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sungbeam · 1 year ago

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𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

nonidol!lee hyunjae x f!reader

6.7k words (my hand slipped, sorry), fluff, angst, low-key e2l, ex friends 2 implied lovers?, low-key rich kid au, swearing, drinking and drunk talks/crying, a shitty situation, a bitchy ex gf, uhh very low-key hurt/comfort?, lots of mentions of pizza and soft drinks, THE PLOT IS SO RUSHED IM SORRY I CRAMMED.

a/n: requests now closed! whew,,, what a doozy 😭 im sorry if it feels rushed bc it low-key really was such a rushed and ambitious plot on my part. to the anon who requested it, ik it's not exactly what u asked for and im sorry ><

The pizzeria was like your second home. Maybe it was your home, but you weren't sure if calling a pizza place your home was the best word. It acted as your bubble away from academic responsibilities, family obligations, and anything else you wanted to forget. For the past three years of your college career, you made this place your comfort spot, while also picking up some spare change.

Your friend and co-worker Dae bumped her hip with yours as she passed by you with her hands full of empty plastic cups to refill. "Your group of banshees just walked in," she mused, slipping past you to the fountain drink machine on the bar counter.

Your head perked up and watched the front door on the other side of the room open to let a wave of your friends in. Dae liked to joke that your friend group consisted of a bunch of "banshees" from how loud they could be. You couldn't blame her at all; it was hilariously accurate. On a bad night, the group's volume could reach levels of a nightmare baby being birthed from the Devil's anus.

"Yn-ie!" Chanhee and Jacob waved to you as the group of five made their way through the tight spaces between tables.

"Hey, guys," you greeted them. "You're so lucky a group just left." You nodded toward the circular table in the back corner where your friends often made their home. It was big enough to seat seven—ten, if you squished—but it was almost always for you and your friends.

The pizzeria's owner and your boss, Mr. Moretti, usually didn't mind your friends occupying the space. You were pretty sure he was glad your friends were hiding themselves away in the back. (Not because of the merriment, just because of the noise. Some customers just wanted pizza and a quiet night, and you could respect that.)

"Waitress! Waitress!" Changmin screeched, waving one of his hands around like a lunatic.

You came up to the table with an unimpressed look on your face, and Kevin wrestled his neighbor back into this seat. "Okay, so Changmin doesn't get to eat tonight," you drawled and braced your hands on the backs of Sunwoo and Chanhee's chairs.

"I was just wondering how long it takes for someone to get service around here," Changmin jested. He feigned one of those pompous brushes of his hair, mocking one of the rich pricks who had come in here last month thinking that the RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE sign didn't apply to him. Changmin broke into a lopsided grin at your arched brows. "What? I think I'm funny."

Your eyes widened in a silent 'Can you believe this guy?'

"He's sugar high because someone let him get to the cupcakes," Kevin directed his flat gaze to his counterpart, Jacob.

Jacob's hands lifted in innocence. "What? No one was eating them, and he said he was hungry."

"Okay, drinks, folks!" You clapped to regain their attention. You did, after all, have other customers. "What're we feeling tonight?"

A chorus of drink orders flew up into the air—coke, iced water, Sprite, lemonade—and you nodded, stepping away to grab them those very beverages. Your friends had all been here enough times to know exactly what was on the menu, so while you stepped away briefly for their drinks, they could deliberate and get back to you as soon as you returned.

Like a well oiled machine, you delivered them their drinks, and Kevin doled out the lineup for tonight.

"You know, I was thinking of painting my nails black," Kevin said as he finished off the order. He held his hand out in front of him, inspecting the state of his bare nails.

Sunwoo straightened in his seat. "We should do it together, hyung!—I mean… you could probably paint my nails. I dunno if you should trust me with one of those thin ass brushes."

"You're right," Chanhee chimed in, "we shouldn't."

You snickered to yourself as you left your friends to their own devices and pinned their order sheet to one of the clips hanging in the kitchen window. There was a set of plates set out on the window sill, the bill reading for table three, and you picked it up to take over to them. Dae appeared next to you, tightening her ponytail, and grabbed the dishes for table four right beside it.

With both your hands full, you departed to deliver your respective orders.

As you set the dishes off food down onto table three, you heard the telltale swish of the door opening, and night air flooded into the room. On instinct, you straightened with a smile to greet them. "Hi! Welcome—" your voice died on your throat, and when his eyes locked with yours, you stuttered, "—in. For how many?"

Lee Hyunjae brushed a hand through his blond hair, his other arm wrapped around the shoulders of a girl who was unfortunately familiar to you. A couple of the guys with him, you recognized, too, but he was the one who had made you trip over your words.

One of them with jet black hair and kind, feline-like eyes, lifted four of his fingers in a wordless signal.

You nodded, lips set in a firm line, and gestured to the open four-seater at table eight.

You tucked your empty tray beneath your arm, mentally thanking anyone who was listening that his party was seated in Dae's section and not yours. Thank god for odd numbers.

Dae was swift to chirp out her usual cheeriness to the newcomers, and you scurried back over to the register to cash a table's check. As you did so, your eyes flitted up toward Hyunjae's table. He glanced over at you periodically, looking away whenever you were already looking at him.

What the hell was he doing here? You wanted to yell, scream. Out of all the places, out of all the nights, out of all the times… how long had it been since you last saw him, you wondered to yourself as you let the bitterness seep into your bones and meld with the marrow. It was a feeling you knew all too well.

You strode over to table seven to set their check down on the edge of the table. Everything in the pizzeria was so close together; it was near impossible not to catch the words being exchanged at table eight.

"—don't understand why you chose this dump, Hyunjae." That was the girl, the one who's face made you want to throw something at it. Her name was Kyla, and the last time you saw her in person, she had just become Hyunjae's girlfriend.

Sometimes you questioned how they even managed to stay together so long, but then again, people like them deserved each other.

"Eric just wanted pizza, babe," drawled the blond, his arm casually draped over the back of her chair.

The two others seated at the table consisted of the man with jet black hair, and another with a medium-toned brown hair peeking out of a gray hoodie. The latter said, "You guys'll love this place! Their breadsticks are literally the fluffiest things in the world."

A smile curled onto your face at that comment. Now that you thought about it, you'd seen him around before.

You slid over to table one and began stacking the dirty dishes left behind by customers who had gone. Table eight's conversation continued.

"Is it normal to be able to see grease in the air?" Kyla gagged, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She soaked in the close quarters of the restaurant with little appreciation.

The other third wheel at table eight, the one with black hair, lifted his eyebrows. "It's cozy in here, Kyla."

"Yeah, just give it a chance," Hyunjae chimed in.

You brushed past their table to grab table seven's check and hustle it back over to the register. You met Dae at the counter, her hands once again full with cups that needed filling.

A grunt left her lips. "Table eight," she began.

"Yeah," you agreed. "Sheesh."

Her head turned to you over her shoulder. "You know 'em?"

"Unfortunately." You pursed your lips. "It's been awhile," you amended. "I only know the couple at the table—enough to say, good luck, girl."

Dae made a face, but she pulled her shoulders back to solidify her posture. You always admired her work ethic and her customer service skills. As fellow waitresses during many a dinner rush hour, you both had to deal with your own handfuls of difficult people. At this point, it wasn't difficult to sniff them out from a mile away. There were some days you just wanted them to yell at you and get it over with.

Just as Dae left to go drop off drinks, your friends' order hit the window sill. You tucked the finished bill for table seven into your apron pocket and grabbed the trays to set on the table for your friends.

"You look like you're about to gnaw my fingers off, Jacob," you teased with a twinge of nervousness.

The man grinned at you, with teeth. "I'm hungry."

"Valid." You backed away from the table, and the carnage began.

You laughed, ducking your head, as you left your friends to their feast. You arrived at table seven and wished them a good night—

"Do you not have cherry coke? Isn't that, like, a universal fountain drink?"

You glanced over to see Dae's mouth twitch just slightly, but gave nothing else away. "No, we only have regular Coke and Diet Coke; I said that earlier, miss."

Kyla stared at her as if she'd just gotten her puppy revoked. "But they both taste like ass."

"You can have a fruit punch instead," Dae offered.

"But I don't want fruit punch."

You saw that the other two boys at the table fidgeted nervously. They were making eyes at Hyunjae, urging him to do something.

He seemed to lift his gaze to yours at that exact moment and you wondered what he saw in them. Something shifted in him, a silent acceptance of surrender.

The next thing you knew, he was leaning into the conversation. "Ky, you can just get a water or something and then we'll go get a drink after this. How does that sound?"

She threw a look over at him. "I really just want a cherry coke, Hyunjae. If I have to be forced to eat at this place, then the least you could do is get me a cherry coke."

Okay, that was enough.

"Is there a problem here?" You asked, sidling up beside Dae. You saw her loosen up out of the corner of your eye.

Kyla opened her mouth to retort something, but she halted abruptly. Her head cocked to the side, eyes narrowing, like she was trying to figure something out. You knew the moment she recognized you. A slow smile curled onto her mouth. "Oh my god… Yn Ln. Mommy and daddy kick you out or something? Why are you working at this dump?"

You were certain your eye started twitching.

Hyunjae grappled her shoulder. "Kyla."

"This is gold," she chirped. "Wow, I didn't think anything good could come of this dinner, but—" she sneered, "wow. You look awful."

"Takes one to know one," you said with venom dripping from your words. "We have a right to refuse service, ma'am, so if you don't quit badgering my friend and me, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She didn't seem to catch your drift. "No. Get me. A cherry coke."

You suppressed every urge to fuck this girl up. To Dae, you murmured, "Can you cover my tables?"

"For sure, girl," she said, giving you a reassuring clasp on the shoulder. "Should I call Moretti?"

"No, I think we should be fine—"

"Wait until I tell everyone I know about how absolute ass this place is," Kyla ripped you back out into reality. She had her phone out now, and Eric, the guy in the hoodie, was reaching across the table to stop her.

You weren't allowed to touch her, you reminded yourself. You could do this with just words. No matter how much it killed you to not sucker punch her stupid, pearly whites in. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave," you told her through gritted teeth. "Either you buckle down with your regular Coca-Cola, or you get out."

"How about—no."

All breath dissipated from your lungs when you felt the carbonated liquid dumped in your face, the blocks of ice just missing your eyes. The entire establishment seemed to freeze with you.

You scoffed, slowly wiping the soda from your eyes and shaking out your arms. You couldn't seem to form coherent speech.

"What the fuck is going on here?" You recognized Kevin's hardened voice behind you, his hand squeezing your shoulder to tell you he was here.

As Kyla and Kevin dueled it out, you found Hyunjae's eyes again. To his credit, he seemed horrified and apologetic, his mouth parted in shock. But then again, he didn't have much credit anymore in your book.

Your hands fisted. You wanted to yell at him to get out. It had been a decent evening, a good evening, before he and his like came in and threw a drink in your face.

You didn't want to address the burning bitterness that coursed beneath all the annoyance and anger—out of everything, why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he try harder to help you? Why was he with her when he could be with y—nevermind. That didn't matter.

Even now, your back still ached from when he'd last left it stabbed.

"Are you okay, Yn-ie?"

You realized that Hyunjae and his party had gone now, and the shop patrons were slowly going back to whatever they had been doing before. Chanhee appeared before you with a couple napkins from the dispenser on the table, and Dae rushed over with a massive roll of paper towels. Your other friends had flocked over, too, to help clean up and also attend to customers while you pulled your shit together.

You gave a nod, finding your voice to tell them so. Your gaze casted briefly toward the front door where you knew he wouldn't ever be stepping back into.

You told yourself that was a good thing.

It was late when you finally pushed out of the back doors of the pizzeria building. Your car was parked out back with many of the other employee cars; it was just a lot more convenient and a lot less traffic. It had been a couple days since the fiasco with Kyla and Hyunjae, and you hadn't heard or seen him once since then.

That was a good thing. It was supposed to be a good thing. After all, why would he suddenly reappear in your life now? What purpose or what significance did that have?

You were going to try and forget about him again. Your life was plenty good without him, and yet…

"Yn."

Speak of the Devil. You swore under your breath as you nearly tripped over the curb. His voice was haunting, as was his presence, his whole silhouette. You'd once found a home with all those things—with him.

You and he stopped beside your car. "What are you doing here?" You asked him.

Hyunjae had his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. "I, uhm," he began, "I wanted to say sorry."

"Sorry?" You parroted. The word was sticky in your mouth and it clung to all the wrong crevices.

"Yeah, for the other night." He clasped the back of his neck. "I… I broke up with her, by the way."

Your eyes widened at his words. He broke up with Kyla? A part of you wanted to pump the sky and jump up and down—finally. Fucking finally! But there was another part of you, the rational one, who yanked you back to Earth and smacked you in the head to think about it. Three years of dating that girl, and just now he decided to break up with her? What was the tipping point? There was no way he didn't know she acted like a spoiled brat all the time.

What was so good about her anyway? You thought you had understood at the time—she had more money, more connections. Her parents were old money rich, not entrepreneurs like yours. It was stupid to think that was the reason, and you couldn't afford to go down that rabbit hole of methodology again.

"So?"

Your singular word seemed to slap him in the face. "So? I—" Frustration flickered across his face for a split second. Now he knew how you felt.

You couldn't wait for him to say anything; you had so much to say to him. "Listen Jaehyun," you said plainly. "I don't know what you want from me. You broke up with your girlfriend? Good for you. You're sorry for the other night? Okay. I don't know if you expect me to grovel and praise you for owning up for once—"

"Okay, what?" He cut in. "First of all, I don't expect you to grovel or praise me or whatever. Second, what do you mean 'owning up for once?'"

"I mean it exactly like I said it." You clenched the strap of your bag in your hand. Crazy how your car was literally right next to you, but you couldn't get into it. Your feet were glued to the street, and a part of you wanted to know how this ended. "The last time I saw you, Kyla laughed in my face, and you encouraged her. You dropped me like our years of friendship meant jack shit to you. I don't know what you're trying to pull, Jaehyun, and I don't wanna know."

Hyunjae leaned his head back, eyes closed for a second. "Yn, it's so much more complicated than that."

You stuck your tongue in your cheek. "That's such bullshit, and you know it. You don't get to come back and tell me this." There was a shakiness in your voice now, and you knew you had to get going or risk yelling. "That's just not fair."

"I know it's not fair."

"Good."

"Fine," he bit out. "I don't even know why I'm here."

Your hand found purchase on the driver's side door. Say something. Give me a reason to stay. "Maybe your sense of guilt has finally returned and your brain wanted to make amends."

He rolled his eyes, and it felt like a stab in your chest. "I'm going to leave now."

"Thank god." The words tasted sour in your mouth and you realized that he hadn't given you a reason to stay; in fact, it had been the exact opposite.

You both went your separate ways again. When you clambered into your car and watched him walk away through your rear view, it dawned on you that the entire conversation had been one massive circle. You wanted to hear him out—of course, you did.

You used to know him, after all. You used to know him so well. And perhaps that was why you hadn't just now.

"We need to talk."

A pair of hands slammed down on your desk and you nearly fell out of your chair. You tugged your earbuds out of your ear to give whoever this was a piece of your—

You frowned. "Oh. It's you."

Hyunjae frowned back at you. He was wearing a jean jacket today, hair styled presentably. He didn't have to look so good in this lighting, but you supposed even the sun liked to favor him. "Yes, it's me. Can you get up so we can—" He nodded out toward the library window beside you, "—talk?"

"So you want us to jump out the window?"

"You are so annoying."

Your smile was saccharine. "Not as annoying as you."

It had currently been around fifteen hours since he showed up at the back alley to confront you with that sorry apology. You'd woken up this morning less mad and more sad… smad. Sure, you were smad. It seemed that a night of sleep hadn't deterred your ex-best friend from talking to you, and you couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

"You don't even go to this school," you told him in a pathetic attempt to wave him away without actually waving him away.

"This is a public campus, Yn." He pulled out the seat across from you before you could protest. "I don't have to go to this school."

You scowled. The organ in your chest was beating awfully fast—you really hoped you weren't about to get in a screaming match with him here of all places. "What do you want, Hyunjae? You can't just show up everywhere I go unannounced."

"I don't do that."

"I'm starting to think you're obsessed with me, actually."

"Will you just—"

"Heya, Yn." Relief flooded through you at the sight of Changmin and Sunwoo walking up to your table. The former narrowed his eyes behind his dark-framed glasses. "Everything okay?"

You flipped your notebook closed and swiftly packed all of your items up. "Yeah, perfectly," you said. Hyunjae didn't follow as you stood up. "Bye, Hyunjae."

As you walked toward the library exit, Changmin and Sunwoo converged on either side of you. "What was that all about?" Sunwoo asked, his head peering behind you at the boy who was no doubt still sitting at the table. "Why is he here?"

You shook your head and pushed out onto the university grounds, propping the door open for your friends trailing behind. "Dude, I have no idea. He dropped by on my way out of work last night—"

"He what?"

"It wasn't even a productive conversation," you told them. You didn't know where you were going, but you turned around to face them as you walked backward along the path. Maybe you shouldn't have just left him there. "I don't even know how he knew I was at the library."

Changmin's mouth quirked downward. "Isn't this like… kind of creepy? What's with him anyway?"

"Yeah, Yn, how do you know him?" Sunwoo chimed in.

You sighed, face scrunching up as you thought about where to begin. Swiveling back to front, your friends clung onto you—both physically and to your words. "Our parents loathe each other, because they're business rivals, but Hyunjae and I went to the same schools when we were kids and we became friends."

It had been the two of you against the world—best petty friends. That first time his parents had driven him over to your house for a play date, the looks on both yours and his parents had been priceless. It'd been a wonder that they'd let you continue with the play date. From that point on, however, you both became friends for life, all despite the odds.

At least, that was how it had been.

Three years ago, just before both of you were going to begin your college careers, he had pretended that everything between the two of you was nothing more than dumpster fire. He ended up with Kyla, he became a jerk, and you'd spiraled. Had it been something you'd done? Had it been you? Did his parents open his eyes to your families' petty rivalry and get him to turn on you? That was what it had seemed like.

You'd survived, somehow. You had friends now—good friends, nice friends, un-petty friends. (But Hyunjae had been that person for you, too, once upon a time.)

You found yourself in your apartment at six in the evening the next day, staring at a half-drunk glass of wine and a crossword on your coffee table. You'd snatched up one of the newspapers in the lobby to busy yourself with in an attempt to take your mind off thrown cups of coke, bitchy ex girlfriends, and bitter ex friends.

It hadn't worked yet.

A knock on your front door drew your focus away, and you dragged yourself up from the couch to see who it was. Something panged in your chest at the face on the other side of the peephole.

You ripped the door open. "Do you want a restraining order?"

Hyunjae stood on the other side looking a little less put together than yesterday, but still more put together than you. "Yn, can we please just talk?"

"How do you even know where I live?" You asked him, not moving from the threshold, and thus, leaving him no room to come in.

"I literally helped you move in three years ago," he said, blinking. Oh. "Now, can I please come in?"

At least he was saying please, you reasoned with yourself. Begrudgingly, you let him in.

His shoulders seemed to deflate as he slipped inside, and he left his shoes on the show rack by the front door. Once you'd replaced all the locks, you swept past him to your kitchen area. "Want a drink?"

"Uhm, sure. Yeah, thanks."

You came back to the couch with another glass and poured him some of the red.

The two of you sat on the couch beside each other with a comfortable amount of space in the middle. He picked up his glass and chugged the entire thing, while you finished off your own glass and reached for the bottle. It felt so strange to be in his space again—or at least, for him to be in your space again. You didn't know if the jittery kick in your heart was from nervousness, excitement, or both.

What more did he have to say to you?

When you topped your glass off again, Hyunjae refilled his own.

"What do you want from me, Hyunjae?" You asked him for what felt like the hundredth time within the past week. You didn't have the heart to look at him now, the alcohol making your brain buzz and your chest heavy.

He nursed his glass, elbows braced on his knees. "I'm sorry," he said, clearing his throat when his voice came out rough. He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. "You're probably so fucking tired of me, but I just… I knew I had to make things right."

You tugged your legs onto the couch and tucked them under you. "Why? Because you broke up with your girlfriend for throwing soda in my face?" For a moment, the thought amused you. Out of all the things to break up with Kyla for—out of all the things—it'd been over Coca-Cola.

Hyunjae swallowed down his wine. "No, that's not—that's not why I wanted to break up with her. I mean, part of it, of course. She'd disrespected you and your friend and the workplace."

His words and their sincerity drew your eyes to him on your left. His head hung, but you could see the glazed look in his eyes, dulling out those pretty, mahogany irises of his. He looked like your Hyunjae for once, not the one who had appeared in the doorway of the pizzeria with his arm around a girl who didn't appreciate him or anyone.

"And I'm sorry for that," he continued. "I'm sorry I didn't do more to prevent that from happening."

You stared down into the dark stillness of your wine glass. "Well, it wasn't exactly your fault," you said quietly.

You heard him huff, "Yeah, sure." He lifted the glass up to his lips again, and you did the same.

"The little altercation was recorded and posted online," Hyunjae suddenly said. "And when my parents saw, they pretty much backed out of the partnership between our company and Kyla's parents'. They didn't let me break up with her before because of the contract or whatever, but after that PR nightmare, they pretty much cut ties for me."

He took another swig, and you found yourself really looking at him this time.

"I was and have been an asshole to you, Yn," he said. "And it's no excuse, but it was… I was just trying to make it easier for both of us."

The wine was penetrating your defenses. Or maybe that was his story. But either way, the stinging in the corners of your eyes led to a watering of your vision, and everything was getting blurry. The lights, him, your whole view of the situation. His parents hadn't turned him, but shackled him instead.

"I thought," you began, lifting a hand up to wipe your eyes dry, "you hated me."

Hyunjae raised his head, shaking it, then hanging it again. He drank. "I couldn't hate you. I tried—I tried to make it easier to see you differently, but… Yn, you were my best friend." His voice broke at the end and he swallowed. "I thought about you so much these past few years, and it was so hard to get through it without you."

Your heart was sinking fast into your stomach and you could feel it hammer against your bones. You'd thought about him too much, as much as you loathed to admit. The man who you felt had simply thrown you away… how pathetic was it that you couldn't stop caring? But now, the lens was widening. Maybe your feelings weren't so unique.

Both you and Hyunjae moved at the same time, arms raising to drain your glasses of the last bits of wine.

You told yourself it was the wine that was making you want to cry, but when you and Hyunjae looked at each other, his eyes were lined with silver. He sniffled, setting his glass on the coffee table. "I'm sorry," he whispered, biting his lip when emotion made him screw his face up and turn away from you.

You put your glass next to his and clambered over the sofa to wrap your arms around him. He turned his face into your chest and sobbed, the sound coaxing a crest of emotion out of you, too, and you held him and rocked him through the oncoming waves.

It was the wine, you thought. God it was the wine. It had to be the wine.

But your best friend was here in your arms, where he belonged, you liked to think. He was home.

You curled your hand over the back of his head, your cheeks damp. "'m sorry they forced you into that relationship," you rasped. The bitterness was sweeping back in a different color. "I wish I knew."

He sniffled. "They threatened to do something to your parents' company. I couldn't—I couldn't let you and them get involved."

The confession stabbed through you. You had no idea what his parents had told him, and made him do, for the sake of business. You had no idea how unhappy he was, and god—you wished you'd known. Maybe things wouldn't have come to such hurt.

Hyunjae pulled himself away from you and wiped his eyes. "I think after all that shit, I'm a little fucked up."

The both of you shared a watery laugh, the space that had originally been left between you, nonexistent.

You cupped the sides of his face. "You made it though, and you've been so strong, Jae."

His bottom lip trembled. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "Yeah, I forgive you." How could you not? And it was the wine—you swore it was the wine—that had you leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his hairline. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into you, his hand reaching up to cover your hand with his own.

"I like you a whole lot better than her," he murmured.

"I'd hope so," you mused, patting his cheek. "You deserve to have someone so much better than her."

He gulped, eyes searching your face. "You think so?"

"I know so."

Your heartbeat stuttered when he leaned forward slightly. You could smell the wine on his breath as it fanned over your skin. It felt as if the world slowed in that moment—the lights were dimmer, his eyelids low, lips shiny and plush.

And then he blinked, energy and alarm and… something else in his expression. He pulled out of your hold and his ears turned bright red. "I should go."

Your lips parted. "Wait—"

He practically leapt off the couch and banged his knee against the wall as he hobbled into his shoes. "Damn—I—" he opened the front door, pausing over the threshold. You didn't know why he was leaving; you wanted him to stay. Why, why, why was he leaving? "I, uhm, I've overstayed my welcome."

The door rattled as he closed it behind him, as if to tell you to not follow him out. You were left on the couch alone again, two empty glasses of wine, feeling stripped.

What the hell was that?

"And he just… left?"

You nodded, sweeping the apron around your waist over the hook in the back room of the pizzeria. It was late when yours and Dae's shift ended, as per usual. The shop was pretty much closed, leaving the two of you and two of the cooks who usually closed up the establishment when you both left.

For the entirety of your shift, you had been turning over yesterday's events over and over again. "I don't know what I did wrong, y'know? Maybe I crossed a boundary or something? I dunno."

Worry gnawed at your stomach as you recalled what happened to Dae. You both stepped out of the back of the building to head to your respective cars. It was dark out, as it usually was, with a few street lights along the road that you and Dae stuck to while walking.

As you approached your car, you noticed Hyunjae standing beside it with his hands tucked in his pockets and his head turned toward you. Rather than the sourness you'd felt for him at the beginning of the week, the feeling twisting in your chest was sweeter, but bitter still.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Dae said to you softly with a gentle nudge of your arm. She walked ahead of you and passed by your car to get to hers, leaving you to confront the man plaguing your every thought for the past week.

You swallowed as you made your way over to the driver's side door where he was standing. "Hey."

Hyunjae gave a slight bob of his head. "Hey."

"Did I do something wrong yesterday?" You asked him, earnestly, searching his face for any hint as to why he had left so abruptly.

"No, it wasn't your fault—it definitely wasn't your fault," he told you. He sucked in a breath, carding a hand through his hair. "I had an epiphany of sorts."

"An epiphany?" You furrowed your brows.

His cheeks had flushed slightly, and he couldn't exactly meet your eyes. "I thought it was just the alcohol clouding my judgment, and in combination with all the emotions, and I just—" he shook his head. "It's probably not important, but…"

You bumped your elbow with his. "Jae, you're here. It probably is important."

A small smile curled up onto his face. "Y'know," he began, finally lifting his head to look you in the eyes, "she would have agreed with me and brushed me off."

You knew who the "she" he was talking about was. You frowned. "She was never good enough for you, Hyunjae."

"I know." He sighed. "I just wanna be enough for you though now."

Surprise lit across your face, and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach start to take flight. You couldn't think coherently with his words, and you were probably reading into it too much. The two of you had been away so long that you probably forgot how to read him; there was no doubt that something changed over the past three years, right?

When you failed to find a reply, he shifted slightly, his body facing straight toward you. "I've had a lot of time to think, and the whole time I was with her, I just kept comparing her to you." He stepped closer to you and his hand reached out to tentatively take your fingers with his. "She never measured up; maybe that made me even more bitter for ruining our friendship."

You met his eyes. There was that glimmer of the rich brown like what you'd seen last night. (Your Hyunjae was present and accounted for.) "What… what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I," he said, fully taking your hands with his, "would like to start over on a slightly different note. But if you don't feel the same, we can start wherever you're comfortable with."

It would be different, you realized. But it would be a good different, right?

You found your voice, curled your fingers around his in the space between you. "Okay."

His smile slowly widened, his eyes squinting into upturned crescent moons. "Okay?"

You nodded, returning the expression. "Let's start over on that different note."

The pizzeria was as alive as usual. It was warm, smelled like tomatoes and cheese and bread, and it was still your home away from home. You had just finished your break and were tying your apron back on when Dae bumped her hip against yours as she passed by with a tray of dirty dishes.

"Your banshees just got in," she said, before disappearing through the kitchen doors.

Your gaze went to the door where you found your five friends, and the additional three, who were filing in altogether. You made eye contact with one person in particular, his smile softening into something fond at the corners of his mouth. He lifted a hand in greeting, grabbing everyone else's attention as they said their hellos to you.

The eight of them made their way over to the round table in the back corner, piling into the chairs around it.

"Waitress! Waitress!" The hyena-like sound set off an alarm in your head and you came over to the table to give Changmin a stink eye. He grinned innocently. "Oh yay, it worked."

You gave him an unimpressed look. "You sound like a chihuahua."

"Joke's on you, I think chihuahuas are cute," he huffed, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

You braced your hand on the back of Hyunjae's chair, the other one gently patting the top of his head. He acknowledged your greeting, his hand reaching up to cover yours on the chair back. "What's to drink, y'all?"

A chorus of beverages rang out, and you mentally counted the few repeats and the singles. You promised to be right back, and left to go grab them. As you went, you could hear your boys start up a lively debate about the multipurpose properties of the lemon. You wondered if that was what they had been bickering about on the car ride over here, and you heard Eric say something about lemons for cleaning; Juyeon just said lemonade; and Changmin said for inflicting "more pain." (No, you didn't want to know.)

When you returned to their table to pass out your drinks, you went around, leaving Hyunjae for last. You set his cup of coke in front of him and he passed you a smile.

"You're not gonna dump that on me, are you?" You asked, eyes narrowing playfully.

He grinned. "As long as you don't dump me, we're good."

Sunwoo made a face from across the table. "Yuck, get a room!"

Chanhee smacked him upside the head. "At least they have someone to be yucky with."

"This feels familiar somehow," Kevin pondered aloud. "Like déjà vu."

Jacob shrugged. "Maybe in another universe. I dunno, it seems like something we would have said to Sunwoo at some point."

"Hey!—"

You were halfway through a laugh when Hyunjae caught your attention, twisted around in his chair to smile up at you. "What's up?" You asked him.

His eyes, you could never get sick of his eyes. They glistened in the lighting here. "Nothing," he said swiftly, "I'm just… happy to be here." With you.

You understood, and you caught his hand on the back of the chair and gave him a little squeeze. "I'm happy you're here, too." It seemed that some things were just meant to come full circle.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @kflixnet @ericlvr

#feedback #moot ❧#bar 🎧#no bc painting ur nails w kevin has fs been on my needs-to-be-written list #BRO changmin screeching waiter was lowkey my favorite 💀💀 why do i like menaces

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absfawn · 10 months ago

Note

mean ellie fs loves a little face slapping here and there

idk what this is 😚

mean ellie who has you practically folded in half in your bed. knees pressing against your chest, her rough hands keeping them pinned against you with nowhere else to go. her raspy chuckle is ringing through your ears, and she’s hungrily watching how the tears roll down your face because she’s so deep and she can’t help but scoff under her breath. “can feel me real deep huh?” she mumbled. free hand pressing down on your stomach to prove her point, smirking smugly behind the pieces of hair falling in front of her face, enjoying the way your mouth opens with soft whimpers.

“s’too much, els please” you whined. wide and glossy eyes peering up at her. her hips were snapping against you faster, fucking you harder. she was hitting every spot that had your toes curling, eyes rolling, and fingers clawing at the skin of her arm. “too much” you hiccuped.

“such a crybaby” she tutted. her body leaning forward, pushing your knees even closer to your chest, and grips your jaw in a firm grasp between her fingers. those hazel eyes staring right back at yours, silently watching the tears roll down your cheeks. “my pretty crybaby” she mumbled raspily. groaning like she could feel your cunt clenching around the silicone at her words. knowing there was nothing but truth behind them. “yeah, course you are. look at you, already crying on my cock huh?”

no words form in your throat so you’re just nodding wordlessly up at her, lips parting with soft moans. you’re already so out of it that you’re barely registering ellie removing her fingers from your jaw and looking at you with such a smirk that you have to blink away the tears in your eyes repeatedly. “el?” you mumbled.

“say it” she groaned. stroking the side of your face with her fingers. “tell me you’re my pretty crybaby”

she’s so deep that you cannot think a single right thought and there’s no sign of her slowing down the longer you just look at her, mouth wide open and the only thing leaving your damn mouth is pornographic sounds that have her cocking her head to the side just slightly, lips forming into a pout. “too fucked out to say anything?” she rolled her eyes.

the sudden feeling of her hand hitting your cheek— not enough to seriously hurt you, just enough to have your ears ringing, skin lightly stinging, and brain going to mush, once again has your cunt clenching around the silicone, whines slipping from between your lips and nails digging harder into the skin of her arm. “els” you whimpered.

“say it” she muttered. fingers soothing the pain in your cheek, squishing them gently with a chuckle.

“m’your pretty crybaby” you sighed. leaning your face into the palm of her hand with a tired smile. her thumb making quick work towards your lower lip, where she brushes the rough pad of skin across it, humming.

“i know” she mumbled. tongue wetting her dry lips as she just swipes the spit from yours all over. “always so pretty, but you look even prettier when you’re crying on my cock”

#ೃ⁀➷ mail received #꒰ bella baby ꒱#୨୧ etheralparadise #i have a problem #i just want her to slap me idfk #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams drabble

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leovenuslatina · 7 months ago

Text

Tryna get drunk and nasty? ⋆.˚ .𖥔˚

──★ ˙ ̟🍷 !!

THIS READING IS 18+ MDNI !!!!!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

this reading is all about what kinks your FS might have

🍓

₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊this is just a reminder that tarot isn’t permanent or set in stone YOU decide how your life goes no one or nothing else now take a deep breath and choose the pile that calls to you ₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊˚⊹

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

pile 1 - justice, queen of swords, king of wands

🪄

your FS is obsessed w eye contact while you ride him. while you suck him off. he wants you to look him right in his eyes. i pulled a lot of sword and wand energy so i’m getting he has a kink for watching you please him. he likes seeing you skin on his knob lmao. he thinks you look so pretty and perfect on your knees for him eyes tearing up and mascara running down your face just all fucked up on his dick. what it comes to pleasure he’s very equal he likes pleasing you as much as you please him. he may be a dom. liking to take control which makes a lot of sense with him liking to see you on your knees his favorite thing to do it tell you what to do. he may also have a slight pain kink he likes to spank you and choke you but i also think he may like pain inflicted on him he likes when you bite him and when your nails scratch down his back.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

pile 2 - the magician, judgment, the well

💤

pleasure kink and somno your FS he likes watching you moan and squirm for him. he likes when you’re moaning his name while he goes down on you. he loves making you finish on his fingers everything from the way you sound to the way your body reacts to his slightest touch is just magical to him. both his tongue and his fingers are extremely skillful making your body his playground. he also maybe into ddlg he really likes taking care of all your needs. he loves being the person you depend on for pleasures or just a nurturing touch.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

pile 3 - two of wands, page of swords, the empress

❣️

your FS has a breeding kink FOR SURE. he really likes the idea of finishing in you know that his seed will make you a big family. he also really like doggy doing you from behind and traveling his hands all over your body. he also may like doing you in front of a mirror watching him slide in and out of you and seeing your face is a huge ego boost for him. he likes being rough too he likes pulling your hair and pinning you down (all with you consent of course) and just having his way with you. he’s like really obsessed with your boobs and doing stuff with them lol use your imagination he definitely has a body worship kink your body is like a whole masterpiece to him. a masterpiece he can’t believe you allow him access to. 💭. also like you’re the prettiest girl in the world to him and i’m seeing he’ll try anything for you. 🥹

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

for paid private readings dm me 💘

3 questions - $20

6 questions - $30

long channeled message - $90

plzzz no questions about health or death ☠️

#black tarot readers #pick a card tarot #tarot #daily tarot #pick a pile #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot daily #future spouse #18+ mdni #mdni

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stardustloserdoll · 10 months ago

Note

HEYYY POOKIE!!!! hru? I hope ur doing well. can u do dating johnnie headcannons please?????

HIII IM GOOD!! HOPE UR DOING WELL TOO❣️

dating johnnie:

he definitely spoils you, anything you want he’s getting for you. even if you bring it up one time you liked something you saw, he’s buying it for you

he’s super clingy but it’s so cute, he can never stay away from you, he loves you so much

he always complimenting you and kissing your cheek and neck

idk why but i feel like he sleeps with his eyes open. you wake up in the middle of the night and when you look over you see him like 👁️👁️

when you have to leave for work he whines and extends his arms out to you

“johnnie i have work! im sorry..” “nooo come back to bed, 5 more minutes please..”

he lovesss doing your makeup, and he loves watching you do it. he has hearts in his eyes 🙁

when you’re really tired he wipes your makeup off for you and helps you get ready for bed

when you heard that he couldn’t pronounce his g’s you thought it was so cute

“babe do you want weens or burgers?” “do i want..weens. wings?” “weens yeah!”

you both gossip and paint each others nails

you mostly spend the whole day in bed just cuddling and sleeping with jake leaving food outside your door

when you got piercings/tattoos for the first time he held your hand the whole time

when you get home he always runs to you and gives you a kiss on your cheek

always holding hands, even if you are guys are sleeping

going to walmart/target for no reason because you’re bored

horror movie marathons fs, and when you guys are watching a movie he tells you some fun facts about it

at parties you guys mostly stay with each other but when you get bored you drive to 7/11 to get slushees

ugh ik he will prolly write a song about you and play guitar for you

he turns his funko pops away from you guys so that they don’t see you guys when you do “it” 😭

you both scroll on tik tok and eat chicken nuggets together in bed or any food in general

he definitely try’s to learn how to drive so he can get his license and take you to places

you both can just sit in silence together and listen to music without saying anything to each other

he soft launches fsss, but eventually shows you on streams and in a couple of videos

he loves when you trace his tattoos and when you run your fingers through his hair

whenever you guys are together you’re always laughing

he lovesss seeing you with his shirts and hoodies

calls you babe and honey a lot

#johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader

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madetolove · 2 years ago

Text

Deniss Vasiljevs

Two Men in Love

Bloodstream

Sarakiz: II. Romanza/The Battle Drums

#nail art #fs nails #ginny's stuff #deniss vasiljevs

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jiminrings · 7 months ago

Text

fail-safe (3)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 14k

glimpse: you hear everything you've ever wanted, but you don't know if it's too late.

alternatively, yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ still angst (but u can breathe now bc it’s the finale), brother’s best friend AND single dad au, jealousy, yearning from all angles, did i say angst alr (mom-wise and brother-wise), fluff, redemption ]

notes: this is it for the chronological series of fail-safe :-) from the bottom of my heart thank you so sooooo much for reading n loving!!! sharing fs with the lot of u is an experience (and era) i'll never forget!!!

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Your trip back home isn’t as rough as you expected it to be.

Somehow, there’s a huge difference between coming home alone and coming home with Jungkook. There’s an irreplaceable weight in your chest that still flares even at the mention of Yoongi, the anger you have towards him mixing with the trepidation of holding everything in you, not just him, for another three days. There’s an angry rash around your fingertips just waiting for you to pick on your nails until they’re raw because atleast in that way, you get to forget the way Yoongi’s hand picked up yours in the dark.

There’s an ache in you that not even Yoongi and Hyewon could undo by never having met in the first place. It’s long been there, perhaps even older than Haneul. The ache of unfulfillment in you is bred by everything significant in your life — all from your first argument with your mom because of your lack of direction in life, to your latest heartbreak that keeps manifesting into your first ever.

You're no longer angry recounting the fact that you weren't destined for greatness. Namjoon turned out beyond great, world-renowned even, despite living in the same home that you did. Maybe it's not your environment or your lack of a passion that hindered you — maybe, it's just you alone.

Maybe, some part of you had ached too much from reaching (read: loving) too far up, you're doomed to live the rest of your life unfulfilled. Yoongi's never been yours, but the way your heart withdraws from him is as if he's always been.

You've done your share. You've completed your fill. You've worked yourself to the bone to make anything (not something, and certainly not everything) out of yourself that even if you're not decorated in sports like Namjoon nor celebrated in music like Yoongi, you have a fail-safe to fall back on.

You're earning more than the white collars you could recognize from your old yearbook and even if it's to look after someone, to look after Jungkook and his craft, and neither use your actual degree nor make a name out of yourself — a part of you feels fulfilled.

If being fulfilled meant being in the shadows as a manager; if it meant caring for someone in a professional context yet in a way you've always known with practice, with love, through the years– you'll take it.

You'll take the peace of being fulfilled without a trophy than to be listless trying to compete for first place.

You're fulfilled now to be sitting at the passenger seat of your own car because despite having never been to your place anymore, Jungkook fought with you in order to get his hands on the wheel.

You're fulfilled now, even if you only took Jungkook's silly suggestion (read: insistence) of fake-dating him just so you wouldn't have to face your family and Yoongi alone. You're fulfilled despite having no real place in neither men's lives.

Oddly enough, Jungkook wants to be both. He wants to be fulfilled and compete for first place in a position in your life that he can't even say to your face.

Jungkook holds you right in the middle of the living room, his eyes wide and grin sparkling as if the director had already said action! and the task for him was to act out what being in love looked like, right in front of his female lead's family in her childhood home. (Read: he isn't acting at all.)

“And he’s…?” your mom lets the question hang in the air, eyes trailing from Jungkook’s face, to his bicep, to how his forearm fits snugly against your back and his hand curls around your waist. Your mom visibly looks surprised, although you don’t know if it’s about the fact that you actually came back despite everything, or if it’s because her favorite actor is in her kitchen while she’s sweaty in an apron, or if it’s because said favorite actor leaves no space between the two of you.

“Jeon Jungkook, ma’am. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he greets politely, a little jittery now that he’s face-to-face with her. He’s only heard of the woman she is from you and as much as he tried to picture her from memory, your stories don’t do her much justice. Jungkook’s always loved your kind eyes and your sweet smile, but he knows now where you’ve got it from; in fact, if he turns around right now right after shaking her hand and bowing profusely, you’re showing exactly those to him — that, along with a pair of gazes he can’t place.

Those gazes aren’t kind at all. One is confused and dumbfounded, and the other harbors nothing but hostility and anger.

“Sweetheart, I know you. Who doesn’t?” your mom’s at a loss for breath, mouth still agape as she keeps flickering her eyes between the two of you. She knows that you’re his manager, but what she doesn’t know is why the Jeon Jungkook is in her humble kitchen of all places. He has the most expressive and sincere eyes ever — he can’t possibly mistake your childhood home as a filming set and your waist as a hand rest.

You finally placate her thoughts when you speak, the loaded silence between the three of you (it’s buzzing with tension if you account for the other two) breaking. You actually giggle, your laughter taking the load off her shoulders because you’re happy; you don’t feel an ounce of guilt even if you’re lying to her face.

“We’re dating, mom,” you grin. “Jungkook’s my boyfriend.”

Jungkook smiles automatically, feeling your hand snake towards his own. His palm’s much bigger than yours yet it’s warmer than you’ve ever imagined, the envelope both of your hands make putting you at ease.

Your mom’s gasp bounces across the walls. Namjoon’s head that’s only been lowered the entire time you’ve been back suddenly whips to look at you and Jungkook. The fridge even lowers its hum to make way for the theatrics aimed at you, yet your eyes are fixed on your mom’s and Jungkook’s alone.

You came home for her and with him. You’re not here for anyone nor anything else because it’s merely a play for your survival, only this time, Jungkook’s hellbent on increasing your odds.

Yoongi freezes evidently, hand tightening around Haneul’s bottle as if it would do anything to release the red from his vision. He staggers silently, breathing suddenly ragged as he stares down at the offending steel cylinder. It’s small. Compact. If anything, he figures it would hurt if he were to throw it at anything. Anyone. Someone, even.

“Wow, that’s.. that’s amazing!” she embraces the both of you, making you and Jungkook share a gaze you only laugh through because he actually looks honored.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to let you know personally,” he apologizes meekly for a mistake that isn’t even one in the first place, the humility in his tone making your ears perk. It’s Jungkook onceagain with the apologies towards you that he shouldn’t be making at all, and yet, even in front of your family, he persists.

Jungkook apologizes even for the things he hasn’t done, not because he plans on doing them, but because a large part of him wants to be in the actual situation wherein those mistakes were merely possibilities.

“It’s no problem at all. You’re busy getting all these awards, I know how that’s like,” she jokes, unable to stop smiling. “I’m just glad someone’s taking care of my baby.”

“And I don’t plan on missing a single day, ma’am.”

“Stop that,” she chides, shaking her head eagerly. “You can call me mom.”

Yoongi lets the bottle clatter to the sink.

( ♡ )

Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep last night.

He’d woken up in a cold sweat hours before his alarm was supposed to go off to cook dinner for everyone, even if it was only yourfavorite. The anxiousness that bubbled in his veins when he was asleep was going to burst and while Yoongi thought nothing of it initially, he realizes in panic that it was actually pointing to something.

He woke up next to Haneul and he was placated momentarily, but the knot tied around his heart tightens twofold when he sees Hyewon on the same bed.

On your bed.

The guilt that filled Yoongi then was enough for the bile to creep up into his throat, making him stagger outside to find Namjoon pacing right outside of his own bedroom. His personal phone’s tucked in between his ear and his shoulder, his hands preoccupied scrolling through whatever it is on his work phone. Yoongi momentarily stops his panic to inquire why the hell Namjoon’s panicking and why did he just see a glimpse of your social media accounts pulled up to the screen, your following list staring your brother in the eyes.

“What? What happened? Is it Y/N?”

Namjoon only looked at him with nothing but pity and guilt, the resentment he had for himself bleeding through the way he shifted his gaze to him.

“She saw you and Hyewon.”

Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep since.

He didn’t even blink when Hyewon thanked him and said her goodbyes. He wasn’t even fazed when his ex-wife kissed Haneul goodbye and his son only resumed playing with his blocks. Yoongi hadn’t even tended to himself throughout the entire night, surrendering himself to be awake in your couch in the far event that you’d come home.

Yoongi wanted to follow you home, except almost exactly similar to the past, he had chased you out of what’s supposed to be your own home in the first place. The difference now was that he didn’t mean for Hyewon to be on your bed at all, let alone your room, but in the back of Yoongi’s thick skull — he figures that it won’t be enough for you.

Yoongi waits for you all night throughout the morning like a loyal dog waiting for its master, his chest rising up and down in hope yet his chin down in despondence. You do end up coming back home though, but your presence is neither unaccompanied nor for him.

With you is Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend.

If only Haneul hadn’t asked for his bottle to be brought upstairs because he’s watching cartoons on Yoongi’s laptop, he would’ve collapsed on the floor then and there, uncaring of the way everyone else would be looking down on him.

If only Namjoon’s gaze wasn’t flitting to him to gauge his reaction because it’s the first time he’s, or by everyone else rather, hearing that you have a boyfriend, Yoongi would put his hands on his head and curse until his piercing migraine suddenly disappears.

If only your mother wasn’t here, frozen in the kitchen mostly because of what you just revealed and who you came home with, and partly because she’s waiting for him to finish washing Haneul’s bottle, he would’ve thrown up right in the sink.

Yoongi gathers all his pain and keeps it shut within himself until he gets you alone, catching you by the staircase when everyone else has dispersed.

“I’m sorry. Namjoon told me what you saw and-…” he stops himself when you look up at him with an innocent yet empty gaze, the weight of it (or lack thereof) startling him. “Let me explain why Hyewon was there in your bed.”

“I don’t want to listen,” you enunciate clearly, keeping your voice down because both Jungkook and Haneul are a few steps away. You do it for their sake and not for Yoongi’s, the bitterness in your chest physically restricting you to think about his state.

Yoongi pushes on, breath already catching in his throat when you’re still stiff as a stone. You haven’t even made a break for it yet; he only unconsciously held onto you out of fear that you’ll be out of his sight. “She was in the area because her parents are old and they don’t know much about selling their house here a-and well, she knows that I did the same for my parents when they sold ours. Nothing happened. I just helped her with the sale! S-she was playing with Haneul in the living room while I napped a-and, I just… when I woke up, they were right next to me. Y/N, I swear, nothing-…”

You shake your head fervently, the innocence of his reason doing little to break the seal in your stomach. You feel it dropping once again and even if Yoongi’s right, even if he’s saying the truth, the sight alone of him appearing to be a part of a happy family jogs up all the pain.

“I don’t want to listen and you don’t have to explain either.”

“But I hurt you. That’s why I want to explain,” he stutters. Yoongi’s eyes are so glassy, you could see your reflection in them.

“Oh. So you know,” you whisper, teeth harshly digging into your bottom lip. “I hate Hyewon for a lot of things but not for being the mother of your child. That’s out of my reach. I get it. She’s his mom and that’s that,” you admit, the vacancy in your chest and on your ring finger reminding you what Yoongi had never given you the chance for. “What I hate is that you let her sleep in my room. Seeing Haneul in there is good. You and him? That’s okay because I let you sleep in there,” you heave, voice close to breaking because of how you force it to be tamped down. “I hate how you let her sleep in my room, Yoongi. I-I, I fucking hate it because it’s just like that time I caught you practically fucking her in my room.”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-…” Yoongi sniffles, tears already pouring. The staircase in your house is far too narrow to hold the both of you, let alone your history. “I didn’t think. I didn’t notice, a-and, I didn’t think. I didn’t think at all, Y/N. I thought it was okay for a split second because we looked like-…”

“A family,” you finish for him. “I get it. I do,” you nod your head fervently, your own hand snaking to your lips to stop the sharp inhale that pains you from the inside. “Almost everyone loses their sense of reason when it comes to family.”

“I didn’t notice she already entered the room. But I-I woke up,” Yoongi still swears up and down, adamant on his truth that you aren’t open to entertaining because he’s hurt you far too many times before. “Hyewon and I… we’re not. We’re co-parenting.”

“Still a family.”

“But-…”

“What the hell do you want to hear from me, Yoongi?” you snap, voice finally toning down when you notice faint footsteps coming from the second floor. “Do you— do you want me to agree with you and say that the three of you aren’t a family? And for what, s-so that could somehow excuse you for everything you’ve done? I don’t even know what family’s supposed to mean at this point!”

From upstairs, Namjoon suppresses a sob.

“My mom doesn’t know a single thing about all of this. I-I can’t even cry to her because I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of protecting you, your son that she looks to as a grandson, a-and even your mom who’s her best friend,” you break into tears, ignoring the baby towel that Yoongi keeps on his person all the time that he offers to you. You sound far too defeated, and maybe you actually are, that Yoongi lets you push past him. “Meanwhile, my own brother probably knows everything but his first instinct is to protect you. Not me, his actual sibling. You.”

Namjoon had been waiting for you upstairs. He’s been barricading the door to the bathroom because he knows you can’t go to bed without your nightly shower, and because he knows that out of every space in the house, it must be the only one left wherein you can be truly alone with no hint of Yoongi.

“We have to talk,” he gets out as soon as you make eye contact with him, the towel that’s slung on your shoulder almost falling at the urgency to which he pulls you aside.

“It can wait.”

“I need to apologize,” he pleads once again, gripping your wrist gently like he had always done when you were kids to get you to listen to him.

“And I said it can wait. I can’t stand you right now,” you grit, the tears on your cheeks barely being dried up when Namjoon, unsurprisingly, decides to apologize to you within the same timeframe as Yoongi. They hadn’t planned it at all — the guilt and remorse weighed far too heavy for them to actually communicate.

“Where will you sleep?” he asks instead, exhaling heavily because you’re insistent on not crying again in barely your first night back, again. “Where will Jungkook sleep?”

“We’ll sleep together in a hotel.”

“Hotel?” Namjoon asks loudly, eyes bulging in shock. His voice is far too loud that everyone in the house (and maybe even your neighbors) must have heard him. “That’s nonsense. This is home, Y/N. You don’t have to book a hotel.”

“It is?” you seethe, your closed fists tightening on themselves painfully. “Did you also say the same thing to Hyewon? To Yoongi in the first place?”

“It’s my fault for-…”

You’re unaware that you and Namjoon are neck to neck until your mom chimes in out of nowhere, her gentle eyes asking more questions than she’s actually uttering. “What’s going on?” she switches her gaze between you and him. “Are the two of you fighting?”

“No,” you answer in unison, unable to fit a relieved sigh in between the terse silence.

“It’s nothing, mom,” Namjoon puts a hand on your shoulder, his smile tight and tense. “I was just telling Y/N that she doesn’t have to book a hotel.”

“Why would you book a hotel?” she gasps incredulously, her tone being the exact copy of Namjoon’s just a second ago.

“It’s just crowded in here, mom. That’s all,” you muster a sheepish smile, your posture slouching the more you realize that there’s no way out.

“I can ask Yoongi and Haneul to transfer to Namjoon’s so you can-..”

“No-!” you interrupt her in a hurry, breath hitching at the mention of him. “No, no. That’s unnecessary. I don’t want to sleep in my room.”

There’s a loaded pause between all of you, even between the door that Yoongi has his back on as he listens in.

“You and Jungkook can take my room instead,” Namjoon insists, his offer only barely scratching the surface of the apology that you truly deserve.

“Great. Thanks,” you conclude, already halfway into the bathroom when the sudden thought strikes you, your curiosity (and limit, by extension) getting the best of you to ask Namjoon while your mom’s still here. “How… how much longer are they gonna stay here?”

“I… haven’t asked yet,” Namjoon admits, the animosity you have towards Yoongi not going unnoticed by your mother.

“You need to ask then,” you quip. “This house is too small to have everyone and anyone.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook woke up in peace from sleeping in a bed that isn’t his.

Even before you actually got to shower (and not just sit on the toilet seat whilst trying to compose yourself) since you forgot to retrieve your clothes from your suitcase, Jungkook was already starfished in the middle of Namjoon’s bed. It’s a touching sight atop your own blanket and bug spray that your brother put in for you.

The two of you are far from okay. As a matter of fact, the only people you’re truly okay with in the house is your mom and Haneul; despite knowing that fully, Jungkook still dived in head-first in the middle of your situation. You’ve tried to dissuade him all throughout the five-hour long car ride, and not once did he even budge.

He’s here for you and no one else. He’s snoring in the middle of your sibling’s bed whom you aren’t in good terms with. He’s at ease with you in a province that he’s never stepped foot in, all because he felt compelled to protect you somehow and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Jungkook cares for you, enough to write a note and place it beside him just before he went to sleep, telling you that he’s a messy sleeper and to either jolt him awake to move or just manhandle him to the side so you could also sleep on the bed.

You go for the latter, trying to pry him as gently as you could (but even if you just hauled him like a sack of potatoes, he still wouldn’t wake up because he’s at ease too much; it’s you, of course) before finally calling it a night.

You may have lied awake mulling over the perpetual ache in your chest, but you didn’t cry at all.

Eventually, you fall asleep to the sound of Jungkook snoring.

Jungkook may have slept earlier than you, but he makes sure that you stay in late. (read: he physically tucked you into bed so snugly, you probably can’t even shift your shoulders by a centimeter). He wants to pull his weight around a house he hasn’t even been in, even if you hadn’t asked him to — you’d never do, because even as a manager and not as a fake-girlfriend, you don’t let him lift a single finger. Simply put, Jungkook feels this massive pull, not to perform for you, but serve you.

He finds himself quietly going down the stairs, still in his socks because you had stolen his house slippers just last night and he doesn’t have the heart to ask you to give them back. He’s quickly figured out the kitchen, getting a soup started before he allows himself to sit on the dining table by himself.

It turns out that Jungkook’s not alone at all.

“Hi.”

His ears perk at the soft voice that comes from the side of him, eyes immediately setting on the toddler who’s still dressed in his pajamas and has a similar case of bedhead to him.

“Hey buddy. Nice bangs,” Jungkook chuckles invitingly, pulling out a chair for Haneul to which he gets up on easily by himself.

“My appa cut them for me,” he answers with a smile, shyly pointing to Jungkook’s forehead with an eager finger. “You have bangs too. Who cut yours?”

“My girlfriend. I think she can be a hairstylist one day,” he hums, not feeling guilty over lying to him when it’s only a half, easily-corrected lie. You may not be Jungkook’s actual, real girlfriend, but you did cut his bangs when he asked you to. He couldn’t be bothered going to the salon and you didn’t have the energy to argue with him otherwise, so that’s how he ended up with choppy, viral (it only became viral because he has them) bangs that gained him a few dozen articles or so.

Jungkook doesn’t have kids of his own, but what he does have are several nephews and nieces. He’s the youngest of four children, and that’s perhaps the reason why he could empathize with you. He’s never been through what you have, and although you would never wish for him to do so, a part of him wants to know what it’s like — not because he seeks the pain, but because he wants to know how he could empathize with you better

With Jungkook being Jungkook, it’s perhaps the reason why he’s one of the gifted few people who could strike up a sensible conversation with a toddler and make them laugh without doing anything at all.

Something about Jungkook makes Haneul laugh so loudly, he wakes up almost everyone in the house in peace. Even Jungkook’s attempt at lame jokes tickle Haneul more than the way Namjoon’s ever tried in earnest to make him laugh.

You’ve already slinked past the two of them on the dining table, tending to the soup and the few hundred side dishes Jungkook started on but paused just to talk to Haneul.

“Haneul, don’t believe your uncle-…” you chime over a playful dig that Jungkook makes in your expense, the giggles that had only been filling your ears just seconds ago instantly ceasing when you notice Yoongi standing near you.

“Uncle?” he raises his brow at you, turning his attention to his son. “Haneul, what did I say about talking to strangers?”

“But he’s not a stranger. I saw him in that movie!” he frowns, the immediate awe that slips out of Jungkook’s lips not helping his case in the slightest.

“Still a stranger,” Yoongi smiles tightly, his exhale dragging out as he mulls over the eerily domestic sight of the three of you.

“But he’s Uncle Kook,” Haneul reasons with him, pointing his finger at you. “He’s auntie’s boyfriend.”

Yoongi’s softened a little bit since breakfast.

He was never mad at Haneul in the first place (more like halfhearted because he still stands by his lesson of not teaching him to talk to strangers, even if they’re a worldwide-famous actor, but those are not his words at all) but what he is annoyed about is the scene that he walked into.

It looked far too natural for you to look like Haneul’s mom and for Jungkook to look like him, maybe even better as a dad despite not having children at all, that he thought he was seeing red.

Haneul’s lying on his shoulder as they rewatch Bluey for the second time in the living room, the shadow of your alleged boyfriend walking past him until he registers the accent, later doing a quick turnaround that makes Yoongi ultimately irritated and Haneul more than happy.

“Oh cool. I love Bluey!” Jungkook says sincerely, inviting himself to sit on the lone sofa chair to watch the episode.

“Wow, you’re just so… quirky,” Yoongi mutters under his breath with a roll of his eyes, his snarky remark making Jungkook’s ears tingle. The latter scoffs slyly, making him finally acknowledge Jungkook, albeit sarcastically. “So what do you do, Jungkook?”

Even before he could answer though, Haneul does it for him with an excitement that only comes out whenever he’s talking about his favorites.

“We watched his movies in the cinema, appa! Remember?”

“Did we?” Yoongi narrows his eyes, playing his huff into a cough. He repurposes the tinge of embarrassment that he feels into snark, running a hand through his hair cockily. “I’d for sure remember an actor if they were good.”

( ♡ )

“Where’s your brother? I need him to do the heavy lifting.”

Your mom asks you with an urgency that parents only past the age of forty could possess, her lips already parted awaiting your response towards a question she asked just two seconds ago.

Even if you weren’t engrossed on an episode of Bluey (Jungkook and Haneul put you into it and you get their laser focus now) just now, you still wouldn’t know about your brother’s whereabouts. Yoongi saves you this time, his response piquing both yours and Jungkook’s interest.

“He’s in practice. Joon took Haneul with him so he could learn too.”

Jungkook looks up from his phone sharply, eyes wide in eagerness. He and Yoongi haven’t even looked at each other since yesterday yet their coordination (read: competitiveness) syncs with the other at the exact second, their insistence on tagging along a menial task making you jolt.

“I’ll come with, mom!”

“I’ll come with, auntie.”

It’s not a competition, yet Jungkook jumps up to stand so quickly, his head almost brushed the ceiling. “Let’s go, babe,” he holds out a hand for you, making you clear your throat as you’re still trying to gauge the situation.

“But what about Yoongi? Poor thing, he’ll be left alone,” your mom awes, her pout only deepening when Yoongi pretends to look crestfallen at being overlooked. He doesn’t have to pretend that much because despite not being the biggest fan of grocery-shopping, especially in your area because it always smelled of eggs despite barely carrying any eggs, he’ll jump at any task to impress your mom, and you by extension.

“I don’t think you should worry-…” you start, already being interrupted in an instant.

“Oh come on, Y/N. Two pairs of hands are better than one! They really have to do some heavy lifting because I forget to tell you about that one time your aunts hounded me for-…” she trails off while telling you a story about your supposedly huge extended family, blissfully unaware that there’s two men fighting to open the door for the both of you.

Yoongi’s driving his car as the most spacious option, making Jungkook snicker under his breath as he blames himself for not bringing his SUV which is clearly more expensive than whatever Yoongi’s driving, even if you elbow him lightly by the ribs because you didn’t ask him to do that.

“Mom, what are you doing here? Go sit in the front,” you nudge her, unwilling to sit next to Yoongi in an enclosed space.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I was just used to you always taking shotgun whenever Yoongi’s driving,” she squeals, fondly clapping to herself as she revisits the memory. “Do you remember that, sweetheart? You’d always fight with Namjoon because Yoongi got his license first.”

It may only be your mom who’s leaning against the center console to look at you in the back, but it doesn’t mean that Yoongi’s ever taken off his attention from you.

“I remember,” Yoongi smiles, looking at you from the rearview mirror. “I never forget.”

The grocery store hasn’t changed one bit.

It still smelled of eggs, the lights still aren’t as bright as they should be, and there’s still trinkets that you’ve always been swayed by being displayed near the register.

You’re taking it all in after not having been back for five years, whereas Yoongi strolls right in, but never ahead of you, as if he’s visited multiple times already since he left your town.

Your mom and Jungkook are side by side as he asks her a question you can’t even discern, only getting to know his actual agenda when you hear his sneakers skidding against the floor as he runs towards the pushcarts.

Yoongi, without even knowing the full context, runs after him because he didn’t want to come in second place for whatever it is that Jungkook’s challenging him to.

“I’ll steer the cart,” Jungkook presents definitively, his hand raised mid-air as if he’s being graded for eagerness alone. He looks like he wants to prove himself even if it’s only you and your mom present; no director, no producer in sight who sizes him up.

“No. I’ll do it,” Yoongi argues out of nowhere, his bruised hands reclaiming the cart under Jungkook’s grasp. He’s not even looking at your mom because his gaze is only fixed on Jungkook who’s just two tugs away from actually spitting at him.

“I said it first,” your pretend-boyfriend forcefully pulls the hunk of metal away from Yoongi, the latter coming along with it for the briefest of seconds before he does the same, this time with Jungkook gasping.

“What, are you method-acting for your next role as a cart-steerer?”

Your mom’s a little perplexed at the scene before her, lips parting in both concern and amusement because for a pair of people who haven’t met each other before, Yoongi and Jungkook are oddly competitive. They want to provesomething, anything, and maybe everything so bad, they neglect the fact that they look ridiculous fighting over a pushcart.

“We actually need two,“ she says to no one in particular, thinking out loud as she goes through her grocery list. “I think maybe even three because-…”

“I’ll get it,” Jungkook rushes out in panic, almost bumping into you in the process. You were only gone for a minute to retrieve your phone from the car and yet he already looks breathless, the knot between his eyebrows untangling when he realizes that it’s you. “Oh. Sorry, babe.”

“I’ll get it, Koo,” you murmur, catching the tail end of what your mom said about the pushcarts. Jungkook’s cheeks are tainted pink in frustration and you can’t help but to be concerned, the back of your hand already flitting against his forehead before you know it. “Are you okay? Sorry, the AC in here is not like the AC in the city.”

“Huh, what? Oh no, it’s okay. I just got into this heated cart argument,” he waves you off, eyes rapidly moving between you, your mom, and Yoongi who’s mirroring his exact actions, except for the glaring hint of annoyance with the way he’s standing so close to you.

“Cart argument? What’s-…”

“We need meat.”

You barely even have a chance to digest what Jungkook’s saying to you before you see him glitch right in front of you in a hurry, the only words to register clearly in your mind being your mom’s. She’s absent-mindedly talking herself through her grocery list (as she always does) and yet the two men right next to her hang onto her every word, the speed they take off on giving you no clue to why they’re acting as such.

“I’ll get it, auntie!” Yoongi gets out even before the wheels of his cart could cooperate, momentarily tripping over himself. Jungkook sputters at that, the laughter that builds in his throat being interrupted because he realizes that the other guy is ahead of him and he simply cannot bear that.

“Beef. We need beef, right, mom? How many kilos. Like… ten? Okay. I’ll get it!” Jungkook dashes even if he’s never been in this grocery store before; even if your mom hasn’t said a single word to either of them.

You’re left dumbfounded in the middle of the store, your gaze unable to locate the distinct sounds of both of their sneakers skidding against the floor.

“I didn’t even say anything,” your mom mutters in confusion, eyes flitting to you with a wonder you can’t place because even if the both of you are lost, she seems to have a better idea than you do. “Are they… competing over you, sweetie?”

“Competing? Me? Why would you even say that, mom?” you huff, leaning against the cart as you snatch her list to get the things she’s actually looking for.

“I don’t know,” she lulls, shrugging carelessly before nudging you. “Jungkook’s your boyfriend and well, I assume Yoongi’s always wanted to be in his position.”

“How did you even come to that conclusion?”

“Small town. Few people. Cute girl, cute guy,” she places, the end of her hypothesis being accompanied by a chuckle. When she says it like that, it sounds far too easy — it sounds far too seamless, you almost wish it was exactly that. “I didn’t even take the news that Yoongi was going abroad seriously because I thought it was a joke. I thought he could never move on from here or Namjoon,” your mom pouts, tilting her head when you freeze. “Much more, he could never move on from you.”

“He did,” you answer through gritted teeth, the grip you have on her list making the paper crumple underneath your hold.

Your mom doesn’t know everything. In fact, you don’t even know if she knows anything at all. You don’t despise her for her lack of involvement because you want to keep her from the chaos of your burdens, and you’ve always wanted to keep it that way.

But the way she speaks now, so full of conviction and faith, you find yourself despising it. She speaks as surely as the way Yoongi speeds past the both of you, weaving through aisles to get items she didn’t ask for, competing for and against a higher power (read: you) that Jungkook himself seeks.

She says it so surely, it’s as if she knows about every waking thought that Yoongi’s ever had in your absence.

“It doesn’t look like he did.”

You ponder over your mom’s adoration for Yoongi, most of which you can’t decipher if it’s misplaced or not. You know he’ll always have a special place in her heart and in her home because she’s known him even before he was born because she’s best friends with Mrs. Min.

Yoongi has a place in your life, no matter if it’s in your own or in the lives of the people you love. He probably has a modern penthouse in Namjoon’s life, the decoration in it improving over time. On the other hand, Yoongi probably occupies an ancestral cabin in your mom’s life that’s been well-maintained for longer than he’s ever been alive, the decor in it being handmade and resilient through the years.

In your life, however, you can’t tell how and if Yoongi occupies it in the first place. For the longest time, his place in your life had come in the form of a mansion that not even a single architect nor engineer could ever think of. For a moment too, Yoongi’s place in your heart came in the form of a little house on a vast farm overlooking the mountains and the sea. Throughout all the houses that Yoongi’s shape-shifted to in your life, you doubt now if he could ever turn into them again.

When you think of Yoongi, all you see is your room.

When you see Yoongi, all you could remember is your childhood house and its shortcomings in your life, especially when you needed to come home to it— to him, the most.

“I’ll pay, mom,” Jungkook snaps you out of your reverie, his whine making your ears ring.

“What? No, Jungkook. This is all too much,” you refuse vehemently, trying to fight him from extending his black card any further.

“It’s not. This is for your family anyway. I, I might have even grabbed extra portions for myself because mom said she’ll repeat tomorrow what she did for lunch today,” he grins, momentarily losing himself to the sight of you that he doesn’t even notice he’s in the process of being one-upped by Yoongi.

“Jungkook, baby, I’ll feel-…”

“I paid for it, auntie,” Yoongi announces, making your lips part and Jungkook’s jaw drop.

“You shouldn’t have, Yoongi,” you scold him softly, a whine already building at the back of your throat but he waves you off easily. Your mom’s thanking him profusely in the background, and while Yoongi’s pleased with the attention, his gaze remains on you.

“But I wanted to,” he insists, pursing his lips. “I should.”

“You’re not family,” is what you want to say.

“But I want to be,” is what he wants to scream.

Wordlessly, Yoongi puts a plastic toy ring he bought from the register into your bag. It’s pink and it’s star-shaped, its mold still the same from all those years ago.

You barrel into your mom’s room just to see Namjoon.

You bit at the chance of giving him the stuff he’s asked for from the grocery as per your mom, taking advantage of her focus on organizing the groceries downstairs to have a one-on-one with your brother.

“You have to make Yoongi drive into the city tonight. Either that or he flies to the US. The reunion is already tomorrow,” you seethe, crossing your arms as he sighs in defeat.

“It’s already late. Yoongi’s driving with Haneul, a kid, alone,” he emphasizes, running a hand through his hair as he himself is troubled by you being in a bind over everything. “And he can’t book a flight back on such short notice.”

“Short notice? What, did he just happen to book a one-way flight and not a round trip one?” you snort in amusement, shaking your head in disbelief. The thought actually cracks you up because out of the three of you, Yoongi happened to be the one more adept to websites despite your limited materials back then. Namjoon remains silent, and with how serious he looks, your face falls.

You can’t believe Yoongi at all.

“He did? You’ve gotta be kidding me, Joon,” you groan, throwing your head back. “What, does that mean Yoongi gets to stay in our home while we’re in this godforsaken family reunion?”

Namjoon delivers yet another blow, his revelation making you more enraged than the last.

“Mom invited them.”

“What? Why?!” you exclaim, chest rising in frustration. “Yoongi’s not family, Namjoon. Atleast not for me.”

He doesn’t miss your added remark at the end of your sentence, the underhandedness of it making him look down on the floor.

Namjoon feels guilty, he really does, but he can’t seem to make it right. He couldn’t even fight you in insisting to apologize that night.

For each day that you try to delay the inevitable of confronting him and letting him taking the fall, of letting him apologize, Namjoon feels more like a big failure for an older brother than he already is.

“But he used to be,” he says under his breath, looking up at you with a stubbornness you can’t place. “Your lifetime versus those five years — which one amounts to more?”

( ♡ )

Everyone gushes over Jungkook.

In an altitude higher than the mountainside that you’re in now, the aunts, uncles, and cousins you didn’t even know you have squeal over your fake boyfriend. By the fifth relative, you’ve already got your routine down of letting them hug you and kiss your cheek before holding Jungkook’s bicep, acting as his bodyguard to make sure they don’t squeeze him too hard or not at all.

“Oh my god, Y/N. Jeon Jungkook is your boyfriend?!”

“I knew it, I knew you were gonna have a partner who’s famous! I dreamed about it when you were-…”

“If that’s your boyfriend, then who’s he?” your cousin (?) whispers to you, cutting himself off as he turns his gaze to Yoongi and Haneul. They’re most certainly not your family, meaning that they’re unrelated to everyone present, so what your relatives (some more nosy than others) can’t wrap their heads around is the fact that there are strangers in your family reunion.

It takes one, two times for your mom and Namjoon to explain who they are and what they’re doing here in the first place, the chorus of nods eventually signaling that they’ve moved on. Some of them could even recall Mr. and Mrs. Min from the neighborhood, and Yoongi could only nod.

It’s not that he doesn’t belong right now — he actually feels the opposite. Yoongi feels that he has a place amongst a barrage of relatives he’s not affiliated to by neither blood nor paper, and it pains him; not because he’s scared of belonging, but because you probably don’t think the same way.

Haneul runs to him underneath the umbrella he’s isolated himself at, his son grasping an assortment of cash, food, and juiceboxes Yoongi most certainly did not pack in Haneul’s backpack from the night before.

“Auntie’s family is really nice, appa. Look what they gave me,” he shows everything that his hands could carry, breathing heavily in excitement as he explains that your relatives told him to come back once his hands are empty.

“Oh dear. They really think you’re adorable,” he laughs, pocketing Haneul’s cash (he swears he’ll give it back) and hiding some of the snacks he’s been given so he wouldn’t give himself heartburn eating too many at once.

Yoongi’s smiling from ear to ear, sitting Haneul in his lap as he overlooks the view of your town from above. Everything looks so small and delicate, you’d almost think none of what laid downhill ever even mattered. He didn’t get views like these in New York.

Yoongi didn’t get people like you in New York.

“Mama’s family isn’t this nice,” Haneul speaks out of nowhere, his thoughts uttered out loud directed more-on to himself than it is for his dad. Yoongi stops in his tracks in trepidation, shoulders tensing over what his son just said. “They never play with me like this. Not like auntie.”

He knows Hyewon’s relatives, albeit not that well. Her family members in the US were not this kind, not this warm, even to a child who’s actually related to them.

Yoongi’s stuck in his thoughts the whole time Haneul sips on his juice, finally being snapped into his reality nowwhen you approach their direction. His son waves at you excitedly even if you’ve just crossed paths minutes ago.

“Here, Haneul,” you hold out a container to him, the gentle smile on your face limited to only him yet Yoongi, for a lack of grace, pretends it’s also for him. “I tried my best to make it look like Bluey,” you chuckle, pointing to the mini sculpture made out of the marshmallows and blueberries that your relatives set aside for him.

Haneul beams at you, thanking you profusely. If only he wasn’t sat on Yoongi’s lap and therefore grounded, he would’ve launched himself at you to hug your legs.

Yoongi takes the hat right off his head, putting it on you while you’re crouched next to his son.

“It’s hot,” he explains, his heart continuously speaking beats the longer that you linger beside Haneul and the longer that he giggles in excitement. “I know you get headaches easily.”

( ♡ )

Despite being reachable, Yoongi still yearns for you.

He yearns for you even if you’re only within arm’s reach, sitting near you but never close enough at the long table because with you, he feels safe. He laughs in the background like it’s a sitcom to every joke and every episode of banter thrown around him. He doesn’t feel out of place with your family — he feels out of place with you.

He’s never been a wickedly jealous type. Even when he and Hyewon were still together and she cheated on him, Yoongi felt more resentful than he was jealous. He didn’t feel this type of way; he didn’t feel inferior. He didn’t feel like he was nursing a loss in his life because he has no choice but to. Yoongi had managed to divorce Hyewon because it didn’t work out between them, and that was that.

Yoongi can neither divorce you nor pull away from you because you’ve never been with each other. He harbors no resentment for you and that scares him, not because he wants to hate you so badly, but because he feels as if everything you’ll do to him, he’ll take it.

Yoongi will take it even if you set a plate for Jungkook despite unconsciously forgetting what he’s always disliked eating when you were still kids. He’ll take the serving tray from your hands still, uncaring if eating the tiniest bite of the food you’ve passed gives him an allergic reaction because you were the one who offered.

He’ll take it even if you hold Jungkook’s bicep in a hurry when there’s a bug that’s getting awfully close to your drink. Yoongi would walk to where you sit and dispose of it wordlessly because even Jungkook himself is scared of bugs. He doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him, because atleast now when he looks at you from a distance, you’re sitting in relaxation and you no longer have to hold your boyfriend.

He’ll endure the jealousy that burns through his throat more than the poorly-made, highly-alcoholic vodka your uncle made himself. He’ll hold onto the poison that is yearning and how he’ll feel like his throat would close up because if you were still young, in this setting of free rein, except you were still in love him like you used to be and he’s in love with you like he is now, neither you and Yoongi would be hurting.

Yoongi will take it. He’ll take the nothing that you give him and give you the everything that you don’t ask for anymore.

Five years versus the rest of your lifetime that you spent being in love with him is only miniscule. The suffering that he’s going through now is only a speck of the years you’ve spent in an unrequited love.

Unlike you, Yoongi’s weak. If he were to say it outloud to you, you’ll never agree because you’ve never regarded yourself otherwise. You’ll go on this tangent that you’ve always been weak, influenced by the times that Yoongi had chastised you for your lack of a passion.

To you, Yoongi had been right in a way.

To Yoongi, he’s always been in the wrong.

He’s crying to you now that the both of you are alone, overlooking the small town he used to be keen on getting out of. Now, more than ever, Yoongi wants to stay in it. He wants to stay with you.

“Why is everything with you so hard?” Yoongi whispers, his tears stinging badly from the corner of his eyes to the point that he can only make out shapes. He’s unkempt and frantic as if his life flashed before his eyes and there’s nothing he could do about it, voice strained like much of the times he’s drank himself to sleep.

He resembles Haneul at the moment. He’s always had because there’s not one bit of Hyewon in his son’s features or personality, but he looks especially like him now that he’s crying. The back of his hands harshly dig into his face, sobs bursting right from his throat. “Why do I make everything so hard for us? Why can’t I— w-why can’t I make it right for once?”

There’s a tremble to your chest that you ignore earnestly, the presence of it enough to scare you because it’s familiar; too familiar. Seeing your past play out in front of you in the form of a seemingly content family sleeping on your bed is one thing, but it’s another to see its patriarch crumble in front of you. It’s different to see your past pleading in front of you for just the slightest bit of your attention.

As a matter of fact, it’s different now because you resemble Yoongi the most.

“You never tried,” you seethe, jumping the gun before you even try to decipher what’s in the barrel. It’s a bullet you fire haphazardly that comes from your pocket that you’ve always held onto. It’s a misplaced, misshapen, old bullet that you force into a gun that Yoongi passed onto you.

Right now, Yoongi doesn’t resemble Haneul, and neither does he resemble his ex-wife.

He resembles you with the way his eyes are clearly swimming in hurt while you avoid looking at his, just to relieve the painstaking feeling of guilt and longing compacted into a sob.

“I never tried?” Yoongi exhales shakily, his quivering hands running through his hair to tug on them.“I never tried?”

You hear yourself clearly even if it’s his voice. The tremble and the anger, even all the way to the blind hope.

“I kept trying to reach out to you every single time. Every single birthday, every single Christmas, every insignificant holiday I could search up!” Yoongi cries — he actually thrashes with the way he sobs, shoulders shaking violently. “I didn’t try? If I didn’t try, try looking at every page of my passport to see all the stamps there are whenever fucking Jungkook was reported to be in another country,” he spits his name like poison, the vitriol behind it, however, never catching up to what he feels about himself.

You resemble Yoongi the most because you stand untethered, eyes blurring and lips quivering, yet you only watch him lose himself before thinking of uttering a single word.

“I’m selfish, I’m an asshole, and I’m fucking insufferable. I can’t even apologize to you correctly,” Yoongi lists, chest rising up and down too heavily, he feels like it’ll give out. “But I love you, Y/N. I-I might be every bad thing in your life right now and I own up to that. I’m still trying to be the best for you.”

Not only does Yoongi resemble you — he’s actually become you.

“You can call me the vilest names ever but you can’t say that,” he grits, teeth chattering not from the cold he’s put himself in, but because he can’t stop mentioning your name in between. “You can’t say I never tried because I always have. I’ll never stop becausethat’s what it takes,” Yoongi mutters; because, he says, not if.

“I love you,” he says it far too clearly for someone who’s drunk; far too sincerely for someone who had spent the better part of his life putting it through your head that he can’t return your affection. “I’ve always loved you.”

( ♡ )

You don’t feel good.

There’s a fever that’s starting to bloom from the base of your skull all the way to your toes, the abnormal warmth you feel in your chest making you unable to interact with everyone else outside of your room. Jungkook had left with your uncles before dawn to go fishing in the nearby lake and never would you think to inconvenience him; to tend to someone like you for something as minor as a fever, or for anything at all.

You already have a system down for taking care of yourself when you’re ill. It started when neither your mom nor your brother were home with you, and it was finally perfected when you had to live completely alone in the big city. All you had to do was gather all the energy you have, spend it at the start to get everything you could possibly need and put them all at the side of your bed, and rest until everything no longer hurts.

The major flaw with your system now is that you don’t have the energy at all. You can’t build up the strength to get up, walk across the hall and interact with your relatives, and rummage through groceries to get what you need without being questioned; you can’t build up the sense of importance you have for yourself to ask for help.

Namjoon comes into your room before you could dance around the idea of asking him to get you water, all because he has this innate sense of guilt in him and you could utilize it to your advantage. Your brother gets ahead of you before you could even register that he’s here with you, his eyes sullen and pleading.

“Can we talk?”

“I can’t exactly storm off right now,” you rasp, your voice fading out into a low chuckle.

“Do you want to talk when you’re able to storm off?” he asks sincerely with a small smile, his hand fixing your hair as gently as he could without making your migraine ring further. “If you do though, then you probably might never hear me out again.”

You stay silent because he is right, but Namjoon feels otherwise. He feels as if he hasn’t been doing anything right at all and you existing separate from him is a constant reminder. His career is at its peak but he thinks he could go higher; his relationship with you is deteriorating and he doesn’t think it could possibly be worse.

“I’m sorry for being a shitty brother,” he apologizes, the first thing out of his mouth being the last thing that floods his mind before he goes to sleep at night. “I should’ve never defended Yoongi, even Hyewon by extension.”

The heat behind your eyes isn’t all from your fever. The tears that prick your eyes aren’t because of the pressure in your head, but because of the fact that you haven’t heard Namjoon apologize to you in a long time; you haven’t talked this sincerely for even longer

“I should’ve put you first,” he sniffles, muttering apologies in between his pauses for finding the right words that would make it okay; that would somehow undo all that he’s been an accomplice to. “I should’ve been this reliable, sturdy man of the house. I-I should’ve been more of a father figure to you-…”

“Don’t,” you interject sternly. “You never filled in his shoes and you should never will. You’re only mom’s son and my brother, Namjoon. It’s never been your job to raise me.”

Even after everything, there’s a gentleness to you that Namjoon’s always loved but hate the most now. He hates that even if he’s the one who’s apologizing, you’re the one who’s saying sorry for the things you didn’t even inflict on him. Neither of you wanted to be raised by only a single parent, yet you absolve him of the guilt he’s always felt.

“But I could’ve been better. I wish I was already better from the start.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think how hard life was for you growing up. I-I would’ve given up football if only-…” he trembles, unable to get the last of his sentence out because you shake your head in earnest.

“Stop.”

“But I mean it. If only I-I didn’t get into football, I could’ve been there for you and mom much often. I could’ve been better and-...”

“But I grew up to be okay, didn’t I? You’re the best at what you do. We’ve managed to retire mom early because we put in the work,” you whisper, the shrug of your shoulders feeling more heavy that it should feel because the words don’t come out easily from you.

“But okay shouldn’t have been enough for you,” Namjoon tears up, bottom lip trembling as you try to take in his words that you’ve always wanted to hear at the back of your mind; you hear them now when you’ve already grown up. You hear them now after you’ve already endured the grief. “I— we should’ve given you the fighting chance to grow up more than okay.”

It’s not Jungkook who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because you’ve temporarily banned him from the bedroom. He only pouted in complaint when you called him, but he didn’t fight you that much either because you’ve called him out for the excitement in his voice to go hiking for the first time.

It’s not Yoongi who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because Haneul asked him to teach him Go (he’s not even that good at it and being the ever unable to show incompetence and have pride especially when Jungkook’s watching father, he discreetly asked lessons from your mom) so he’ll be able to play with your cousins.

Instead, it’s your mom who visits you. Even if Namjoon hadn’t tipped her off that you were feeling under the weather, she’s already had a feeling this morning.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, her hands full of everything you could possibly need and more before plopping them at your side. She makes you sit up even before you could complain, handing you a drink with some medicine you didn’t even know she carried

“Just a little fever,” you answer, getting back into your cocoon.

You don’t even attempt to make conversation because you fear that you don’t have it in you to have a heart-to-heart talk with your mom just minutes after you’ve had one with Namjoon.

You don’t even say anything to her except your thanks. Namjoon didn’t even tell her about your conversation, even if he approached her with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes while saying that it was just allergies.

Your mom feels the guilt spring to her chest even if you don’t utter a single word. She feels the remorse in her eyes when you don’t ask her for anything more. She feels the guilt the most in her hands when you don’t ask her to stay.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like there wasn’t enough space for your burdens growing up.”

“What?”you scramble to get up in a seated position, eyes hazy from how quick you do it. “Mom, you scared me. Where’s this coming from?”

She shakes her head at your cluelessness, eyes stinging when you genuinely look at her innocently. You don’t know what she’s talking about, even if the thought has plagued her for so long.

“You’re not really okay, are you?”

“It’s… just a fever,” you mumble, your breathing already trembling at the way she looks at you.

She’s looking at you like you’re still a kid; ever so fragile and innocent, it’s as if she wouldn’t let a single thing in this world harm you. She doesn’t know a single thing about your feud with Namjoon and your long drawn-out conflict with Yoongi. What your mom does know is that she doesn’t know a single thing about the heartbreak you suppress, and that thought alone makes her hiccup in tears.

“You’re right, you know? Our house is small,” she says, distinctly recalling the tensioned conversation you had with Namjoon back at home. “It’s tiny but it was far too big for you growing up alone,” she inhales sharply, trying not to sob in front of you. “He wasn’t in the picture. I was working a hundred jobs left and right. Namjoon was trying to make a name for himself,” she shakes her head, so much so that the necklace she’s had since you were children, the same one with yours and Namjoon’s birthstones on it, rattles. “I’m sorry for making you feel that you can’t come to me.”

In just a full day, you’ve heard everything that you’ve ever wanted. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted during the school plays where you had no one from your family, except Yoongi, to watch you become an extra up on stage. He’d always deny that he did show up for you and just say that it’s because he was genuinely interested in a play about a poet he didn’t care about in reality, but you take it nonetheless.

It’s everything you’ve ever prayed for watching Yoongi live a life far too advanced for you as he held Hyewon’s hand after school. It’s what you wanted to hear when you begged him not to leave you behind.

“I-I’m okay. I’m really-…” you stutter, looking away before your tears fall in the fear that they’ll never stop.

Your mom only hugs you tighter.

“I’m here if you want someone else to carry your burdens,” she whispers. “I’m here now.”

( ♡ )

It’s the last day of the reunion when you fully recover, and it’s hours ahead of everyone when Jungkook has to leave by himself.

Without even asking for it, Jungkook grants you another week’s worth of break. You didn’t even plan on asking, yet Jungkook’s willing to give you a month if only you do.

You’ve already arranged for his personal driver to pick him up and take him back to the city. You’ve already packed his bags, along with the multiple containers of food that your relatives (and especially your mom) insisted for him to take. You’ve arranged for your substitute to take care of him for his schedules throughout the week, along with the insistent reminder to call you whenever Jungkook needs you. (Read: he does, with or without a schedule.)

Everything is set for Jungkook to leave except for his driver who’d been roped by your mom to be filled with breakfast first, yet with the remaining minutes left, Jungkook’s still with you on your bed.

He lies on your lap even if there’s plenty of space for him to lie parallel to you on a pillow — and you let him.

“Have you ever thought about kissing me?” he asks in the middle of you texting your substitute, the randomness of his thought already being familiar to you. This time, unlike the few thousand times he’s ever asked you something straight off his mind without refining them, is different.

It’s different now because your pretend-boyfriend asks you if you’ve ever thought about kissing him, while looking like he really wants to kiss you.

“Where’d that come from?” you giggle, looking down on him on your lap.

Not once does Jungkook ever look away from you.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, pointing up at you. “Your lips are close to bleeding and it’s bothering me.”

“Sorry for turning you off,” you snort in laughter, wiping at the tiny specks of blood. Jungkook tuts when you rub at them, feeling for his lip balm out of his pocket.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he stresses, going a little cross-eyes when he applies them for you. His eyes keep goading you, the smile he has on his face widening the more that you look at him incredulously. “Sooo… have you?”

You don’t want to lie to him at all.

“If I answer yes, Jungkook,” you toy around with his hair, setting your phone face-down because you can’t focus on anything else now. “We can never come back from that.”

Jungkook laughs in glee so loudly, Yoongi (who was only passing by; he really, really swears he didn’t just happen to eavesdrop in your room because Jungkook’s driver is all done eating and wants to beat traffic) actually flinches.

Jungkook strains to be closer to you, unconsciously training you to lean down. His lips are far too soft — far too close to you, you could see every line and every nuance in them. He whispers, eyes practically crossing at your proximity.

“And is that such a bad thing?”

( ♡ )

You’re back at home when Jungkook texts you that he’s made it back safe, and that he wants to kiss you again.

You’re back at home when Yoongi asks you if he could use the bathroom first because Haneul spilled milk on him during the drive. You’re in your childhood bedroom when you let him clean up first, and you’re sitting on your childhood bed when you volunteer to put Haneul down because he’s cranky and for some reason, wants to be held by you.

You’re back at home too when Yoongi and Haneul are knocked out for the night, and your mom calls you and Namjoon down for all three of you to talk at the dining table.

You’re back at the home you were raised in, sitting on the dining table that’s creaky when more than two people lean their weight into it, in the space you’ve roamed around alone waiting for them to come home, when your mom talks about wanting to sell it.

“You want to sell?” Namjoon’s eyes widen, exchanging a glance with you who’s as equally surprised as he is.

“Yes. It’s under my name, y’know? Not that… man’s,” she snorts, the off-hand mention of your father making you and Namjoon laugh unexpectedly. Your mom looks at ease as she talks about selling your house, the smile she has one her face being shaped with experience and grace. “I doubt the both of you would want to keep this, and besides, the offers I’ve kept for years now are high. You already know that big-shot companies have been buying out houses here for years now because of the growth potential and whatnot. Who knows, maybe our block will be turned into a mall!” she shrugs, the happiness in her tone infectious.

For someone who’s decided on letting go the house she’s both struggled and strived in, your mom’s beyond excited.

For two adults, who were once kids, who’ve seen the amount of sacrifices your mother’s put into the place by herself, you and Namjoon don’t have any objections.

“Also, consider this as me asking for permission to go on a vacation, even if I’m grown, because some people get so paranoid when I don’t answer calls,” she digs at you and your brother, immediately inciting coughs because you two, in fact, are guilty of worrying over your mom too much. “I’m going on this worldwide trip with Yoongi’s mom,” she grins, pulling out one last surprise. “We’ve talked about it since we were young. She’s earned her stripes working abroad, I managed to raise two amazing children as a single mom. We’ve earned it, I think.”

You and Namjoon share a glance once again, this time more definite than the last. You’ve made up already as far as your mom could tell, and that confirmation is what she needs before finally selling the house you all grew up in.

“You’ve earned it more than anyone.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi’s packing up for their flight tonight when you go into your room to pack up the life you’ve lived there.

“You’re coming with me and Haneul?” Yoongi jokes when he sees you pulling out your own luggage, the tone of his voice highly suggesting for you to become serious. He gets you to smile and that’s big enough of a win as is, the remainder of it more than substantial to hold onto when he’s away from you. Again.

“No, unfortunately. I’m packing up the room and eventually… the whole house,” you answer with a chuckle, voice trailing off when you see the crestfallen look on Yoongi’s face. He looks like someone who’s just absorbed the largest pain to man as he’s trying not to make it obvious. “We’re posting it for sale two weeks from now.”

Yoongi nods tightly, inhaling sharply as he tries to maintain his steady tone. “Then why are you packing up already?”

You could do this tomorrow. As a matter of fact, you could do it tonight because you don’t have to drive them to the airport. You have all the time in the world within two weeks to do this, yet you go into your room now when Yoongi’s still in it.

When Yoongi still hasn’t left, and neither of you know when you’re gonna see each other next.

“I have to get a move on. If I don’t move now,” you trail, voice close to trembling as you open cabinets you’ve never even given the time of day before. “I’m scared that I’ll keep holding onto this house.

Yoongi nods, even if he fully understands — even if he doesn’t want to swallow what you’re saying.

“You want out?”

“We want out — me, mom, Namjoon,” you explain, looking at him properly for the first time since he told you that he loved you. “For the longest time, we’ve held onto this place because we became this house at one point. Namjoon’s this world star, my mom’s traveling the world with your mom-…”

“Oh, they’re finally doing it?” Yoongi interrupts, a smile finally coming to his face at the news. He hasn’t talked to his mom in a month from how busy he’s been, and although he’s always missed her (even if they’re on much better terms than he and his dad could be), he’s happy knowing that your moms have each other atleast. “How about you? What will you be doing?”

“I’ll just be… living day-to-day. I’m not doing anything extremely special, but I’m happy and busy doing it,” you laugh, looking around your room that hasn’t appeared this clean, this warm, since you last stayed in it. “No one’s going to be around here anymore.”

As if on cue, Haneul runs to Yoongi’s arms to be picked up. He knows what the luggages mean and because he’s largely in denial that they have to leave later (as referenced by him crying to your mom and Namjoon), Haneul keeps pretending to sleep so that their trip gets delayed.

Yoongi’s about to put him on your bed even if he knows his son’s antics already, but in the fear that he’ll actually get to sleep and they don’t get to leave (which he isn’t opposed to at all), he keeps him in his arms.

You, on the other hand, take Haneul from him when his arms outstretch for you.

There’s the sentiment of you not having to do it that’s resting at the tip of Yoongi’s tongue but he holds himself back, the image of you and Haneul completely fitting one another, he wants to burn a copy of it to his retinas and designate it to be the last thing he’ll see if he ever goes blind.

Without putting Haneul to sleep on your bed, he goes to sleep in peace in your arms.

“Do you regret it?” Yoongi asks throughout the silence between you, sitting next to you at the edge of your bed. “Do you regret ever liking me?”

“I do,” you answer truthfully, rubbing circles at the Haneul’s back. “I regret knowing you.”

Yoongi takes the responsibility fully, even fuller than the way both your hurt and happiness could make or break him.

“I can’t take back all the hurt I’ve caused you,” he admits just as honestly, turning to look at you. He becomes surprised to learn that you’ve been looking at him the whole time. “But what I can promise you is that I’ll never do anything to hurt you again.”

“I have my share of faults too.”

“Eh. Mostly mine.”

“Mostly yours, yeah,” you laugh easily, nodding to yourself as you continue. “But I held onto you as much as you didn’t hold onto me. That’s my mistake.”

Yoongi stays silent at that, not because he agrees, but because the bias that you’ll never be wrong in his eyes overtakes your humbleness.

“Do you think he’ll remember the entirety of the trip?” you ask, gesturing to Haneul who’s already sleeping like a hibernating bear in your hold. “Or will Haneul just remember that time the power went out because he cried a lot?”

“Oh, he’ll remember everything alright. He’s good with retention and people in general,” Yoongi waves you off. “Even if he didn’t come along the trip— even if we didn’t crash the whole thing, Haneul would remember you.”

“Who am I to him?” you ask in curiosity, lips turning into a straight line before they curve in the slightest. “Appa’s friend, I bet.”

“Not really. You’re a lot of things to me,” Yoongi chuckles, looking at the way Haneul grips you as if you’ll float away if he lets go; he’d do the same too. “More like my first love.”

Yoongi loves you quietly.

He loves you quietly with the way he draws the curtains downstairs when you sleep on the couch, tired and stressed over a solution you couldn’t understand. He loves you with the way he’ll scoop the warmest, freshest, least-burnt portion of rice to your bowl without you even asking for it. He loves you with the way he’s willing to let you walk all over him.

He loves you quietly in the way that not even distance nor time could disrupt him.

Yoongi loves you quietly, it might have been too much.

“Is that a lottery ticket?” he asks suddenly as he spots the familiar face of it inside your luggage, tucked into the discreet pocket where your mother’s letters of encouragement when you went to the big city were also kept

“Oh, it’s still there,” you answer, in surprise yourself because even if this is the same luggage you use whenever you go out of the country with Jungkook, you’ve never noticed that it was still there. “I bought it when you left for the US.”

Yoongi stops in his tracks in retrieving the scratch ticket from the pocket, looking up at you in curiosity. “Why did you buy one that day?”

Haneul stirs in his sleep in your arms, waking up right at the middle of you and Yoongi being lost in each other. He mistakes the silence as a signal that they’ll be leaving already, making a mess of himself as he quickly goes down the stairs to look for your family there and cling to them instead.

You and Yoongi are alone again.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, grasping the scratch ticket you used to spend hours looking. “I guess I just needed some proof that fate was against me that day.”

“But how would you even know that?” Yoongi asks, pointing to the card that’s still covered. “You didn’t even scratch it.”

You answer honestly, the reason burnt to the back of his mind.

“Because I knew I would lose my mind if I actually lost.”

“Try,” Yoongi swallows, nudging the ticket closer to you with a gaze that mirrored yours when he left. “Try again. Please.”

You have nothing else to lose.

Yoongi isn’t yours to lose.

You retrieve the same old coin Yoongi gave to you on the same day that he bought you your first scratch ticket, the appearance of it from your luggage making his heart skip a beat.

He doesn’t speak and neither do you, gaze only fixed on the way you scratch the card almost hesitantly, as if you’re still scared of the results of something that you should’ve known five years ago. (Read: you still are.)

When you get to the last digit, you freeze. You comb through the pattern over and over again, yet you still can’t believe it.

You’ve won the highest possible prize.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” you parrot Yoongi, looking up at him as he can’t believe it either.

“You won.”

“I won,” you repeat, running a hand through your hair. You actually laugh, the lump in your throat subsiding. It’s a welcome, albeit loaded, feeling of happiness that comes in between the two of you. “I thought I would lose,” you mutter bitterly, shaking your head.

You didn’t lose. Fate wasn’t against you that day, and yet you still lost yourself thinking subconsciously what the proof of it would’ve been.

“Who would’ve thought, right?” you sigh, eyes drifting to Yoongi. “If only I took that chance years ago, I would’ve won.”

Yoongi smiles tightly, breath faltering in recollection.

“I’m familiar with the feeling,”

Yoongi doesn’t get to finish packing for him and Haneul and neither do you with your whole room, the shift in the atmosphere suddenly making him stand.

He’s breathless and he doesn’t know what for, the rapid beating of his chest making his voice louder than necessary. “Hey, what do you say you take a break? I’ll pack up your room. I have to stay alert anyway for Haneul."

You thank him before leaving him alone in your room.

Yoongi can’t find the strength in him to pack. The only power he has left in him is for him to think of taking everything out from his luggages, the thought of leaving again, this time worlds different than the last when you were begging him not to — he feels like throwing up.

Yoongi’s merely an amalgamation of you. He’s only a compilation of your every word, every feeling you’ve implanted in his heart. He’s filled with nothing but your every triumph and shortcoming; every late night hanging out with you as you attempt to study while he keeps you company, every minute he spent going out of his mind trying to look for you when you ran away from home.

Yoongi loves you silently to the point that he gets out of your room without accomplishing a single thing he said he’ll do just awhile ago.

In the grand scheme of things, Yoongi realizes that he was wrong. He was as wrong as you were right that the moment he leaves home, he’ll spend the rest of his life looking for it.

Even if you left your home like he did, even if neither of you could come home anymore the moment your childhood house gets sold, Yoongi would still search for it. He’ll still search for you. You’re no longer where you were, but you are everywhere that Yoongi is.

He looks for you in Namjoon’s room, to the dining table, and all the way outside, just to ask if he and Haneul could stay for dinner.

Yoongi finds you and Haneul eating sundaes on the pavement outside, with you on the ground and a scrap cardboard underneath Haneul so it wouldn’t be hot for him.

Fate hadn’t been against you five years ago. And even if he’s much too late, Yoongi could only pray that fate isn’t against him now.

He walks over to where you and Haneul are, grabbing another scrap of cardboard to put underneath you.

Yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.

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secretress · 4 months ago

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❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. 𝐒𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞.❞

What is your future spouse’s aesthetic?

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Pac Summary!

🍊Your future spouse's aesthetic.

🍊How they feel about it in the future or in the present moment.

Moodboard | Divider

Pile I

Your future spouse's aesthetic.

As I was shuffling, nothing came out. So I went with the assumption; perhaps they are lost with who they are. They are trying different aesthetics and seeing what makes them happy. I believe having a title like an aesthetic can bring us down if we don’t know what makes us happy, and that is the same with your fs. They are struggling to see what fits their standards of aesthetics.

Reversed nine of wands.

The reversed nine of wands confirms my thoughts. Right now, they are struggling with everything. They remind me of the tower tarot card. This is seen as something negative, but I see it as a breakthrough in life. Because if there isn't a negative situation, then you can never become uncomfortable or grow from the experience. You need those negative emotions for growth even if it’s sabotaging yourself. You become self aware throughout and teach yourself to not be your own enemy. I’m still feeling hopeless energy with your fs. So right now, the aesthetic is baggy clothes. They are struggling to become comfortable with their skin and what they like. They have tried fancy and luxurious suits. They have tried the swag or baddie aesthetic. They have tried sexy dresses, etc. They keep going for materialistic outfits, and intuition says you will meet them in a month or two and help guide them out of that hell hole. So when you do meet, I see them going for a flowy or relaxing aesthetic. It reminds me of a bit of boho and a soft aesthetic. And those who are into men, I see them actually painting their nails. Now, I've seen people associate nail polish on men with the LGBTQ+ community, alternative/emo/punk, etc., but no. Nail polish is about expressing yourself like makeup; the same goes here.

How does their aesthetic make them feel in the future?

I kept shuffling the cards, but wasn’t able to get anything. Then I realized they wouldn’t feel much about it. I don't see them caring about how other people perceive them because of you. You were able to guide and heal them in a positive manner that made them realize they don't have to try so hard to impress others and that impressing themselves is more important. And you also taught them that materialistic aspects won't last in the long run; appreciating the small things you have in life is important. Beautiful life lessons; thank you for sharing those with them and elevating them into someone they love. So there isn’t a feeling here, but more of a thank you note from them to you.

‘’Thank you for showing me something that I thought was lost. Thank you for being there for me when I struggled and put money, charm, and looks on a pedestal. It was because of you that I realized that those weren’t important. What matters is the inside of us, our soul, and how we actually do things for other people. Without you, I wouldn't be able to understand who I was—I wouldn't be self-aware of the flaws I had, nor would I understand the struggles I put you in when I was so self-absorbed in the fashion world. Forgetting how toxic the industry has been. So thank you for being by my side and allowing my wings to flutter open as I escaped hell and finally met you in heaven. In our heaven.’’

Masterlist.

Pile II

Your future spouse's aesthetic.

I was seeing a dark, winter night. The wind is flowing around the dead but beautiful trees. Beautiful white snow is raining down from the clouds, and there is a haunted house. Well, that is how the rumors spread, but in that house was a single father with his sweet daughter, trying hard to survive in the winter. Though it was hard to survive time to time with rumors being spread, people coming to throw hate, and such, the only thing that helped them cope was the love they had together. Before, I check what the card is. Intuitively though, they give me the aesthetic of gloomy winter. That softness that comes from the winter days, the excitement that comes out when it’s winter break, and when you want to go to the fireplace and have a nice cup of hot chocolate while being sneaky and adding marshmallows for yourself. The darker days of the winter as the moon glistens over a river. Or when the days become cold you must isolated from your friends. This is what your future spouse’s aesthetic. It’s complex but that’s the beauty of it. They allow people to spread false judgments while they express what they love, their aesthetic. They portray softness while appearing rough, a contradiction that works beautifully like dead trees allowing the snow to pile on top of it. Eventually the tree grows back and blossoms once more. That’s the irony of your fs.

Reversed four of wands.

A smile appeared on my face because the energy matched. Even though it is reversed, it’s a siren (bird form) on an apple tree, as weapons, i believe arrows, are pointing at her and targeting her. Do you see the resemblance? The weapons are the rumors. The siren are the people in the house, or in this case, your fs’s house. And the apples are the love shared with the family. The tree is what your fs holding their family together. Their family has accepted what your fs change in their traditions/culture which has made them happy. Thus causing them being comfortable with themselves and wearing the aesthetic they like despite it being frowned upon. I am getting a conservative family with them, but the family was able to heal because your fs took the stand and changed their views. I heard the family had no idea of the pressure given to their children before everything went down.

How does their aesthetic make them feel in the future?

The first word that popped up in my head was refreshing. The biggest weight came off their shoulders; it will be so rewarding. Everything they wanted has already come their way, and to top it off, you will be their last reward. Their wishes are coming and you are the last wish. They are manifesting for someone like you; you are their dream person, and the thought of being with someone like you makes them go nuts. Think of the craziest TV show character you know and amplify it by 3-5 times. That’s the excitement I feel with them, but with a healthy mindset. It’s just something they have been dreaming about for so long, since their childhood or teenage years.

Reversed seven of wands.

Yeah, so with the reversed seven of wands, this is about a turning point that will lead to a positive situation occurring in someone’s life. And you are their positive aspect. If they didn’t stand up for what they believed in and speak with such vulnerability and power, then you guys wouldn’t be meeting in three to four months. Everything would’ve been delayed. And as I channeled this, I kept hearing soulmates. I know all (other than the 3-4% who believes it) of you don’t believe it, but that’s what I am hearing. So if it’s not soulmates for you, then it’s a relationship that is meant to be.

Masterlist.

Pile III

Your future spouse's aesthetic.

Two of wands.

Your future spouse’s aesthetic is daring. They like to try new things, always getting out of their comfort zone. Sometimes, they enjoy pissing other people off because they live in a traditional area. Wearing something that is provocative or very showy bothers the people around them, but for them, it’s similar to adrenaline. I see someone riding on a skateboard wearing ripped jeans, showing their bruised knee. A grin is on their face as they are wearing a crop top, accentuating their curves and body. People look at them with disgust, but all they can see is their reactions. People record them to make fun of them and yet, they do not care. This is your future spouse’s energy. They genuinely don't care what other people think of them unless it comes to you.

Their fashion is fun and bold. It makes you think about them as they stay on your mind. In terms of aesthetic names, I get punk and emo vibes and lots of tattoos or piercings. Someone has vampire teeth, or they add them in. For some, your fs loves wearing spiky boots or making their ponytail in a spiky motion. Others, think of alternatives mixed with cyberpunk. Very wild and bright colors too. They know what they want when it comes to life and their fashion taste, and they are very straightforward about what they dislike too. So when there is a communication issue, they will be upfront about it and you both can resolve it quickly.

How does their aesthetic make them feel?

Ten of pentacles and queen of wands.

Honestly, they feel blessed that they are wearing what they love. When you live in a traditional area, it’s hard to wear the outfits or do the things you enjoy, but they were able to push past their fears and become confident. Their outlook on life changed drastically, and they became comfortable with their real selves. They also feel thankful for how you will accept their fashion. They felt hesitant around you because they assumed you wouldn’t like their fashion style.

Masterlist.

Pile IV

Your future spouse's aesthetic.

When I was shuffling your cards, a card flipped by itself, and then it became lost. At first, your future spouse kept changing their aesthetics constantly. They didn't know what looked best with their facial structures. They have a mother who is into cosmetics, so they know how to work well with fashion, but the idea of being perfect has affected their mindset. ‘’Perfectionism is my downfall; I know that, but I am working on it.’’

Reversed strength and reversed the high priestess.

Their mother has always been strict with them. Always putting their imperfections on their child because they couldn't handle their insecurities. So your fs has absorbed what they said onto them, thus causing them to become a perfectionist. The high priestess reversed is focused on trust issues and a lack of personal harmony. Their mother pressure has caused a strain in their relationship, and the amount of projection has made your fs doubt their fashion style. That is why the card disappeared and became lost. That is their energy right now. Their aesthetic is kind of like piratecore mixed with richness. It’s very attractive and will make you feel flush. I see them wearing a corset tank top with a white blouse top, showing their breasts slightly, or they will show their chest and torso in a laid-back way. They will have black pants that are tight to accentuate their body and to match their eyes. They will wear a black steampunk or some type of long jacket with buttons resembling a pirate’s captain. It’s going to fit very nicely. They will leave their hair loose to create that effect. And I am also seeing that sometimes they will switch it and wear a suit while still allowing their chest to show. I'm getting a strong nonbinary aesthetic too. They don't focus on what is feminine or masculine; whatever appeals to them and makes them look attractive in their eyes is what matters.

How does their aesthetic make them?

Reversed six of wands and the empress.

There is already a huge cliff between their mother, and their fashion focused on piratecore and rich/luxury has drifted them a bit. Their mother isn’t noticing their hard work to find what they like; they are supposed to be into only classy outfits. Everything must be hidden and modest, and they break that. So that has pissed off their mother. The six of wands reversed is about a temporary setback and a lack of recognition for achievements. In the future though, I don't see much of a difference between them so meeting their mother isn’t a likely occurrence. On the bright side, they love their aesthetic, which makes them love themselves more. They are able to rebel against their mother and find comfort in this. The amount of changing things up to fit their mother’s standards killed a part of them, and to be able to gain it back and become resilient is something they are thankful for. They have a strong connection with themselves, and it makes them want to learn how to make their own clothes or design them. But no, this is a hobby and not their major or what they want to have as a career in the future. I also hear that they find themselves to be beautiful now, and a huge weight is off their shoulder. In a way, they are their own mother now (accepting their feminine side and taking care of their inner child), and when you meet, they will prorate a nurturing and mother-like nature. Tranquility is what appeared in my mind; you will feel peaceful around them. A true gemstone amongst the fake ones.

Masterlist.

291 notes · View notes

ctrlchar · 9 months ago

Note

Wssssppp

hope ur having a fine morning/evening or whatever time it is for ya

can I get some Jake Webber x reader cuddle headcanons? I barley see fluff of him lol

and can you make it gender neutral pls :)

thanks!!

jake x cuddling headcannons

a/n: tyty, I hope you have a good day/ night and thank you for the request!! this one’s so cute i love it

his favorite position to cuddle in is any position where he gets to be the bigger spoon fs

he likes to wrap his arms around your waist and just hold onto you

if the two of you are sitting up however he likes to lay in between your legs

he thinks you’re thighs are just so soft and comfortable so he loves resting his head on them

especially if you have nails but he loves the feeling of someone’s fingers rubbing against his head,playing with his hair

if you play video games he’ll be content just laying in your lap and watching you play whatever game it is you’re playing

whenever you cook something for him weather it be dinner or something else he’ll come up behind you and hug you from behind

you felt his large hands against your hips as you continued to cook your and his food. you smiled softly as he rested his head on your shoulder,his hands now wrapped around your waist. “how much longer is it gonna be till foods ready” he’d say with a whiney voice to which you giggle “soon enough” before putting a fork up to his lips that has the food you were cooking to which he ate.

he will always hold your hand,no matter what you’re going or where you’re going he loves feeling his hands intertwined with yours

he also likes to put his hand on your thigh,usually whenever he’s driving or your sitting down together but either way he adores your thighs no matter how big or how small

on the rare occasion jake is awake before you,he will usually wake you up by peppering little kisses on your shoulder

he will get his extra 5 minutes

he will beg and beg you stop stay with him a little longer before you get up and you always do because how could you resist him when he’s holding onto you telling you how much he loves you

“pleaseeeee” jake begged,his arms wrapped around your waist. “just a couple minutes” he’d say his voice trailing off as he rests his head back onto his pillow. your hands rested ontop of his which were on your waist as the two of you laid together

#jake webber #jake webber headcannons #jake and johnnie #jake webber drabble #jake webber fluff #jake webber x reader #jake webber smut #johnnie guilbert headcannons #johnnie guilbert smut #jake webber imagine #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x reader #sam goldbach x reader #sam golbach smut #colby x reader #colby brock smut #colby brock

393 notes · View notes

qraceiuv · 1 year ago

Text

open arms. jude bellingham.

summary — jude bellingham x arnold!reader | fans notice you've joined your brother trent and his friends on vacation, and can't help but suspect a relationship between you and jude

note — barely looked over this, its honestly horrible. but honestly might even do a pt 2 for fun

warnings — nothing i can think of fs

_________________________________________

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: vacay captures🌴☀️🩵

—

username: MY QUEEN HAS POSTED

username: 6th slide is me

username: JUDE? I SEE JUDE

— username: me every second of the day

username: omg she joined trent and them w her friend thats cutee😭

username: the jude pic helloooo

username: idk why but her posting a pic w just jude in her post calls out to me

— username: it is not as deep as u think it is

username: NOT YALL SAYING SHES W JUDE GOODBYEEE yall funny

trentarnold66: the angle on me is horrible

— y/nsusername: maybe dont take up all the space where i was laying!🥰

— trentarnold66: YOU GOT UP.

yourfriend: 6 is a call for help btw!

username: the sibling banter in the comments is real

dominikszoboszlai: did your phone fall in

— y/nsusername: for the last time, no😒

— masonmount: it did

— y/nsusername: WHY R U EVEN HERE?

judebellingham: 🩵🩵🩵

— username: is that all u got

— username: lowk random

— username: yes king, give us nothing!

username: OKAYYY HIM COMMENTINGGG

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: nothing better than golden hour on the sand with my favorite person ☀️💛

—

username: face card hello

username: baby

username: yes girl, put that caption and dont show us who!!! how cute

username: and who is that maam??

username: jude

— username: now why would she be talking about her brother's best mate

username: yall its probs y/f/n or maybe trent obviously

username: girlie saw the jude allegations and said let me stir it up

trentarnold66: thats funny, cause your favorite person (me) has been at the hotel all night!

— y/nsusername: you think youre funny

— trentarnold66: yeah

yourfriend: my invite is?? where??

— y/nsusername: u always lose things

username: THEY CONFIRMED IT WASNT THEM SO WHO IS IT??

username: not trent, not y/f/n... call me delusional but...

username: jude needs to comment hello

judebellingham

judebellingham: ☀️

—

username: this mf.

username: WHO WHOOOO

username: THOSE ARE LITERALLY Y/N'S NAILS

username: Y/N JUST POSTED THOSE NEW NAILS ON HER STORY GOODBTEEE

username: HER FAV EMOJI THAT SHE USES 24 FUCKING 7

username: now ik dang well

username: when i was RIGHT?!

username: GUYS GUYS GUYS

trentarnold66: sad day

— username: OHMYGOD

username: no this is so unexpected

y/nsusername: ☀️😊

— username: THEY HAVE TO DTOP

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: challenge: find jude in every pic (except one) GO!! 😘 (since you all are so good at that😒) ((jk i love u and this is all hilarious!))

—

username: GET OUT

username: the caption shes so sweet😭

username: cutie pie

username: MY FAVES WTF?!

username: im gagging im

username: im flabbergasted BAD.

username: found him hahahaha (im ending jt)

username: TRENT WYA??

username: living the fanfic life rn tf

username: I CALLED IT

— username: RIGHT LIKE U GUYS CAN SUCK IT

judebellingham: im in none of these photos??

— y/nsusername: oh right! totally forgot about my brothers best friend in the photo dump!🤣

— username: THERES NO WAY😭

— trentarnold66: alright.

username: THEYRE SO MEANNN.

_________________________________________

#jude bellingham #fanfic #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude x reader #judebellingham #qraceiuv #jude bellingham fic #jude fic #jude bellingham smau #jude bellingham social media au #jude bellingham x fem!reader #football imagine #futbol imagine #soccer imagine

447 notes · View notes

jetblack4realz · 2 months ago

Text

lake days v - jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary - your relationship with jake evolves as you continue to spend time together on and off base. he's basically a part of your family, but neither of you have hopes to become part of his when you get stationed in california.

pt i , pt ii , pt iii , pt iv , pt vi

warnings - nah

a/n - i'm low key so excited for where this is going, it'll be fun to write fs

word count - 3.7k

______________________________________________________________

fall and winter had come and gone and as the spring warmed into summer, you and logan began to de-winterize your boat. jake, of course, tagged along for the adventure, trying to remember exactly what you were telling him about - from checking the engine and battery to cleaning the distributor, he was trying to catch it all. he hoped that next year he'd be able to do it with you and not bother logan with it.

"we should probably paint the bottom," you hummed to your brother as you inspected the cobalt. "it's been a while."

"i've got leila's dance recital, i can't do it today," logan answered.

"we can just do it," jake offered. "i can paint."

"well, we've got to sand it all off, check for rot and mold, prime, and then paint," you explained. he smiled at you, quirking a brow.

"darlin', i can paint," he said again. "that's the same old shit i had to do when i worked with my granddad." he turned his attention to your older brother. "we've got it, logan."

you were impressed with how little time it took jake to sand his half of the hull, the man crossing to your side to help finish up what you'd barely managed to complete. then, after wiping the dust and paint remains off, you took a quick look around for any rust or water leaks and continued with the paint.

jake wasn't lying - he could paint. he was quick and efficient and you were so glad he was the one helping you instead of logan. he was like you and couldn't seem to move fast at all when it came to painting. jake was done in only and hour and as you two let it dry, you laid out in the sun in your swimsuits, committed to getting a tan before the first boat ride in a few weeks.

"you've got paint on your arms," you told him with a laugh, leaning over to pick it off with your nails. he pulled away from you, whacking your hand away before doing it himself.

"your nails are sharp," he whined when you tried to help again, earning a laugh and an eyeroll from you.

"you're such a baby," you said, leaning back in your chair with his sunglasses perched on your nose. he smirked once he finally wiped the rest of the paint off and leaned over to you, pressing light kisses up your jaw and to your lips.

"do you really think that, darlin'?" he asked against your mouth, capturing your lips in his for a few brief moments before pulling away. you sat up quickly, looking at him with an unimpressed expression.

"really?" you asked.

"what? if you want more all you gotta do is say it," he told you, his smirk only growing with your irritation. you leaned closer to him, hand reaching up to grab his neck and pull him towards you, but he pulled away.

"jake," you whined, looking up at him over your sunglasses.

"what?" he asked, feigning innocence even though his grin gave him away. you scooted forwrad, hand still on his neck.

"just kiss me, you idiot," you muttered and his grin changed shape.

"whatever you say, sweetheart."

he kissed you more completely, pulling you closer to him as your lips locked repeatedly. his hands were resting carefully on your lower back, never moving anywhere they weren't supposed to. you appreciated that. except when he pulled you even closer, trying to maneuver you into his lap.

"jake," you breathed out, pulling away with a large breath as your hands caught his. "not now."

you two had talked about this several times and each time he respected your choice to stay abstinent. you'd always been careful with boyfriends in the past, only wanting to give yourself to your husband. call you old fashioned and call you a classic southern belle, a cheesy church girl, but you wanted to make it special, to make it count. and while you knew jake was special and you were extremely confident after dating him for nearly a year that he was the one - you couldn't be certain until there was a ring on your finger.

"i know," he hummed, pressing a short kiss to your lips. "i wasn't trying that."

"we're just both in swimsuits and outside," you laughed lightly. "i wouldn't want finn to decide now is the time to stop by."

"i know." he pressed another kiss to your lips. "we could always move inside if you want?"

he was grinning in a way that made you giggle and you kissed him again.

"how are we supposed to be tan if we're not tanning, jake?" you asked.

"i never said i needed to be tan, baby," he laughed. "that was all you."

you hesitated, glancing from your boyfriend to the door.

"i'll agree to go inside if we watch '50 first dates'," you said.

he sighed dramatically, droning on a, "fine."

"hey, you know you love adam sandler and drew barrymore as much as i do," you told him with a pointed finger as he pulled you up and to the door.

"i'll agree to adam sandler, but drew? not my kinda gal."

when he approached you about having lunch with his mom and sisters, you were over the moon.

"when?" you asked excitedly.

"apparently they're coming down for the weekend for molly's birthday," he answered. "staying in a hotel and all that. asked if we wanted to go on saturday."

"absolutely we do," you said, grinning. "jake, this is great! as much as you hate to admit it, i know you've missed them. and this way you don't have to see your dad, you just get to hang out with them."

"and they get to meet you," he said. "they're awfully excited about it. i haven't taken a girl home, well, ever."

"always the playboy, weren't you," you said with a laugh.

"until you went and made a man out of me," he answered, pressing a short kiss to your lips with a smile.

when you approached bj's bbq, you were a little nervous. jake squeezed your hand and shot you a winning smile before pulling you in and telling the hostess you were meeting others.

she led you to where the women were sitting, all smiling brightly at you as you approached.

you noticed that two of the four sisters were pregnant, leading you to smile softly. you slightly envied them. you and jake had talked about kids - you both loved them, but your jobs were too crazy to let that happen currently. you hoped that once you were married though, you would take a break and start a family.

"jake!" they cheered, standing to hug the man at your side. you let go of his hand to let him embrace them properly. the woman you assumed was his mother turned to you after greeting him, offering you a warm smile.

"you must be y/n," she said.

"that i am," you said with a nervous laugh.

"i'm dorothy, it's such a pleasure to meet you." she pulled you into a hug and you relaxed a bit, smiling as you pulled back.

"you too."

once you sat down, jake took the time to introduce each sister. the two that were pregnant were actually his twin little sisters, addison and annabelle, and the other two were georgia, who was darren's age, and molly, the sister just under jake and the birthday girl.

after you wished her a happy birthday, molly was quick to strike up conversation. "y/n, you have no idea how excited we are to meet you. jake's never been as head over heels as he is for you, let me tell you that."

the other girls chuckled in agreement.

"oh, you've talked about me?" you teased, shooting a look in jake's direction.

"more like raved," addison laughed. "he's obsessed with you."

"it's sweet," annabelle said.

you noticed how thick their accents were, even in comparison to yours and your family's. it made some sort of sense based on what jake had told you about living in a small town outside of odessa, working on the ranch from a young age, and being the first in his family to move out of texas in decades.

"we won't ask you how you met, he's already told us that. but tell us what y'all have been up to! how was the drive?" molly asked.

"it was good," you nodded. "we're not too far out, just live about a half hour away. highway's easy."

"oh, that's nice," dorothy nodded.

"and y'all? how was your drive?" you asked.

"enjoyable. just listened to music the whole way here, went a lot faster than you'd think," annabelle said.

"oh, i'm glad!" you said.

"hey, jake here said that your mom and i went to high school together. what was her maiden name? he couldn't recall," dorothy asked.

"hansen," you told her with a soft smile. "there's probably about a million of them up over there in upton."

"oh, yes! i know exactly who she is, then. and yes, there certainly are a lot of hansens out that way," she laughed. "they had to come over to our high school because of how small the towns were. your mother and i were on the cheer squad together. she was one of my bases and she was always the strongest girl on the team."

"sounds like her," you laughed lightly.

"always so kind too. we'll have to get together sometime soon," she said.

"jake says you've got a lot of brothers," addison said.

"any of 'em single?" georgia asked with a grin.

"actually yes," you laughed. "you're 18, right?"

"yes ma'am," georgia answered.

"well, then, i bet you and darren would get along quite nicely," you said with a chuckle.

"do not put those two together," jake said seriously. "we would have hell on our hands."

you all laughed, his grin rising as he squeezed your hand under the table.

you were certain they were all the sweetest girls you'd ever met and were sad when the time came for you all to split up - they had concert tickets to jon pardi.

having not grown up with sisters, you tended to cling to girls you met, which is why you were so close with your sister-in-laws. and why you presumed you'd become close with jake's sisters too. it made you real excited.

"it's a perfect trade, ain't it?" you said, climbing into the f-150 passenger side. even though it was yours, it always felt more like jake's. and anyways, he loved to drive it at all times and you hated driving in the city, so you let him. "i have brothers for you and you have sisters for me."

"perfect," he agreed with a smile.

it was a few weeks later that jake got his orders.

"north island?" you asked with wide eyes.

"they just told me," he sighed.

you both had been deployed twice individually, you gone for over a month on the uss intrepid over christmas and jake leaving the same week you got back to help out the atlantic fleet in virginia for a few weeks. over valentine's day he was gone again and you were absent for two weeks in april to fly a mission you weren't expecting to ever have to fly - one with bogies and orders you weren't even allowed to tell jake. you both came back each time, returning to texas with new mission orders and flying together again. but, this was different.

"top gun? you're going back to top gun?" you asked.

"and it could be my new station for who knows how long. jacobsen is considering transferring me to the pacific fleet."

"what?" you gasped, looking at him with knitted brows. you were still in your flight suit, jake having ran to catch you before you went into the locker rooms. "but then you'll be gone. i mean, we got lucky that we both got transferred to texas, but there's no way in hell that we'd be lucky enough to both get traded to a complete opposite fleet, i mean-"

"y/n," he said, grabbing your shoulders with a small smile. "it'll be okay."

"how can you say that?" you asked, brows furrowing deeper. "how can you know?"

"because he needs to talk to you too."

when you announced to your family on sunday night dinner that you wouldn't be able to attend your annual summer kick-off boat day because of a change in orders.

"where are you going?" logan asked, chewing on some apple pie alice had made.

"north island," you answered with a small smile.

"that's nice," your mom said, returning your smile. "back to home base."

"well, technically this is home base," you said, gesturing to the dining room around you. "but, yeah, my base of origin. i like north island. it'll be good."

"and it's not just that," jake said. "we're heading to top gun."

"top gun?" your dad asked, grinning widely. "what the hell are y'all gonna do at top gun again?"

"dunno," jake shrugged with a short laugh. "obviously something important."

"the odds that you both would get called back. i mean, you've already had two deployments together, why not three?" darren chuckled.

you didn't notice the way brynlee and kyrie looked at each other, or how jake kicked darren's leg under the table. why would you?

"yeah, i don't know," you hummed. "i'd say they like us working together, but we've been off on missions by ourselves since we first got put together. i really don't see why they'd do that again."

"they need us," jake offered with a shrug. "for whatever this is that we're doing."

the dinner wrapped up when everleigh fell asleep on her mother's lap. you said goodbye to everybody, promising to see them before you and jake packed up and left the following week.

you walked back to your place, jake holding his hand in yours as a comfortable silence filled the air.

"let's go this way," he told you, pulling you gently towards a small section of trees behind your toy garage.

"what? why?" you asked with a small laugh.

"just trust me," he said, shooting you his oh so charming grin and a wink.

he pulled you the rest of the way to where you knew the grove was, a smile on his lips the whole way. when you passed the garage and approached closer, you began to see a few lights. your heart jumped, thoughts running a million miles an hour through your mind as a grin pulled at your lips.

"jake?"

"shh."

he was smiling widely at you and sped up his steps. you were finally able to see a few strands of twinkle lights strung between the trees, pictures of you and him clipped onto them.

you on the boat, quadding, at the bar, on the tarmac, at the zoo with finn, on his 31st birthday, in your white suits, in your flight suits, at the alamo, on the couch, riding horses, on a tornado chase gideon had convinced you to one weekend, and a lot of selfies on the strip of stores you two frequented.

you looked at them with a wide smile, fingers brushing the edges. when you turned to comment to jake about how sweet his setup was, he was already kneeled down, a gentle smile on his lips.

you gasped, not out of surprise - it was easy to tell what his intentions were and you'd discussed it several times, but because you were so incredibly overwhelmed with excitement.

"y/n y/l/n," he started. "i love you more than i could tell you, more than i thought was ever possible, and love you more and more every day and every time i look at your gorgeous face. you are the only person i trust in the air and on the ground, the person who makes me feel alive every second i'm with you, and my best friend. you're my favorite person, my love, my life, and i want it to stay that way forever. will you marry me?"

"of course i will," you said, your smile the widest it could be as he grinned, slipping the gorgeous, simple diamond ring onto your finger. he stood quickly, taking you into his arms as you grabbed his face and pulled him towards you, kissing him sweetly. you couldn't help the smile that remained on your lips, but he didn't seem to mind.

you pulled away, breathless, kissing his lips again; shorter and softer, but somehow sweeter.

"i love you, jake seresin," you breathed out, looking into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes with a small smile. "the most."

that night you received a text from kyrie that led you to a shared google photos album. apparently, she and brynlee had followed you back and snuck a video and pictures of the whole ordeal.

you loved them for it.

the two of you looked so happy, so overwhelmingly joyous and somehow she had managed to catch the best moments. brynlee was an expert in videography, a skill none of you knew she had before, and had the best angle of him coming up to kiss you. it made your heart flutter the way that he pulled you close to him and giggle at how he had pumped his fist in the air in achievement.

a few moments later, another text came through.

'i'm happy to take some engagements for y'all before you leave next week. just let me know when!😘'

"who all knew?" you asked, tilting your head to look at jake laying next to you. he breathed a laugh.

"everyone. i had to pay finn in snickers not to tell you."

"how long have you been planning this?"

"picked out the ring a few months ago, just been waiting for it to be sized and altered for you. brynlee managed to get into your pinterest account and so i had several reference pictures as to how to get it exactly right."

"you mean it didn't come like this?" you asked, holding your hand up to get a good look at the ring. he hummed a 'no', fingers rising to trace along the band.

"these two little stones weren't there and the rock wasn't in a circle like this. and then i had to size it," he answered.

"you're so sweet," you mumbled with a smile, leaning up to give him a soft kiss. he smiled as he reciprocated.

"i do my best," he answered.

as you pulled apart, you furrowed your brows.

"wait, is this why i got assigned to top gun?" you asked. "why we got stationed together again?"

"no," he said. "but, it's why we'll only ever be stationed together again."

"you didn't ask him to put me on the mission?" you asked.

"no, i just about freaked out in asking him if you were on it though. it wasn't hard for him to figure out i was planning on proposing. i was gonna propose on the boat, but then he called me in and i got all flustered. but yeah, i already filed the paperwork for us to be kept together and if we go anywhere else we'll be in the married quarters."

"before i even said yes?" you laughed.

"oh, like you could say no to all this," he told you with a smirk, kissing you again before you pulled away laughing.

"you're too much, seresin," you said.

"hmm, i'll like that a lot more when it belongs to you too," he said.

"when are we thinkin'?" you asked, leaning back into his chest as he squeezed your side.

"after whatever the hell this mission in. preferably here in texas, but if we're stationed permanently in north island then i guess we could do it in california too. i don't wanna wait any longer than i have to to be married to you," he said.

"oh, you've thought about this a lot, haven't you?" you giggled.

"of course i have. this is our life, i want to start a life with you. a real one," he answered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"i want that too," you said. "have you told your family?"

"mhm," he hummed. "they're ecstatic."

"i'll probably make your sisters my bridesmaids. and the girls and phoenix of course."

"you told phoenix?" he asked.

"not yet. why?"

"none of 'em even know we're together," he said. "at least, not by me."

"nah, i haven't talked to any of them very much. coyote is more of your friend and phoenix has been deployed like eight different times. and well, why would i tell bradley?"

"you know how funny it'll be when we tell them?" he chuckled.

"what if we didn't? what if we just send them the invitations?" you laughed. he paused.

"that ain't a half bad idea, darlin'," he told you, grinning mischievously at the end. you laughed.

"yeah? you wanna play it cool, act like we ain't nothin' just to go back to the same bed every night?" you asked.

"well, we don't have marriage quarters yet," he said.

"that sucks," you grumbled.

"we just gotta get married earlier then," he answered, grinning down at you before pressing a kiss to the side of your temple. "that'll throw 'em off for sure."

"it would be funny," you mused, playing with the thought. "i dunno if i could keep it from phoenix though."

"i believe in you, baby," he said, a breathy laugh threading his tone.

"let's do it. just for fun," you agreed, nodding. "means you can't flirt with me, though."

"uh uh," he said with a shake of his head. "i flirted with you before. you just can't take me seriously."

"you make that damn hard, seresin," you told him, smiling as you leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw.

"and you make it damn hard to keep my hands off 'o you," he said, pulling you closer to him. he sighed, his breath tickling your cheek. "but, to see the look on rooster's face. you know he's got a crush on you, don't ya?"

"he does not!" you objected.

"oh sure he does. every man in the navy does," he laughed. he smirked at you, kissing you slowly. "but you're all mine."

"all yours."

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