anyone else but him.

The surprise turned into suspiciousness doesn’t make him less attractive, but the words coming out of his mouth do make you want to slap him.

«Do I know you, Ma’am?»

Ah! He doesn’t recognise you! Alright, then.

«No».

You don’t plan on explaining yourself furthermore and, after a few moments of awkward silence - when he finally understands he will have to pry if he wants anymore informations, he asks, «But ya know me?»

«Yes». Then, you turn on your heels to go back in your rented-house. It’s been a long time but knowing you were right all along, all these years ago? That you were truly insignificant to him, to the point he can’t make you out a few years later? It stings.

When you were a kid, Raylan was your god. Without any big brother to protect you, it had seemed easy to the little sandbox scums to pick on you, until a fifteen - almost sixteen! - years old Raylan, passing by the elementary school on his bike on his way back from high school, had witnessed two little boys holding you while a third lift your skirt. Two of them went back home with soiled shorts and the third - who’s been stupid enough to try and push you to the ground after Raylan had promised them a hard time if they came near you ever again - with a black eye. That day, six-years-old-you had won a friend, a big brother and a protector all at once.

Not a day passed without Raylan stopping by the playground to check on you since then, until the day your turn came to go to high school, hand in hand with Raylan - or dangling off his arm - with him carrying both your bag and his more often than not. Boys of all ages - including the densest of them - came to understand that messing with you meant messing with Raylan Givens and therefore black eyes, broken arms, lost teeth and aching groins. Even tough he went to college while you stayed in high school, no bullying of any kind would stay unpunished. You did your best to return the favour: breaking windows, puncturing bike tires, stealing and then hiding school bags (for the homework to never be found again) and even, in one memorable occasion, pushing in Harlan’s lake all the little thugs you knew were bothering Raylan. And when his father beat the shit out of him, you would always manage to pass some treats off to him, sometimes with the help of Miss Helen.

There was no Raylan without you, and no you without Raylan. All the girls threw themselves at him, and they hadn’t anything to fear of you - unless your «adopted» big brother had something to complain about them, of course - until you reached something like fifteen. Until your first seventeen years old boyfriend freaking cheated on you and you ran crying into Raylan’s always-welcoming arms. Maybe nothing would have changed - he would have comforted you, let you bundled into one of his sweat by his bed while he beat the inanity of the culprit, then take you out for some ice cream or something like that - if, as the freshly twenty-five young man he was, he hadn’t been hangover as all hell, and maybe even a little drunk still, and did the only sensible thing he could think of at that very moment to make you shut up: grab the back of your head and plant a kiss square on your lips.

It was nothing, just a little peck. The kind you gave the great-aunt who had come from the other side of the country to see you on the day of your First Communion. A desperate, non-violent measure to quiet the noise you made and that kept him from thinking. But, on your side of the story, it has been a revelation.

«Are you fuckin’ serious?»

Raylan was dumbstruck already and Gutterson’s reaction just made it worse. He has been sent to Hell for no apparent reason, right? So why was he the bad guy here?

Turning to his fellow deputy, he chose to answer the question by another question: «What the fuck just happened?»

«You tell me!» Tim was truly offended, crossed arms, exasperated tone and all, «It took me two fucking hours to get her out of her office! Two true hours, not just saying! You point your nose here and bam! She locked herself in this godforsaken office once again! What did you do this time?!»

«Me?! I just... Hell! I just ‘pointed my nose here’ as you put it and I got yelled at on every side!» The Marshal was beginning to lose his temper; he could be blamed for a lot of things, but being dishonest wasn’t one of them. He truly had no idea about why the new U.S. Marshall Services’ protegee was mad at him, he was burning to learn the answer, though. «Who’s this gal, anyway?»

«For fuck sake, Givens!», Marshall Gutterson rolled his eyes before putting his hand to his forehead, even more tired than angry, «Did you even read the fucking record? Or just the memo requiring you here?»

Raylan did his best to look indignant but Tim spoke again before he had any chance to find a good defence, «Don’t bother, I know you didn’t or you would at least know the fucking name of our witness».

«Alright, I didn’t , ok? Art told me to get my goddamn ass here, I did as I was told», the ‘for once’ was only implied, but the force of this implication only helped Gutterson to resigned himself to his usual sassy-self and just sigh your name to his colleague.

The following absolute lack of any smartass remark on Raylan’s side immediately told the deputy something was wrong, and if it hadn’t, the fact that he looked like he had seen a ghost would have.

«You do know her, then?»

«Shit, yeah...»

«And you did something to her?»

«Mate...», Raylan still looked aghast and, somehow, a little amazed, «If she took a fucking gun and shot me right this instant, I would go to the trial and advocate that I fully deserved it.»

Eyes round and mouth a little open, Marshal Gutterson watched his colleague shook himself out of his trance - going from stunned to determined - and ran to the door you were hiding behind, regretting to not have bring any popcorn.

Once again, Raylan Givens could - and should - be blamed for a lot of things, but one never gets bored with him!

The truth - sad as it may be - is that you never loved anyone but Raylan. You tried before, with your shitty first boyfriend, and you tried... After. When you were sure you would never see him again. But it never worked. They weren’t him.

The abrupt understanding of the nature of your feelings towards the one you qualified as a big brother didn’t really change your relationship. Raylan did beat the shit out of the fucker who has attended to your honor and came back to shower you in attention as he always did, and if you had been clingier, or needier he didn’t say anything about it. But less than a month later, he had disappeared. Without an explanation, without a word, without saying goodbye. Miss Helen said he was alright, that he had to leave for his own good. You couldn’t disagree with that. But surely he would come back to take you with him, right? Or at least write, so you would know when he would come back. Or phone.

He couldn’t just have left and let you there like that.

Your turn came to leave Lexington three years later. Three years too late. You came back only when you couldn’t avoid it and hoping - each and every time - that you would run into him and... Throttle him? Throw yourself in his arms? But Raylan never came back and, one day, you stopped coming back altogether too.

You had boyfriends out of Lexington, sure. They weren’t all that bad, but still, never as brave, or as kind and certainly not as piggy headed as the asshole that left you behind. They didn’t know how to make you laugh like him, how to comfort you like only him could. How to make you feel safe. They couldn’t even break your heart as perfectly as Raylan did.

You heard quiet scratches on the door against which you had slumped followed by his voice, low and muted by the wood, but so soft it made your heart ache, «Lil?»

Ah. He remembers, now.

«Lil... I’m so sorry...»

Lil. No one has called you that fore more than fifteen years. He has ever been the only one to call you that, ‘little one’ or ‘lil’. It became a habit, a nickname. Something just between the two of you.

«I figured you would want to... talk? I have some explanations to give, yeah?»

You’re sure he looks even more awkward than he sounds; apologizing has never been Raylan’s forte. You weren’t often mad at him, but when you were, a few words, playful kisses all over your face or a battle of tickles would settle everything. Nothing was important enough to endanger what you had.

«Are we gonna have this conversation through the fuckin’ door? Out of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the grumpy one, remember? Lil’?»

You can resist. He can’t kiss or tickle you right now, only talk. You have survived without him for the last fifteen years, ignoring him won’t be a big deal.

«You gonna make me beg, don’t ya? Hell, you wouldn’t believe how many assholes would pay a pretty penny to hear me beg you to open this fucking door, you know? I don’t beg. I don’t. But for you, I will.»

Hell, you forgot how the fucker can sweet-talk anyone into anything. You don’t say «no», to Raylan Givens, it’s physically impossible - to you, at least. You want to smash your own head on the wall, but you’re smiling.

«Baby», oh no, not that, «Baby, please, open the door». His voice is nearer now, like he dropped to his knees on the other side of the door. And his voice’s gone a little rough, you would think him on the verge of tears, if you didn’t know better. «If you want to hurt me, I’ll let you, I deserve it. I will let you yell at me. You can insult me. Or even just ignore me, but I need you to open this door, please. Let me see you. Let me know you’re ok. Baby, please.»

You always loved when Raylan called you «baby». It was a rare treat meant to either placate you or emphasize a praise. You’re drowning in it, now. A loud, choked sob startles you into the present moment, you didn’t even notice you had started crying.

«Ok», his voice is so soft now, you’re surprised you still can hear it trough the wooden panel, «I’ve said everything I could while on this side of the door. Now I’m gonna wait for you to go outta there and then we can speak some more. I’m not goin’ anywhere, take your time.»

Hugging your chest, you lean your head against the door. You should be proud of yourself: for the first time in your life, you were able to resist to Raylan Givens. Thanks to a door that blocked out everything except his voice, but still a victory. Maybe you could taste a parcel of it if the gaping hole that took place in your chest fifteen years ago wasn’t aching like day one once again.

The truth - the real one, this time - is that you never loved anyone but Raylan, because you never stopped to love him. Ever.

You stayed a few hours holed up in your hiding place before nature started calling. By two in the morning, it wasn’t a call anymore but a summoning. That was what got you out of your office; had you locked yourself up in your en-suite bedroom, the problem would never have occurred.

You cracked the door open as silently as you could; you were sure Raylan was still somewhere in the house, as he told you he would, but maybe you could run to the bathroom without him noticing. And you will have to face him one way or another, you couldn’t stay hidden forever anyway. But a few extra hours to put yourself together before it wouldn’t be unwelcome. With this beginning of a plan, you were ready to give it a try, but certainly not prepared for what you saw once the door truly open.

Raylan hadn’t left, neither the house, nor the hallway for he was fast asleep on the floor, back and head resting against the wall right next to the door. In a way, you shouldn’t even be surprised, it’s not unlike Raylan to be dramatic like that. But the Hell if your heart doesn’t miss a beat and then try to escape through your throat. And now that you’re looking at him, you can’t stop. The bastard has always been handsome, with this carved jaw and those hair - God, those hair - and those deep, sparkling eyes thankfully shut for now, but jeez... With the beard? The salt and pepper? He’s not a boy anymore, he’s a man now, a true one. He’s never been more attractive. And asleep? Soft and vulnerable like this, with his stupid hat resting next to him? God help you, it’s a fucking miracle that you’re still set on bypassing him altogether.

You take a few tentative steps in the hallway, careful to not bump into him, to be as quiet as possible. But it’s a lost cause.

«Little one?» His voice is rough with sleep, hushed, like you will vanished if he speaks louder. The grip he has on your calf is slack, you could easily shake him off and run away. You don’t. «I should quit calling you that, you’re all grown up now. Look at you.»

If you turn around, it’s over. If you look him in the eyes, there won’t be any going back.

«Are you going to kick me while I’m down here? You can, you know; as I said, I won’t try and stop you. But before you beat me to pulp, you should let me apologize. Not sure I still will be able to when you’ll be done with me.» He’s so calm, yet so sure you’re going to trounce him. He knows he deserves it. He’s resigned. He’s wrong.

«’M not gonna hit you.»

«Would you look at that? She does have a tongue, after all!»

Maybe you will - hit him - maybe it’s the only way to make him understand, this fucker. Before you can realise, you’re on the floor, straddling his never-ending legs, a hand up ready to strike him square in the face and the other holding him by the collar of his shirt. He’s wincing, waiting for the blow to fall, not even trying to avoid it, like he promised. But you can’t.

Stomach plummeting, sick by your own weakness, you start crying, hiding your face in your palms. He abandoned you without a glance back, didn’t even recognize you, he’s making fun out of you after charming you out of your safe place, and you can’t even slap him. Maybe you deserved all of this, maybe you did this all to yourself.

As you’re spiralling down, you feel two strong arms enveloping you, shielding you from the world as they’ve done countless times before, and you can also feel your body - this traitor - immediately relax in their hold, like it never forgot you’ve never been safer than between them.

«Shit, baby... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean... It wasn’t meant to be nasty, I wanted... It was stupid, I’m a damn fool, but I think I’m not telling you anything new here.»

The more he talks and the more you’re sobbing, hunched on his lap.

«Shh, don’t cry little one, I’m here, you’re safe, everything is alright, ok? I wanted to make you laugh and I brilliantly failed, that’s all. I’m so glad you finally went out of there! C’mon...»

You almost can’t breath, mainly because Raylan is hugging you to his chest - tight - but also because you can’t stop relief to flood you. He’s there, and it’s enough to make you feel better, even if it doesn’t make any sense.

«Will you look at me? So I can see those beautiful eyes of yours? Mmh? Can you even breath in there? It doesn’t look like. Hey, sweetie, I need you to take your hands out of your face, don’t want you to stifle.»

You can feel his hands lightly resting on both your wrists, at first, before they become heavier and heavier and manage to gently free your face. You open your eyes and, through your tears, everything you can see is him.

«Here she is, my pretty baby! Hello there.»

His smile is blinding, lighting his features up like the sun would the world. This is why Raylan Givens ever had and ever will have you wrapped around his finger, because you would do anything to be on the receiving side of his smile. It’s his best asset, more persuasive than any weapon. It makes him look soft. It kills you. He’s back, he’s holding you, he’s cooing sweet nonsense in your ear interspersed by kisses all over your face. This is everything you had ever wanted, everything. You could die now and claim to have lived your dreams. Later, you will hate yourself for this, gone is the tough, independent woman you ever claimed to be. You’re trembling in his arms and, without thinking at all, you kiss him. It’s barely a press of lips, at first, a brush; a ghost of a kiss. You feel more than you hear Raylan’s surprised gasp before he initiates another kiss, a little firmer this time - a caress on your mouth, delicate like the wings of a butterfly, but it sets you on fire. You part your lips, letting out a silent whimper, and he comes back for more with a little, electrifying lick that finds your tongue and sends shocks trough your entire body. He groans, and everything speeds up from there. You tangle your fingers in his hair as he hold your waist and pushes you against him with one hand and hold the back of your head with another. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to escape the all consuming, nasty kisses Raylan feeds you. Even when you’re forced to come up from air, he doesn’t let you go, his forehead pressed against yours.

«I am sorry,» he whispers, «I am sorry for letting you behind. I am sorry for making you sad. But I need you to know that, if I had a second chance, I would do it again.»

Your heart has stopped. You’re sure it has. You try to jerk away from Raylan, what you will do, you have no idea, but you can’t stay there, tangled with him on the floor, not when he’s ready to abandon you again. But his hold is strong and he’s not done with you.

«You need to understand...», his eyes are so gloomy and he sounds so distressed, you would think he’s the one who’s been left behind without a second glance, «I should have said something, I should have phoned, but, in the end, it was better for you, you... You deserve so much better than me.»

It snaps. Your sorrow, the endless despair you let yourself drown for so long, your fear, your distress, your regrets, the disappointed hopes, the anger directed at him - and at yourself - all these things you felt for the last fifteen years, they gather in ball in your sternum, just above your stomach, and turn into rage. You don’t slap him, no, but he’s still holding tight onto you, so instead of jerking away, you violently jerk towards him, the back of his head hits the wall.

«Aw!»

To his credit, he doesn’t try to push you away; but you’re too mad to pay attention to it.

«You cut the bullshit right there, Givens! You left this hell hole because your fucking father would have ended up killing you, you had to leave, you had no choice. But don’t tell me you left me behind for my own sake. Who are you to decide what I deserve or not? Who do you think you are to take that decision for me? If you didn’t want anything to do with my anymore, just say so. If you don’t want me right now, just say so. You’re many things, Raylan Givens, but you’ve never been a coward, so don’t start now!»

For a few heartbeats, the only thing to disturb the heavy, thick silence is your laborious breathing. Raylan is stunned, looking at you like a fish out of water. Then he’s on you, kissing the living daylights out of you.

«’M sorry, I’m sorry», he mumbles in-between kisses, «’M fucking moron, gonna make it up to you, do want you, fuck, I do, I’m so sorry...»

You’re still mad at him, you’re exhausted, your stomach is empty, you need to go to the loo now, your head is spinning and your knees are starting to ache by dint of supporting your weight off the floor, but you’re kissing Raylan back fervently. There will be time for more explanations - and probably more arguing - tomorrow. Right now, you don’t need anything more, not even to breath. Just Raylan.

The next morning, when the Marshal Gutterson comes to your house to take his shift over, he can’t hide his surprise at finding you on the couch, tucked under Raylan’s arm, asleep and smiling. When he left the evening before, his fellow deputy was begging through a door, after all...

«Ok,» he breaths, trying to be heard without waking you up, «how did you do that?»

«’M not gonna lie», Raylan answers with a grin, looking tired as all hell, but more at peace than ever, «I’m a lucky bastard and I don’t think I d-»

«If you say you don’t deserve it,» you mutter from your resting place in the crook of his neck, «I’ll change my mind and truly hit you, this time, Givens!»

THE END(?)

Thanks for reading ❤️

#raylan givens #raylan givens x reader #raylan givens x you #justified #justified fanfiction #timothy olyphant

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ao3feed-birdflash · 11 months ago

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#IFTTT #fanfic #dick grayson #wally west #dickwally #birdflash

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jasonbehrs · 2 years ago

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⏳ what eludes you now ⏳

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

“You could have asked for one hour.” Insights into Johnwan’s love story measured in one hour increments.

fandom: love is for suckers / love that will freeze to death characters: park jiwan, john jang | jang joon, yeoreum and jaehoon mentioned ship: johnwan genre: romance, humour themes: fluff, angst and its resolution, 6+1, fatphobia mention, sexual assault mention word count: 11.8k+ rating: T+

read it on ffnet, aff, wattpad, ao3, or below!

~~~

A/N (2.23.2023): Title from Eat Your Heart Out by Walk the Moon. This fic is dedicated to Dez, who bears my Johnwan brainrot with enjoyment and responds in kind.

WARNING for #3. I describe fatphobia and its effects on Jiwan briefly. I also discuss Jiwan’s history of sexual assault in non-grievous terms. Between the way she talked about it on the show and the fact that Johnwan get canonically married, I am taking the liberty of presuming that Jiwan’s healing leads to empowerment with regards to her sexuality and needs. Of course, recovering from trauma looks different for everyone and may not include that path. That all being said: if you wanted a hurt/comfort, first-time-esque kind of description to Johnwan’s sex life, you will not be finding that here.

~~~

1. substitution

John can't believe his luck. Not only did his manager get the time for his Kingdom of Love 2 interview wrong, but the old hag told him it's not worth it to go somewhere else in the meantime when all he has to do is wait for an hour. Hello, it's an hour. He could be working on his deltoids or enjoying a glass of Chambertin Grand Cru with all those minutes!

Instead, he's waiting in the hallway outside of DNA TV's conference room for an interview which should really have been waived for him considering a) he's already done business with the station before and b) said business was only successful thanks to his face and personality anyway.

Yeoreum said they'd interview him early if the 11:30 doesn't show up for her timeslot, but that still means he has to occupy himself for thirty whole minutes in the best case scenario. He tsks. So annoying.

He grumpily settles onto a bench and elects to hate-watch Paik Jongwon's latest youtube video with one airpod in to help pass the time. Not long later, someone takes a seat a few places down from him. He doesn't bother looking up to acknowledge that the person exists, which is more than can be said for the other's behaviour.

"Excuse me. By chance, are you Chef John-nim?"

He straightens out of his slouch in offense at the soft, hesitant voice that dared call his attention. The owner looks like an anthropomorphised garbage bag mated with a Cabbage Patch Kid, and he is less than impressed.

"Yeah, that's me."

She titters a bit in excitement, but she actively reigns it in. He might have appreciated it if only he didn't subsist on attention. "I'm a big fan of Ramen Chef! I watched it every week."

John scoffs. She'd be the only one, and the reminder of that utter failure he had participated in only worsens his mood.

Misunderstanding his scoff as one of disbelief, the woman continues, "It's true! After the final episode aired, I was so sad about it that I rewatched it and followed along as you cooked. It ended up that I didn't have most of the ingredients you used, but that didn't stop me! I just replaced things with what I had, like mung bean paste with doenjang and enoki mushrooms with beansprouts because at least they look the same—and daebak. It didn't taste like any ramen I had before!"

There are noticeable stars in her eyes as she recounts the anecdote, but he stares at her aghast. "Well, of course it didn't. You replaced two of the most crucial ingredients! It probably tasted terrible!"

The bubbles of the woman's effervescence are popped, and she blinks rapidly as she comes back to herself. "Ah. I did, didn't I?" she says with a sheepish shrug. "Those aren't even the only parts I replaced... Well, I still liked it. To be honest with you, I'm not much of a chef," she admits as if he couldn't tell by the everything about her. "That's why my mom owns the restaurant and I—"

"Park Jiwan-ssi?"

Yeoreum waits at the open doorway to the conference room where the new phase of John's life will begin, and the woman stands up to answer her. "Yes, that's me!"

The two women enter the room together, and the door closes on John's flabbergasted face. Not only is Garbage Patch Woman apparently auditioning for Kingdom of Love 2, but she showed up for her interview on time, which means he still has thirty more minutes to kill!

To make matters worse: dissatisfied with ruining his life, she had to go and ruin his recipe, too. He worked hard on those! He made up a brand new one for every episode of that godforsaken show. She had the gall to edit it according to her limitations and claim she loved his cooking? 'At least they look the same,' he mocks in his mind.

He refuses to stand for this, so he gets out of his seat. He spent enough time at the DNA TV headquarters to know where Yeoreum's workstation is, so he goes over and filches a memo pad and a pen. Thirty minutes is more than enough time.

He is still reviewing the paper before him with a critical eye when the conference room door opens again. He looks up with wild eyes, and Yeoreum mistakes his eagerness.

"Yes, yes. It's finally your turn." She gestures into the room with a sarcastic wave of her arm, but John ignores her in favour of stopping the woman, whose name he has already forgotten, from leaving.

"Listen, I get it if you can't afford Hokkaido-farmed enoki on the salary you earn from cashing in the plastic bottles collected off the side of the road, but that's no excuse for leaving your fridge and pantry bare of the necessities. Here." He hands her the paper he had written on while waiting. "This is a list of value brand ingredients that wouldn't offend me if you used them in my recipes. Do yourself a favour and go shopping after this, will you?"

Garbage Patch Woman accepts the list with both hands. "Oh my god. Thank you, Chef John-nim. I will!" She bows gratefully, and she doesn't stop until Yeoreum intervenes, saying it's John's turn to be interviewed.

Yeoreum waits until the other woman is far enough away before chiding, "Yah. You didn't have to talk to her like that." She enters the room without hearing his response.

John shrugs her off then takes a moment to himself before following after her. He needs to be at his most charming for the next 30 minutes, and someone ruined his mood.

God, it's been a while since someone got under his skin like this.

~~~

2. crosshatch

It's no secret that John fell for her words first.

Jiwan is as genuine as he is fake. She cannot help but say what she thinks and feels, a trait that would be dangerous if not tempered by her decorum and natural propensity for kindness. There are no ulterior motives or hidden meanings to her words. For a man who continually forges himself from the fires of insecurity and greed, Jiwan's authenticity in the way she speaks makes him feel more like glass than steel.

Transparent and fragile are not the attitudes you're supposed to have when your girlfriend asks you such an innocuous question.

"Come again?"

"Would you let me draw you?"

He senses that there is a right answer by the way she does not equivocate in the face of his silence, which has gone on a tad too long at this point. He ultimately decides to ignore his silly trepidation, and Jiwan squeaks in excitement when he nods. "Be right back!"

She returns with an A3 sketch pad and a few pencils then resituates herself in the love seat she was previously occupying. "Okay! Please continue what you were doing before. Don't pay me any mind." She sends him a toothy smile then focuses on the open book in front of her.

John gamefully settles back onto the couch, but he can no longer relax as he did before.

As charmed as he was by her way with words, he can't truthfully say he's ever given much thought to her visual art skills (though he proudly announces he's dating the web cartoonist Park Jiwan whenever he catches up with friends and colleagues). The shameful realisation that he has been utterly disregarding half of his girlfriend's livelihood is certainly part of why he was so uncomfortable with her request.

The other part is that he doesn't get it.

It's a lazy morning on a day with no schedules. Before she turned his world upside down—as she seems to have a knack for doing—he was simply hate-reading articles of Paik Jongwon's latest variety appearances on his tablet while drinking a mug of Moroccan coffee. He doesn't have his contacts in, he doesn't have BB cream on, he doesn't remember the last time he washed the sweatshirt he's wearing… yet this is the version of him Jiwan wants to memorialise in graphite?

He has modeled before. He has plenty of experience in sitting still and looking pretty, but the pretty part is controlled. Intentional. He isn't like Jiwan, who only needs a smile to tie her whole outfit together. If there is a subject worth capturing in this room, it's her.

Like the days of Kingdom, John sneaks glances at her to pass the time. Stretched out on the couch as the sun shines into her living room and watching his love do what she loves, John can finally relax again.

"Okay, thank you!" Jiwan chirps.

He lurches out of his slouched position. "That's it? You're done?" He looks at the time on his tablet, surprised to see that almost a full hour has passed since she asked.

His girlfriend nods with a sweet smile. "I appreciate your patience." She gets up to put her sketchbook away, but he stops her with a shout. When she turns to look at him expectantly, he flounders a bit. He hadn't gotten that far in his head. "Well… Can I see it?"

She is clearly thrilled that John asked. Before the shame can fully take root, she tugs him down to squeeze them both into the loveseat, and a rush of affection surges through him instead. She used to be so afraid of taking up space when he was around. She still is, sometimes, but not right now.

Jiwan eagerly offers the whole book to him with both hands, just like she did her love. He accepts it with the same propriety, then his eyes rove over the paper.

The sketches littering the open page depict his full body in the various poses he apparently held himself in while daydreaming on the couch. Though rough in quality, as a set they evoke contentment and domesticity. That is him in these sketches, and yet he is still jealous of the subject for looking so at home.

"This is very impressive," John breathes out.

Jiwan cheers a bit at his earnest praise. "There's more!" She flips to the next page, which contains far fewer sketches. In one corner, it is the grip of his hand on the tablet. In another, the press of his lips against the rim of his mug. The center displays the bangs which he usually keeps out of the way hanging messily over his forehead, right above the rim of his glasses. A stark contrast from the figures on the previous page, everything is so hyper-realistic that he itches to open his selfie camera and compare what he sees to what she drew.

Like never before, he understands now what Jiwan means when she says she can feel his emotions through his food. He is made to remember such innocuous moments—the nights when she sits in the kitchen just to watch him nimbly chop ingredients, the blush on her face when he smiles at her, all the times she tells him he doesn't need to wear gel at home—just by looking at the page.

"Is this what I look like to you?"

Jiwan tips her head curiously. "Hm? What do you mean? You don't think they look like you?" She frowns as she inspects her sketches with a discerning eye, trying to identify improvements to help the subject recognise himself better, which is just so Jiwan.

John chuckles freely as he cups her cheeks to bring her in for a kiss in lieu of a proper response, unheeding of her concern and subsequent surprise. It takes only a moment for Jiwan to let go and enjoy the affection, and the sketchbook eventually falls off his lap in their ardour.

The sound surprises her enough to pull away, and John blinks into awareness to find an embarrassed Jiwan averting her eyes.

"Um. Thanks for letting me draw you."

He loves his girlfriend when she is confident and persistent, but this Jiwan is too cute. He brings her drawing hand to his lips to leave a kiss on her knuckles. "It was my pleasure," he says in English, knowing full well the effect it has on her.

John reaches down to hand the sketch pad back to her, but his attention is drawn to the page it fell open to.

"What's this?"

'This' refers to a four-panel comic in Jiwan's classic manwha style, and the characters portrayed are unmistakably the two of them.

Jiwan blushes as she snatches the book out of his hands. "Stop looking at me like that!"

He doesn't know what he looks like, but he feels delighted and deeply surprised. "Is this the new trend for the web cartoonist Park Jiwan-ssi? Raunchy, suggestive humour? I have to get WEBTOON on the phone; I bet they'd love to know," he teases as he tries to get the book back. He needs to get a picture of that.

"John Jang! Don't you dare!" she squeals as she escapes his determined hands. He playfully pursues her through the house, taking note of the joy lining her eyes and her peals of laughter despite her admonishments.

For a woman who always means what she says, Jiwan doesn't always say what she means. He may have fallen for her words first, but falling in love with her means learning the difference; and that attention to detail proves there is strength in clarity.

~~~

3. chemistry

It's a little embarrassing, but Jiwan understands. To an extent, she's even grateful for it. Her relationship with her body was complicated enough thanks to the fatphobic rhetoric she's heard her entire life. Add in the ways she was abused in middle school, and it's no understatement to say she spent more time ignoring her body and pretending it isn't there than treating it like an actual part of her.

With age and therapy, though, things are different. She loves herself the way she is, and she wants to be loved for it, too.

John, however, refuses to get the memo.

They haven't gone any farther than touching over the shirt, no matter how she tries to convey that she is more than okay with going further. What is the point in dating the Fourth Most Eligible Bachelor in Seoul if fans can see more of her boyfriend's body in magazines than she can in real life?!

Once, John called her cute 'like a Cabbage Patch Kid', and she thought nothing of the sheepishness and odd note of contrition in his voice at the time. Looking back, she's now entertaining worries that he considers her childish, that he doesn't see her as a woman. She resolved to do whatever it takes to change his perception of her tonight.

Luckily, two of Jiwan's best friends happen to embody every conceivable tenet of Korean femininity, and they were more than happy to help.

Under her coat, she's wearing the sheer and lacy babydoll set Jiyeon assured her was becoming and beguiling. The bluetooth speaker is playing a mixtape Yeoreum made of mood-setting, sensual tunes. The perfume she knows John likes is applied to both typical and strategic locations. If the two of them don't see any progress tonight, they never will.

When she finally hears the front door unlock, she allows herself a self-satisfied glance at the clock in the entryway. She timed her preparations well: it's only been a little less than an hour since she herself got home. She positions herself at the top of the stairs, visible from the front door.

"Jiwan-ah!" John calls distractedly as he shucks off his coat and shoes. "I'm back from Cheondam Jjang!"

She steels her resolve, recalls the twin wishes of Fighting! from her friends, and walks down the stairs to meet him. "John. I've been waiting for you," she says in what she hopes is a seductive voice.

He regards her long coat with panic. "Did we have something planned tonight that I forgot about?! How long was I making you wait? Are we late? Give me, like, 5 minutes, and I'll be ready to go!"

Jiwan hurries to bodily get between her frenzied boyfriend and the door. Perhaps 'I've been waiting for you' was not the best opening line, and perhaps her low tone sounded less like seduction and more like a reproach. "Wait! We're not going anywhere; we're not late to anything!"

His relief is quickly replaced by confusion. "Then what's with the coat?" His head tilts as he realises something. "And the music?"

She kind of wants to hide in her room and cry frustrated tears at how inauspicious the start to their evening is, but she is determined. She takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, meeting John's eyes with intention. Instead of a verbal reply, she slowly unbuttons her coat and shrugs it off her shoulders in one fluid motion.

The way his eyes draw immediately and automatically to her chest is a good sign.

She takes advantage of his arrested state to stalk toward him, one high-heeled foot in front of the other. She relishes in the way his eyes clearly don't know which part of her to look at even as he stumbles backwards in an attempt to keep some distance between them.

He eventually collides with the newel of the stairs, and Jiwan firmly presses up against him. "You can do more than look, you know." She reaches for his hands, held up by his head like he was caught red-handed, and guides them down to her sides, high enough above her waist to almost reach her chest.

The thin fabric of the lingerie is no barrier for the heat of his palms. His fingers flex once then hold her; and for a split second, all she can think is yes.

Then he pushes her away. "Jiwan, what's happening right now? Are you pranking me? Which network thought this would be funny? I just want to talk."

The night is quickly spiraling out of control, but she tries a last-ditch effort to save it. "This isn't a prank," she explains firmly as she steps back into his space, twining her arms around his neck. "I am trying to seduce you."

Both of his eyebrows raise. "Like this?"

"Yes, 'like this'!" she finally erupts. She stomps back to the entryway to collect her crumpled coat from the floor, and she hastily buttons it up around her as she brushes past her boyfriend. "When I'm not 'like this', you ignored all my other attempts to have sex with you, so what else was I supposed to do?"

"Jiwan, I wasn't ignoring you. I was trying to take things slow; I was trying to respect you!" he justifies as he chases his irate girlfriend up the stairs. He grabs hold of her arm; and when he cannot encourage her to turn around, he jumps up the steps to face her.

His chivalry is neither appreciated nor warranted. "I'd feel a lot more respected if you listened to me all the times I was trying to tell you I was ready," she retorts with crossed arms and without meeting his gaze. "Middle school was ages ago, and I trust you."

John tentatively reaches out for her; and after a huff, she lets him. He rubs comforting circles across her shoulders and down her arms. "You're right, you're right. I'm sorry. Can you blame me, though? I'm your first boyfriend, and you're the first person I've dated seriously since I became a celebrity. I think I was going slow for me, too."

Her embarrassment and annoyance ebb away with every turn of his palms and every word he says. Forgiveness is easy after that. "Now that we understand each other, can we stop going slow?" she pouts.

He leans down to kiss her forehead in response, but she deserves a little more than that after what he put her through. She tilts her chin up for a proper kiss, and the simple affection deepens into something heady and encompassing without either of them meaning to.

"You look great in this, by the way," John gasps out between kisses. His hands slip through her suddenly open coat and wrap around her waist, fingering the lace patterns against her back. "Like, really great."

"Oh, Joon," she exhales when his lips descend to her neck.

(She says his name three more times that night.)

~~~

4. foot-in-mouth

As the owner-operator of several successful restaurants, John knows how important it is to honour a time commitment. This is why he is currently freaking out.

"Can you stop freaking out? I called ahead of time; they know we're running late."

"Jiwan-ssi," he says with all the patience he bought second-hand at the store once he realised Jiwan deserved better than his hotheadedness and gut reactions. "We aren't running late to just any restaurant reservation. This is the reservation to end all reservations!"

She laughs at him outright. "Why are you acting like we're eating at Paik Jongwon's restaurant? It's just lunch at my mom's pork feet place."

John presses harder on the gas.

Ten minutes into their reservation, they finally arrive at Devil's Jokbal. Instead of a minimum wage teenager at the front counter who politely explains to them that their table has been given up to people who showed up on time, there is a middle-aged couple on the older side who greets them with unrestrained exuberance.

Well, they greet Jiwan. John is just there.

"Omo, omo, omo. Is that my Park Jiwan-ssi finally making time to visit her poor old mother?"

"You're more lovely in person! That damn show. All those cameras, and they couldn't capture any of your beauty? Whatever they paid you, it wasn't enough."

"Mom! Dad!" Jiwan cheers as they wrap each other up in a big hug. The sight is so heartwarming, it makes John want to call his mother and tell her he loves her.

Jiwan breaks away and pulls John closer. "This is John, my boyfriend," she introduces with a wide smile, and it's showtime.

"John Jang is my name." He bows deeply and articulates clearly, pausing between the two names. He learned to do that because people kept thinking John was his family name. He rises and passes along the flowers he brought. "These are for you, eomeonim. It's nice to meet you both."

"Omo, such nice manners. I'm Yom Syejin, but eomeonim is definitely fine with me!" Her mom bows cutely.

"You can call me 'sir'." Her dad reaches out for a handshake, and he doesn't let go after a polite amount of shakes. "'John', huh? That's not Korean, is it?"

"No, sir. My Korean name is Jang Joon." Her dad finally lets go of the handshake, and John steps back and hastily gives a shallow bow just for lack of something better to do.

"Why 'John'?" Syejin asks politely, and John freezes. If he tells them the truth, they'll (correctly) think he's greedy. Worse, they might think he's unpatriotic. He's served his mandatory conscription already; he can prove it!

Jiwan, as always, comes to his rescue. "He's a celebrity, Mom. You know they always need to change their names to get more popular. It's good for brand recognition."

"I'm gonna call you 'Joon'," her father states with a smile that doesn't seem to reach his eyes.

John tries very hard not to think about the fact that the last person who called him 'Joon' was Jiwan, and he tries extra hard not to think about the circumstances in which she was calling him 'Joon'.

"Yes, sir." He doesn't salute, but it's a near thing.

The four of them—polite, appraising, hopeful, and panicked—stare at each other in the waiting area of the restaurant for a few seconds before Jiwan's mother claps her hand with intention. "Why don't I show us to our table?"

As he and Jiwan trail after her parents, he can't help but feel like he's walking to the gallows.

As soon as they sit down at the booth, the minimum wage teenager he expected appears to take their drink orders. A glass of beer would really take the edge off right now, but he doesn't need to look sloppy in front of Jiwan's parents. "Water is fine."

"Not a beer man, huh, Joon?"

He chokes on his own spit.

Jiwan fusses over his face with a napkin and defends, "He's driving us, Dad."

"Oh, he drives! Our Jiwan never learned. She was so busy with her sketchbooks and expensive markers," her mom teases, and Jiwan picks up the banter easily.

John is ready to cut in with praise for how far Jiwan's talents have gotten her, ready to start making a good impression, when her dad speaks up again. "What kinda car you drive, Joon?"

He straightens in his seat proudly. He loves his car. "A Genesis G70, sir. Latest model."

"Hyundai, huh? What's wrong with Kia cars?"

At his side, Jiwan meeps. "Dad works at the Kia factory in Gwangmyeong."

"Kias are great cars!" John interjects hurriedly. "I was looking at the Stinger, actually!"

Her dad hums noncommittally then turns to Jiwan with a friendly smile. "You're so down to earth, Jiwan-ah. Where did you find this flashy pretty boy?"

"Yes!" her mom pipes up, eager to talk about things she cares about again. "Tell us how you started dating! What happened to Kim Joonho-ssi?"

Jiwan's face perfectly shows the displeasure that John feels at the name. "We agreed to give it a try for a month, but it was clear from the beginning that it wasn't going to work out." The harsh tone of her voice softens. "John confessed to me before I could get too lonely, and we've been dating ever since."

John doesn't know what Jiwan's parents' stance is on PDA, so he doesn't do anything more obvious than squeeze her knee under the table. At the sweet smile Jiwan sends him, he's sure she understands what it means.

"You make a habit of going after taken women, Joon?"

Simultaneous shouts of "Dad!" and "Park Youngwon-ssi!" are not enough to drown out the bang of John's knees hitting the underside of the table. He hisses in pain; and after he waves off Jiwan's concerns, she turns on her father. "Dad, that was uncalled for."

"I'm just tryna to get to know the guy!"

"Sure, but you're supposed to ask things like 'What are your hobbies?', not 'Tell me all of your past misdeeds'."

"I've gotten really into golf, lately," John pipes up, desperate to find something they can talk about.

"Celebrities and their golf," her dad mutters.

"Okay, I have two waters, a beer, and a Coca-Cola," the minimum wage teenager recites as they set down each order, effectively cutting through the tension that built up between the four of them. "Are we ready to order?"

John hadn't even had a chance to look at the menu yet. "We'll have pork feet, of course. Family style and diablo level," Youngwon says.

If there's one thing John can appreciate, it's a restaurant's shtick: Devil's Jokbal named their spice levels after international words for 'devil', and diablo is their spiciest level. Separate from his anxieties about today's meeting, he was really excited to try the food.

"You can handle spice, can't you, Joon?"

John puffs out his chest. "Of course. I'm Korean, after all," he adds in, still worried about the patriotism thing.

"Actually, I'd like to ask John something," Syejin speaks up before her husband can corner him into another battle of wits, and for that she has John's eternal thanks. "We watched Kingdom of Love, of course. There probably isn't a single person in Seoul who didn't," she jokes off-handedly, "and I couldn't help but notice that you were very interested in the weatherperson. What's her name again? T-T-Tae…?"

John nods. "Jang Taemi-ssi." While a little bit uncomfortable, this is at least a line of questioning John expected and is confident to answer. "My story is very similar to Jiwan-ssi's. Taemi-ssi and I tried dating for a little while, but it was clear to me from the beginning that she wasn't right for me." He looks over at Jiwan and says earnestly, "If I could live my life a second time but only change one thing, I would have appealed to Jiwan's heart as soon as I met her."

Simultaneous "awww"'s are cut off by Youngwon's gruff interruption. "So you wouldn't have pushed my precious daughter off of another contestant after a harmless game of chicken fight?"

To be completely honest, John kind of forgot he did that. Based on the look on Jiwan's face, she did too. They were strangers to each other back then, barely blips on each other's radars and far more preoccupied with people they thought would be better fits for them.

In the same instant that he feels guilty, he can also feel Jiwan's forgiveness, and that's what matters.

It bolsters him to respond the way he does. "Sir. Eomeonim. I understand that you may have preconceived notions about the person I am based on what you saw of me on the show, and as a result you may not approve of my dating your daughter. I will not lie to you and say I'm different now. I remain a prideful man with singular focus, and it manifests in high standards that burn more bridges than they mend.

"I wholeheartedly apologise for every offense I've caused you or your daughter, but I cannot apologise for who I am, not when it has allowed me to achieve my childhood dreams twice over despite my relative youth. Eomeonim, when you look around this restaurant, don't you feel good? Like all the sacrifices you made were worth it because it led to such a great establishment?"

Tears delicately well up in Syejin's eyes without spilling over, and John smiles. He sees where Jiwan got the habit.

A glance reveals Youngwon's rather impassive face, but John isn't deterred. He isn't done yet. "I am not very different now, but I have changed, and that is all thanks to the amazing woman Park Jiwan-ssi is. She reminds me that it is always worth it to fight for something that matters to you, that true criticism is offered out of kindness, that being yourself is the only way to find the things that are meant to be… She reminds me why I love cooking.

"You don't need me to tell you that you've raised an amazing daughter. All I'm saying is… If I can spend my time with her, watch her laugh, and give her even half the support that she gives me, then I want to do that for as long as she lets me."

No sooner does the sentence end before Jiwan tackles him into a side hug that he gladly returns, onlookers be damned. He is unsurprised to find Syejin's tears freely falling down her face, but the mistiness in his own eyes does take him aback.

With a brief kiss to her forehead, he arranges himself and Jiwan back in the booth they're in and turn to receive Youngwon's appraisal.

They don't have to wait long. "Did you just ask me for my daughter's hand in marriage?"

Spit take. "Dad!" "Park Youngwon!"

"You're tryna tell me you used every damn word in the Korean dictionary to tell us how much you love our daughter and you're not tryna put a ring on her finger?! This is the problem with you Seoulites; you're all talk and no action. The next time I see your sorry face you better be ready to beg for the privilege of marrying Jiwan-ah, alright? And don't you dare for a second even think that she'll be joining your family register just because you have more money. Now sit your butt down; the food is here."

"That wasn't so bad!" Jiwan chirps as they wave goodbye to her parents.

"Jiwan-ssi, that was the longest hour of my entire life."

She frantically checks her phone. "That was only an hour?"

"Exactly," but honestly he would have taken however long he needed in order to win over her parents.

He is just happy that by the end of the lunch, he fully accomplished this goal. Any bruises on his pride and knees are completely worth it for that alone.

Besides, he received helpful, explicit instructions on how to approach the marriage conversation when he's ready, and he doesn't think it'll be long now.

~~~

5. dis/appointment

Opening up a new restaurant was no less work the third time around.

The parts he actually enjoyed—negotiating with ingredient suppliers, planning the menu—were constantly set aside in favour of more pressing concerns like confusing zoning ordinances and remodeling mishaps. He hired a project manager to handle the daily headaches, but decisions still had to be finalised by him. Besides, he couldn't help but want to personally oversee as much of the process as possible. His livelihood (and more importantly, his reputation) was at stake.

A long day poring over contracts and licenses just didn't bring him the same satisfaction as a long day in the kitchen, and he's coming up on two months' worth of long days.

To make matters worse: he couldn't even seek absolution in his girlfriend's reprieving embrace. Production on the drama adaptation of I Loved That Jerk had ramped up not long after he and his business partners decided it was time to open a third location. Jiwan had been spending more and more time at the production studio than in her own home, and their schedules hadn't lined up nearly as often as either of them would have liked. He missed her so much.

Even now that he can see the light at the end of the tunnel, he still does.

This morning, the ink dried on the final papers that mean Seorae Jjang can officially open for business. There is now only a month of last-minute adjustments and double-checking details left between him and peace.

Jiwan even texted him earlier confirming that she would be home today, which means he could tell her this good news in person. It's shaping up to be one of the best days in his entire life.

When he arrives home, he can hear Jiwan puttering around in the kitchen the way she likes to do because "cooking at home compromises your work-life balance, John!" He can't recall the last time she was home before him, and he says as much in lieu of a greeting.

"John!" Jiwan hastily shuts off the gas before launching herself into his arms, and he staggers a little from her momentum. She smells like day-old perfume and his homemade gochujang, and it's his new favourite smell.

She drags him to the kitchen island and bustles about to plate the food. "Come, come! I made us dinner. I want to hear all about your good news. I have something exciting to share as well."

"You go first," he encourages as he takes a seat. He just wants to hear her voice and experience her presence. He's been utterly denied of both for too long.

"Are you sure? Well, okay." She blazes through the dance of polite deference easily and quickly gets to: "We got the premiere date for the I Loved That Jerk drama! It's real; it's actually happening!"

"No way. No way! That's fantastic news, Jiwan-ssi!" He stops whatever she's doing with a firm kiss on her lips then picks up his phone. "When is it? I'm letting my manager know to clear the 24 hours before and afterwards."

"Afterwards?"

He wiggles his eyebrows at her. "Afterwards."

She pushes at his shoulder to distract from her blush, but the pretty hue that blossoms on her cheeks is all he can pay attention to… So much so that he thinks he mishears her.

"Come again?"

"It's next month. On the 30th."

He puts his phone down with a heavy hand. "You're sure it's the 30th? Not the 29th, or the 31st?"

But of course, it's on the 30th. It wasn't enough for their careers to keep them separate during the hard times, but now they can't even share the good parts together either.

"Is something the matter?" she asks with genuine worry.

John would love to tell her everything is fine, except… "The 30th. That's the day Seorae Jjang opens."

She frowns and pulls out her phone to scan through it. "That's inconvenient, but I think we can make it work. The premiere events start in the afternoon but continue well on into the night... Do you think you can step out of the kitchen in time for the—?"

His eyes bulge out of their sockets. "—I can't abandon the restaurant during the grand opening. What if they need me? My team is good, I trust them, but I should still be there."

Jiwan's face is carefully blank. "You don't want to support me?"

"No, that's not it at all!" He gets up to hold her hands tight in his, as if the physical contact will make her believe him more. "Just because I can't go to the premiere doesn't mean I can't support you in other ways! I'll watch it on Naver as soon as I get home," he promises fervently. "I'll make a bunch of burner accounts so that I can rate and vote and comment and whatever else they make fans do to prove they invested in the right IP."

Jiwan keeps her attention fixed on their hands. "But you won't go to the premiere with me."

John sighs. He brings their hands up to his lips to place an apologetic kiss on her knuckles, hoping to catch her gaze as he does so. "I'd love to, Jiwan-ssi, but I can't."

When she does look up to face him, it's with shiny eyes. "If you'd love to, then do it anyway," she says, steadfast despite obvious reluctance for what she is instigating.

"… What?"

"I get that this is your big night, but it's mine too, and... and my night is bigger." He reels from her bold statement, and Jiwan keeps going. "This is my first show, for my debut webcomic. This is easily the biggest thing that's ever happened to me. Can you say the same? Is this your singular greatest professional achievement?"

He isn't speaking with "I have to buy this; there's a bow on it!" Jiwan or "like the game says: sorry~" Jiwan. This is the Jiwan that had to rescue herself from an abusive environment, that had to ignore disparaging remarks about her size and shape everywhere she went, that had to force herself to keep creating even when no one would pick up her webcomic pitches. Maybe he would still love the persistent Jiwan if she weren't being so unfair.

"It could be!" he seethes. "Seorae Jjang is my most specialised and ambitious dining experience yet. No one else in Seoul is offering French-Korean fusion the way I've designed it; it's practically Michelin worthy. I could even overtake Paik Jongwon as the most influential chef in South Korea! My reputation is at stake here."

"And mine isn't?" She crosses her arms with a huff. "You have two successful restaurants already, John; you won't be set back if this one happens to fail. If my show doesn't succeed, I'm not only losing out on potential licensing deals. The success of all my future webcomics will suffer—whether people will read them, whether they're adapted. No, don't look at me like that. I am not exaggerating. It happens all the time."

It bothers him to no end that they are standing here, defending their livelihoods to each other, when they've had this exact same conversation under much happier circumstances before. She knows why Seorae Jjang is a big deal to him; he knows how important this premiere is to her. He is still incredibly happy for her despite the circumstances.

He forces himself to breathe, to de-escalate the tension. Finally, "I would never ask you to choose my important night over yours. It's unfair of you to ask that of me."

She looks him dead in the eyes when she counters, "It's selfish of you to weigh them with equal importance," and it sounds like a funeral toll.

John turns away. He doesn't want to see her like this. He wants to calm down.

After a long moment, he senses her depart from the kitchen, and something about her stride makes him nervous. He listens carefully as she stalks up to their bedroom, and he springs into action once he hears some heavy thuds and the sound of zippers.

"What are you doing?" he calls out as he sprints up the stairs, trying to rationalise that perhaps he is jumping to unwarranted conclusions. Unfortunately, he reaches the bedroom door to find his conclusions very much warranted.

She doesn't stop packing. "I'm going to Hyejin's. I don't want to sleep next to you tonight."

She's leaving?! "Jiwan-ssi. Jiwan, please. That's no reason to leave your own house. I'll take the couch if it bothers you that much." He tries to stop her moving hands, but she jerks free of his touches. "Jiwan, please."

"It's still too close," she maintains as she heads for the bathroom to retrieve her toiletries.

How far away from him does she want to be? "I-I'll leave then," he shakily offers. He's already trying to remember where his own suitcases are. "Come on. If you don't want to be in the same house with me, I'll leave then."

"John."

He turns to face her again with confused, blurry eyes, and she at last has stopped moving. "You gave up your condo to move in with me, remember? You don't have another place to go."

She's right, of course. In practically no time at all, he had centered his entire way of life around her, and this entire house is filled with proof of that.

When he focuses on the present again, she is zipping closed her suitcase. "I just need some time, John."

He wants to ask so many questions—How much time? Why is she doing this to them? What happens now?—but before he can settle on any one, she takes tentative, measured steps towards him. She's bridging the distance, but it brings him none of the comfort that he seeks.

She takes one of his hands in hers and rests her other on his cheek. The only thing he wants most in the whole wide world at this very moment is to reach for her, but he can do nothing but watch.

Her face is set in determination reminiscent of the night they had their first time, and the emotional distance between that memory and the present makes his heart ache.

"I'm angry. I'm so angry at you, John Jang, but it's because I love you just as much."

She places a kiss in the scant millimeters between her thumb and the corner of his mouth and steps back.

On unsteady feet, he follows down the stairs, and he makes no move to stop her when she closes the door on his face. In the resulting silence of the house, the click of the lock echoes.

He collapses onto his knees and drops his head into his hands. He needs a drink, he needs a shower, he needs a bed. He raises his head as he decides which to do first, and his eyes happen to catch sight of the clock in the entryway.

An hour.

It only took one hour to define the worst day of his entire life.

~~~

6. countdown

10:45pm

Despite the late hour, she still finds herself answering the same questions. "Yes, I'm the Park Jiwan in Kingdom of Love 2." "No, the show turned out even better than what I imagined." "Yes, let's take a selfie!"

"No, John couldn't make it tonight."

If it was tiresome four hours ago, it's downright irritating now. Thank goodness there are only fifteen minutes left before it's socially acceptable for her to leave.

The night wasn't all bad, though. Far from it. She was glad to hear for herself the joy and laughs as people watched the first episode. She appreciated all the fans who came up to tell her their journeys of discovering her work. She even made some new industry friends tonight that she can't wait to get to know better, professionally and personally.

Regardless of her gratitude and the success of the evening, she's ready for it to end. All things—good, bad, and beyond the spectrum of moral judgment—must come to an end.

10:51pm

With less than ten minutes to go before closing time, he explains to his business partner in no uncertain terms that he will be leaving as soon as the clock strikes 11.

"But it's Seorae Jjang's grand opening! Stick around a bit. Have a celebratory glass with the staff for a fantastic first night." And it was fantastic, more than they expected it would be and even still further than he had hoped.

It's just that he's still wondering if it was worth it. "I'm sure they value their time as well. I'll give them a bonus or something. We got plenty of investors tonight, that shouldn't be a problem."

"You haven't cared about punctuality before," his partner comments with suspicion. "Are a few more minutes really going to make that much of a difference?"

"Yes," he says quickly, but he actually doesn't know for sure.

Jiwan did come back home after a few days, not that a casual observer would be able to tell. If he wasn't seeing her before, he saw even less of her in this past month. The handful of times he managed to catch her, she didn't stay, and he didn't ask her to. He didn't want to rehash the same argument, and he was afraid she'd refuse besides. The memory of her closing the door on him still replays in his unguarded moments.

Now the baneful day has come and gone, he doesn't know whether the tension between them will still be there when he gets home. He doesn't even know whether she will be getting home.

But if she does, he would rather find out earlier that he was too early than find out later that he was too late.

11:06pm

The taxi she called doesn't come a moment too soon. She recites the address as soon as she opens the car door and settles into the seat with a sigh.

The breath carries with it all of the adrenaline and tension and unadulterated emotion of the day, annoyances and regrets included. The farther away she gets from the private club where the afterparty was hosted, the less everything matters to her except the deep, immovable satisfaction of a job well done.

It isn't forgiveness, necessarily. More like acceptance. The decisions were made, the night is over, and she is simply tired. In her unguarded moments, she didn't give much thought to what happens afterwards except for a fluffy blanket and catching up on a month's worth of lost sleep.

She knows a conversation is impending, but she refuses to be responsible for the timing. Maybe it's cowardly, maybe it's selfish.

She's made a habit of those attitudes, lately.

11:22pm

The cars had been bumper-to-bumper as soon as he hit the on-ramp, and he slams his hand on the steering wheel one more time in frustration. Twenty minutes into his commute home should have already brought him into her neighbourhood, but he was still on the highway. It was a gamble to take the Gyeongbu Expressway, and he knew it, but he had hoped.

He anxiously checks the clock again, and it seems like time is speeding up just to mock him.

This whole time, he's been operating under the presumption that she will come home tonight (he can't bear to think of what it would mean if she doesn't), and he has never enjoyed making her wait. They've both spent too much time waiting—waiting for a sign that she might be interested in him the way he was getting interested in her, waiting for an apology he didn't know how to give, waiting for her sham of a relationship trial to end, waiting for this day to finally arrive.

He's so tired of waiting.

11:45pm

She scrambles out of the taxi cab tiredly and inelegantly, a far cry from her glamorous and refined entrance onto the red carpet five hours ago. At this point, the concrete path from the sidewalk to the front door is looking better than any red carpet.

She is home.

From the road, however, she could tell the house remains dark inside. Her heart sinks, but she resolves herself. Maybe he hasn't come back yet. She figured he'd make it back before her since Seorae Village is at least on the same side of the river, but traffic can be a real pain, especially if he chose the wrong expressway home.

She refuses to consider that he had no intention of returning tonight at all, but then she does, and she collapses onto her small lawn as a cold emptiness sprawls through her chest. It's not like she gave him a reason to come back; she herself didn't know she was ready to come home until the taxi pulled up in front of her.

She was barely home this past week, caught as she was between the demands of the show and her own avoidance of him. What if he packed a bag and moved out too? Oh god, what if it's permanent? They weren't supposed to break up over this; she just needed space—!

The sound of rubber squealing on asphalt aggressively jolts her out of her spiraling.

11:46pm

He had already been speeding, but when he turns the corner onto her street and sees her there just sitting on her lawn and looking at nothing, he gives up on all pretence of being a law-abiding citizen. His relief to see her home is completely overshadowed by his dread that something was terribly wrong.

He zoomed right up to her house and put the car in park, nevermind the fact that he is decidedly not parked. "Jiwan!" he calls out before he's fully exited from the car. "Are you alright?!"

There is no mistaking the tears in her eyes when she fully turns to face him, so he doesn't even bother shutting the car door in his haste to get to her. "Jiwan, what's the matter? Did something happen at the premiere? Did they not like it? Don't listen to them, they wouldn't know entertainment if it hit them in the face. I bet it's great. It should be online now, right? I'll go watch it right now, I promised you I would. I'll set it up on the tv and my phone and my laptop and my tablet—"

Her hug shuts him up. "John," she sniffles. "You're late."

His arms wrap around her in reflex. "I'm late?"

Between her already weak voice and the muffling from his chest, he has to strain to hear her. "You were supposed to be home by now."

God, he shouldn't have taken the Gyeongbu. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm here now," he soothes with gentle tones and backrubs.

"I thought you were breaking up with me!" and then she's sobbing, heavily and loudly, into his chest.

John could honestly care less about anyone potentially finding them like this on an empty residential street at midnight, but he knows Jiwan will be embarrassed about it later, so he regretfully forces her away from him. "Come on, let's get in the car."

While she cries into her hands, he opens the door for her and buckles her in. He grabs a packet of tissues from the glove box and leaves it on the dashboard for her to use when she's ready. He gets into the car himself and has a split second panic as he tries to recall where he put the keys, but they're just waiting for him in the ignition. From there, it's an easy thing to start the car and park it properly.

The minutes it took to do that give Jiwan enough time for her wails to subside into sniffles, but he's still afraid she might not be able to hear him. "I have no intention of breaking up with you," he declares with a strong voice. "What made you think that?"

She takes a moment to blow her nose then confesses, "You weren't there when I got home, and I… I couldn't help but presume the worst."

God, he shouldn't have taken the Gyeongbu! "Jiwan-ssi. I had every intention to make it home on time, I swear it. I wanted to be here already for… well, for if you came back."

Her face crumbles like a paper with discarded ideas. "I'm sorry I made you think I wouldn't come back," she sobs into her hands.

Getting into the car was a mistake. John can't hug her properly like this. "No! No, I could have asked. I should have asked. I was afraid to, though. Not asking was easier than dealing with your reply. Please don't blame yourself, Jiwan-ssi."

"But this is all my fault! You knew from the beginning that we were just going to have to go to our own events separately, but I was being unfair. I called you selfish when I was the selfish one. I wanted more from you. I made you choose between me and your restaurant, and I got mad when you didn't choose me. What kind of girlfriend does that?"

So they're talking about this tonight. "I'm not gonna pretend that you didn't say things that hurt me. It was one of the worst things anyone has ever said to me, and I wondered a lot afterwards if anything I did was worth doing when it was just gonna hurt people I love and make them hurt me… but I got angry at you, too. I answered your challenge instead of trying to calm us down. If I could have just kept my frustration in check, maybe if I presented the option differently, I could have spared us from all this."

Jiwan resolutely shakes her head. "No, I know myself. I wouldn't have accepted it until today—tonight, rather. Not until it was all over. I couldn't feel relaxed until the taxi ride home," she confesses.

He watches her closely, splotchy face dappled by the light from a distant streetlamp. "And how do you feel now?"

"So very sorry," she answers immediately. "Also… relieved? You're not leaving me, my show is on the air and will be for the next two months, and my time on set will be measurable in hours and not days. I feel like everything is good again for the first time in a while."

Despite the solemnity of the conversation, John has to laugh. "I feel you. If I never have to look at the Ministry of Economy and Finance seal again, it would be too soon. All I want to do is cook good food and usurp Paik Jongwon, but I can't help but be involved at every stage. I do it to myself, really."

She grabs his hand, earnest as she always is. "Your reputation matters too, John, just as much as mine. I'm sorry that I implied otherwise."

He shifts their hands so he holds onto hers too. "I'm sorry, too. I could have stopped this cold war ages ago but I didn't. I told myself it was because I was giving you space, but really I think I just rely on you too much to make the first move." Saying it out loud makes him review all of their interactions since they first met on Kingdom, and he sees just how true that statement is. "I can be better."

Something about the way she smiles at him makes him think she doesn't believe him, and she laughs outright when he pouts. "Can we go inside? I ran out of tissues."

With a roll of his eyes, he lets it go. "You can take a shower first, if you want," he comments as he gets out of the car. "I have something to take care of."

Jiwan checks her phone as she follows him into the house. "It's half past midnight. What could you possibly need to do?"

"I wasn't kidding about watching I Loved That Jerk tonight." He beelines for the living room, knowing all his devices are there. "I want it trending on Naver by morning even if it kills me."

"That's big talk coming from someone who wouldn't even read it until this week," she teases.

"I wanted it to be fresh in my mind for when I watched!" John defends rotely. They've gone over this already.

To his surprise, she sits right next to him while he gets everything set up. "I'm watching it with you, obviously," she answers his unanswered question, and he just has to hug her. They both relish in the contact with no console nor conflict to separate them, and Jiwan pulls away first. "Hurry up! The episode is already an hour long, but with my commentary it'll end up being more like two hours," she warns in jest. "Every minute counts, you know!"

He's struck by the distinct memory of when she was too considerate, yet so brave, to ask him for even thirty minutes of his time. It would be false to say the woman she is now is a far cry from the woman she was then: she is still polite, she is still gutsy. It's just that now, she is all his, too.

"I know."

~~~

+1. distinction

Waiting in her bridal suite for the ceremony to start is a lot more difficult than Jiwan thought it would be. Her friends, punctual people that they are, have already bade her well-wishes and taken selfies; and no one else has come since.

Somewhere past the doors is her husband-to-be, entertaining guests as they arrive and helping them find their seats. She'd rather be out there where it's busy and exciting instead of in her quiet, posh, sequestered cage. Her family may be bigger, but his circle of friends is wider than hers. (Much of her family isn't invited anyway, for obvious reasons.)

Suffice it to say, she is kind of lonely and a lot of bored. Jiwan lets out a heavy breath.

"Is something the matter, ah-ee?"

She didn't have to, but Jiwan deeply appreciates that her mom is waiting with her. "I'm just ready to get to the good part, I guess."

Unfortunately, her mother misunderstands. "It's not all good, you know. I'm not even talking about the big arguments. Kids, religion, finances—those are easy. The worst are the small things: running late to date night, doing the laundry improperly. They don't bother you at first, but then they kind of do, and then they build up, and then one last small thing is what causes you to flip. It always looks like an overreaction to the most recent thing when it hardly ever is. Those arguments are almost impossible to handle rationally."

Jiwan is scandalised. Her parents seem so happy! "Where is all this coming from? Are you and Dad getting a divorce?"

"Omo, omo, omo. I was just warning you that these things happen!"

"Are you also going to warn me against getting married? It's a little too late for that."

Her mother narrows her eyes the way other people would roll them. "I'm warning you about the inevitability of polite miscommunication. It's only natural that you don't tell your partner every little thing they do that bothers you; your nerves would fray very quickly, I'm sure!"

"So what do you do?"

She hums. "You choose to understand each other, no matter what," her mother says at last. "You each express yourselves the best you can, and it's up to the other to pick it up from there. Minimising the space between what you say and what they hear is how a relationship gets stronger; and that holds true for friendships, too."

That's a good line. She's going to steal it. "Is that what you and Dad did?"

Sparing a glance to the bored photographer in the corner, her mother leans over conspiratorially. "Your father thinks worse than he listens; but after thirty years of marriage, I've learned to work around him as well as he's learned to work around me." She straightens, then looks Jiwan in the eyes. "I get the sense that you and John will be different, though. I hope you two can do something with the lessons I've learned."

Jiwan nods. She does think she and John are different. "Thank you, Mom."

Her mother smiles warmly at her, holding Jiwan's hands between her liver-spotted ones. "Our darling ah-ee. You don't have to thank me for being your mother."

The moment is broken by a frazzled John Jang. "There you two are! It's time!"

The photographer springs into alertness as he follows after the three hurrying guests of honour, switching to filming just in time to capture the conversation which will later get a hearty chuckle during the wedding highlights video.

("What do you mean 'there you two are'? We were in my bridal suite the whole time."

"Yes, I know, but I couldn't remember where. There are so many in that hallway; I surprised three other brides before I found you. And they put you in the farthest one!")

Her mom hands her off to her dad and joins John's mom in front of the closed doors to the wedding hall, as is customary. The event staff grandly open the door for their entrance as the emcee (Goo Yeoreum was happy to do it) introduces them.

John sends her a quick wink once it's his turn to enter, and he strides through the doors like the model he might have been if only food hadn't called to him first.

The doors close. She and her dad step forward, her dad squeezing her arm so hard it's like he's the one about to get married. Jiwan's dolor evanesces, and excitement lights her nerves on fire. She faintly hears Yeoreum introduce them, then the doors open before her.

The hall looks the same as when she saw it earlier this morning, but as she steps onto the stage and walks down the runway, it feels different. Magical. It's not just the filled-in seats and wearing the dress, but her whole outlook on the event is different. It feels like she has a plot bunny she just needs to write down before she forgets it.

This is real. She's getting married.

Right before her dad passes her off to him, Jiwan sends John a wide smile with all the happiness she has, and his face goes slack with helplessness. Her blood feels like champagne; she's so giddy. This man—who is helplessly in love with her, whose vanity is more than mirrors and compartments, who is so much like her darling protagonist that she initially worried she was projecting onto him, who would crumble if she ever told him that she found his one-sided rivalry with Paik Jongwon adorable, whom she loves just as recklessly—wants to marry her.

Yeoreum invites the guest singers to the stage, and Jiwan squeezes John's hand before turning her attention to the two men. As his wedding gift, Jaehoon got his friends who happen to be idols to perform at their wedding. She only met them once before, and they seemed rather kind, so she is looking forward to their performance…

… Which ends up being a questionable uptempo remix of the I Loved That Jerk OST.

She glances over at Yeoreum, who fortunately looks as perplexed as she feels. When Yeoreum notices her attention, she schools her face into something more professional and makes a complicated hand gesture that Jiwan chooses to interpret as 'Don't worry, I'll make sure Jaehoon gives you a real gift'. John, for his part, is less than impressed.

"Thank you so much for that unique performance," Yeoreum speaks into the microphone as soon as the music cuts out. "At this time, I'd like to invite the honoured couple to recite their vows."

An event staff hands John a microphone from off stage, and he takes it in one hand as the other reaches into his suit jacket to pull out his written vows. He spares the rest of the room a glance before turning his attention to Jiwan.

His eyes remind her of the night he confessed to her, intense and singularly focused on her.

"Jiwan-ah." He licks his lips, fiddles with the paper nervously. "I wanted my vows to be… better, but I don't have pretty words like you do. I even wrote them in a bulleted list, so I don't get aesthetic points either." He shows off the page as proof, earning distant chuckles for the action. "I'm sorry."

As if he had anything to apologise for. She shakes her head resolutely, pleading with her eyes for him to continue.

He nods, takes a deep breath, and begins. "To Park Jiwan: If you only have one fan left in the entire world, I promise that fan is me. If your pencil dulls, I promise to be your sharpener. If your dinner tastes bad, it means I didn't make it, so I promise to make you a new one."

"I promise to earn your trust. I promise to be brave enough to start hard conversations and patient enough to end them properly. I promise to support you, and I promise to compromise on what support looks like. I promise to love you in all the ways that make you feel loved and create new ways, too.

"And lastly, I promise that these are not just promises. They are privileges you are granting me by letting me be your husband, and I promise I will never forget that."

She has no clue how she's supposed to recite her own vows with sobs clogging her throat, but it's her turn.

The applause dies down, the event staff brings her the microphone along with the basket she prepared ahead of time, and John raises an interested eyebrow. "There's a legend that says if you fold a thousand paper cranes while having one wish in mind, the wish will come true," she explains. "I only have twenty here, but each crane has a vow written in it."

She gently unfolds one and encourages John to read it out loud. "I promise not to use my webcomic characters to vent my frustrations about you," he reads, the end of the sentence broken off by his own laughter and that of the audience. She can only nod. There are many like that, genuine promises over benign hazards of being bound to her for life.

"I could pull them out and read them all, but instead I'll simply say this: I am going to complete this project. I will think of 980 more vows I want to make to you; and with every fold and crease, I will think about the single wish I want for us, which is…"

Originally she was going to say "which is that we will always love each other," but she looks out to her side of the runway and meets the teary eyes of her mother. Neither of them thought she'd get to this stage.

She faces John again. "Which is that we will always choose together. No matter what happens to or around us, as long as we keep choosing each other, I know we'll be okay."

As soon as the event staff free her hands, John pulls her into a hug that she returns with all her might.

"Can I kiss her yet?" he demands.

From there, the exchange of rings and the officiant's pronouncement of marriage occur in short order. Korean weddings are notoriously quick affairs to begin with, but Jiwan is still shocked at how soon everyone sits to eat the celebratory meal John himself designed—complete with a side of potatoes au gratin, of course. The first guest bids them goodbye before the top of the next hour.

("The wedding industry is very efficient, isn't it?" John's mother, Sunok, says during her talking head interview for the wedding highlights video.

"We were getting ready for longer than the ceremony actually lasted," Syejin comments wryly during her own interview.)

Their pyebaek is scheduled for tomorrow, so the new family of five head their separate ways: Syejin and Youngwon to the restaurant, Sunok to her hotel, and Jiwan and John back home.

Is that it? Can such a life-defining occasion pass so quickly? Surely there must be more, something that will make her feel different, something like when she stepped through the open doors and the ceremony commenced.

"I know we were planning to go straight home," John broaches once his new car (a Kia sports sedan which he uses whenever he knows they would be meeting her dad "just in case he changes his mind about me") is on the road, "but would you mind if we drove around a little bit? I'm not ready for the day to be over, to be honest."

Jiwan looks over at John in open wonder. That's it.

She doesn't feel different because nothing changed. John is still the person that knows her best, and she is still the woman that loves him for that. The wedding passed so quickly because it was never meant to last. It was a formality, really for everyone else's benefit. She and John were already bonded in all the ways that mattered before today, made even more evident by how his one question was able to completely undo her slow spiral into dejection.

By the same token, marriage isn't an event. It's effort, it's trial and error, it's choices. It lasts as long as they want.

They were wedded this morning, and they are married now. If there were at all a difference to find, it is that.

"I don't mind," she says at last. John sends her a grateful grin and directs them towards the highway. "The place I wanna go to… It'll take us an hour to get there," he hedges.

It's just an hour.

"Can't wait."

That's nothing compared to a lifetime.

~~~

A/N (2.23.2023): Let’s play a game called ‘how many times did I write the word hour in this entire project’.

John’s restaurant names have no canon. I’m calling them “[location] Jjang” b.c jjan is the Korean onomatopoeia for ta-da, his family name is Jang, and I bet he felt very clever when he came up with this pun because I felt very detestable for having done so on his behalf. The two canon locations are Cheongdam and Hannam > these are wealthy neighbourhoods along the Han > I picked the third location to be Seorae Village, another wealthy neighbourhood along the Han > Seorae Village houses almost all of South Korea’s French expat population > French-Korean fusion.

I have actively refrained from wedding ceremonies in my years as both a fanfic consumer and creator and would have happily continued if not for the fact that Johnwan’s story did not feel complete without one. It was a good challenge for myself, but wow never again lol. (Interested in learning more about the modern Korean wedding? Check out this Soompi article… It’s a sad day when the most comprehensive resource I could find on a topic of Korean culture is Soompi, haha.)

#love is for suckers #love that will freeze to death #kdramas #kdrama fanfiction #park jiwan #john jang #jang joon #johnwan #jaso*

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