#him again he’s calling the person he hated for nearly as long his closest bud I would kms

[hiddensneker]

I was watching nickels exit interview and the interviewer called balloon nickels closest bud and I’m just imagining how absolutely snuffed baseball got 😭

[scriptaed]

cherry blossom avenue.

❀ genre: angst/fluff; arranged marriage!au; f2l!au;

❀ pairing: jin x reader; 

❀ length: 23.0k;

❀ synopsis: college would’ve been unbearable if it weren’t for your wallowing sessions with your best friend jin over a shared “forever alone” woe, so it really was only a matter of time until the two of you sealed a shoddy promise to betroth the other at the age of 27. perhaps it was only a silly joke to you then, but you should’ve known better nonetheless; because when a wedding invitation arrives five years later down the road with his name signed next to another’s, feelings that were once buried begin to blossom once again.

“Don’t be a homewrecker.”

What was supposed to be a light-hearted tease over your fleeting glimpses in his direction bears much more weight than even reality should have; and unbeknownst to her, even if your friend’s commentary strikes a fear in you, a fear that has some creature eating away at you and a horrifying drop in the twisted pain of your chest, the daunting knowledge of a potential truth behind her words pale in comparison to the anguish brought upon by a familiar face of the past. 

Because even as you stand far and hidden behind the crowd of overly dressed classmates and unacquainted businessmen all painted by a silhouette of dimmed black, you manage to observe him through the few albeit sure opportunities; for when the passersby chatter, cross, and weave through the lavish ballroom floor at the perfect time, place, and space for you to peep through the pinholes seemingly formed by pure happenstance or a cruel wish casted upon by fate, the clock returns to a buried state of mind.  

It’s a state of mind seven years stale, mistakenly manifested and deliberately buried. It’s a transition in mindsets when fondness sours into a longing for something that could never be, for his reciprocation of affections means much less than its origins. It’s a heavy moment when you’re finally sure he would never come to speak the language of your enamored being. It’s that fractured frame in time when everyone freezes in their tracks but a reverberating pain transcends the laws of the universe, almost as if on a personal quest to oust you; and even if you vehemently down yourself with another magical shot of liquor, nothing can quite ease the internal war stirring within.

One hand grasping a glass of red wine worth much more than a month of your salary and one arm crossed under the bosom draped over by your only presentable black satin slip dress, you’re almost numb to the turmoil that is irony. How cruel is it that even after seven years of having believed you had moved on, nothing has really changed after all? Your heart still melts in the wake of his dorky grin, your chest still winces over the buried buds of a coveted love, and your blood still runs intoxicated by the presumption that this phase of infatuation would pass with time. 

Your friendship, your feelings, your shared promise, a youth that no one had paid witness to except for you, him, and that cherry blossom tree down that street, nothing has really changed. In fact, you feel as though you could still march across this room and nonchalantly probe at your best friend’s cheek with the ultimate goal of eliciting a shriek from your best friend. 

And yet, the circumstances that have brought you back to him in this very room must have been the one cruel exception. 

“A ‘homewrecker?’” you feign a light-hearted chuckle, swirling your drink and taking another sip as you peek at the distorted glass-image of the man and the woman beside him. “And why would you say something as horrifying as that?”

“Didn’t you say you and, what’s his name,” Alex pauses before nearly gasping, “ah, Seokjin! Didn’t you say you two used to be best friends in college? You might have been his best friend but she’s his fiance now, Y/N! Plus, she’s got a baby in her, too.” 

She might have been joking, and it really should have been if you had been truthful about your feelings for said best friend, but maybe this is the price you’re paying for so dutifully holding onto your dignity; so, instead, the deep undercut of her remark instigates a stirring irritation within you. Raising a questioning brow at your friend is all you can muster without spilling your secret as well as your brewing storm. 

“Oh, so you actually do remember what I say when you’re only a minute from blacking out?” 

“Hey,” your friend recognizes the anger seeping through your body language, stifling a giggle as she tries to bump your elbow and stumbles over her heels, “it was a joke, okay? I’m just looking out for my friend!”

“Right, what is there to even look out for?” 

“Well,” she points a finger at the direction you had just been staring off into a minute prior and leans in to whisper, “you’ve been staring at the newly engaged man for much longer than the woman beside him, if that says anything—”

“—uhuh, as if, hey!” you almost yelp as you help her stand upright once again. A scoff of disbelief escapes your lips over the sight of your friend letting herself go. Grabbing her glass and swiftly placing it onto the tray of the many passing waiters, you squish her cheeks and give her a light pat or two. “The only person you need to worry about is yourself. Why are you even wearing those ungodly stilettos when you can’t even wear kitten heels without whining all day at work?”

“Hey,” Alex pouts, bending one knee and jutting her hips to show off those torturous pink devices on her feet. “I told you about my ex from high school, don’t you remember?”

“So it’s okay if you’re trying to impress an ex from high school, but I’m not even allowed to glance at my old best friend?” you quip, pressing your lips into a thin line as you take another gander at your friend up and down. “And what does excessive drinking even have anything to do with it?” 

She flashes you a mischievous grin, “for confidence.”

“I can’t with you,” the roll of your eyes must have agreed, “and what about the classmate friend who actually invited you to her engagement party?”

“Oh,” Alex glances at the woman beside Jin and shrugs, “she’s alright. She’s that typical good girl. Too smart, too kind, too good at everything that you really want to hate her but have no reason to do so. I’m sorry, Y/N, but your best friend is devilishly handsome and I’m not surprised she’s marrying someone of her league.” 

“Pfft, why are you apologizing to me?” you scoff, ushering her to the washroom and shaking your head along with the stream of confusing emotions that hit you like a truck. “Go wake yourself up before she or, gasp, worse yet, your ex spots you.” 

“Oh my God, you’re right,” she gasps, shuffling in her skintight red bodycon dress and whirling around once more to call out before finally disappearing, “let me know if any boy comes looking for me!” 

“Uhuh, yeah, sure,” you shoo her away, taking another sip from your glass and muttering under your breath, “...how am I supposed to recognize your high school classmates?”

Now that your friend is gone and you’re left all alone to your thoughts, you go against your own advice and down another glass of liquor. 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Well, if Alex is a good judge of character, then at least a good man like your best friend has found an equally respectful woman. It might have hurt to hear her words, but Alex isn’t exactly wrong. At the very least, you could sigh in relief having known you’re genuinely happy for your best friend’s future. 

It’s just that the truth hurts sometimes. 

Relief isn’t an excuse for lingering onto a soon-to-be-married man, regardless of when these emotions came about. 

People are chattering all around you, strangers and former acquaintances are bustling about, familiar college classmates are greeting the bride-to-be’s high school classmates, and yet here you are: aloof and isolated even in a room of hundreds, fixated and more distant than you have ever been to the boy you had once cherished as the closest anyone could get to knowing the real you. 

No one would know but Jin. 

The real you.

The you who could not have moved on because she couldn’t recognize her own feelings until seven years down the road with a wedding invitation in hand, seven years after the buds had been sowed, seven years too late. 

The one who stands pathetically here in the corner of a room, secretly hoping for him to approach her but also wishing for the night to pass unnoticed just like she had wished for her buried affections to pass.  

So you shuffle in place awkwardly, pondering whether you should’ve caved into Alex’s pleas and attended this posh get-together, debating whether you should dip once your friend realizes her high school ex just isn’t worth it, sipping the remainder of opulent liquor and taking one last peek at the boy, when, your heart strikes loudly against your chest…

...because his eyes catch yours, a pair amongst hundreds, one invitee amidst an endless swarm of crowds, almost as if on a planned rendezvous, a secret unbeknownst to everyone in the room but the two of you.

Eyes widening in shock, the drums of your chest hammer against you, each strike pumping a nearly painful high that fuels your fight or flight mode. The debate between confronting your longtime friend and fleeing said friend did not even cross your mind at the start of the predicament. Quickly whirling around, head down and hands gripped to your drink, your feet move on its own. 

A familiar series of clicks echo against the polished marble tiles. You don’t even have to turn around to recognize those homecoming footsteps, those awe-inspiring confident strides as he makes his way across the room. If this were you from seven years ago, you would have welcomed him with open arms and he would have claimed you were just acting sweet to bargain for some fresh pastry, but the unfamiliarity of a stranger you have yet to reconcile with has you in an unexplainable panic. 

After all, it’s hard to explain why exactly his persistent pursuit after you, after seven years of distance, both emotional and physical, frustrates you to no ends. 

Your hands form fists, your feet storm down the halls, and your mind could repeat nothing but the words you had excused as “just a light-hearted joke.” 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Don’t be a homewrecker.

A baby in her.

A baby.

His fiance. 

A homewrecker.

The accusations echo and echo, as though screaming at you in the endless cave that is your mind, until the party fades, the crowd disappears, and the ear-piercing classical music wanes against the walls of your temporary solace, the bathroom. Finally, entrapped in a world of black—black tiles, wine colored walls, and dark red roses perched on top of what seems to be a black granite sink—you’re left alone to your thoughts. 

Alex wouldn’t understand a seven-year-long regret because she doesn’t know the real history between you and Jin. In fact, no one invited to this engagement party nor does anyone in this whole mansion know of the soon-to-be groom’s past. 

It isn’t as simple as people might make it out to be on the surface, because no one but you, Jin, and the street down your block had paid witness to a shoddy, spontaneous promise that should have never been made. 

Turning on the faucet and splashing a fresh handful of cold water onto your face, your eyes eventually wander from the stream of water that flows down the drain up along the glass bowl of a sink and into the mirror to meet the sullen eyes of a girl, seven years older with a stain of regret that spans much longer that a mere seven years. 

❀ ❀ ❀

“Waaah,” the boy exclaims as you watch your own reflection narrow its eyes at the image beside you. The spectacle persists to angle his chin every which way until he’s finally satisfied with the protrusion of his jawline; and as the boy resumes his daily activity of marveling at himself in awe, you have to wonder once again, for the hundredth time by now, just how you two had possibly become best friends. “Looking good, Jin. Looking real good.”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes and feign nausea, “narcissist.” 

Jin pauses in the midst of his inspection, allowing his phone to settle into his lap and turning to glance at you with his head as high—well, almost as high—as his ego. “When you look as good as this,” he gestures at himself and your eyes follow his crafty fingers up and down, “don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t be all up in yourself.”

You blink your eyes blankly and start with the most accusatory tone you could muster, “excuse you, Kim Seokjin, but are you saying that I don’t look good?” 

“You’re insisting that yourself, not me! It’s not my fault you can’t appreciate your God-given looks,” Jin raises his hands mercifully and you almost miss his latter, back-handed compliment when you become entranced by those double-jointed fingers of his. “Plus, I said ‘when you look as good as this.’”

“Psh, yeah,” you mumble, “and yet here you are, still as forever alone as ever.”

“Hey,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you even as he raises his phone to take yet another selfie, “and what does that say about you?”

“...and that’s exactly why,” you chirp as you hastily smush your cheek against his and throw a peace sign just as he snaps a photo, “we’re gonna be forever alone together!” 

“Hey, why’re you ruining my selfie—” he pauses in the middle of his camera roll “—oh, we actually look good.”

Glimpsing at one of many candid photos of you and him, a helpless smile spreads across your lips. A warm breeze blows and you can practically smell the impending spring that breathes life into the pink buds hovering on the cherry tree above you. The sun’s embrace against your bare legs that lie beside your best friend’s on the red and white checkered picnic is a perfect compliment to the equally bright phenomena that are his high-pitched giggles; and like the many days you’ve spent the past year, the only thing that could possibly elevate this moment of serenity would be a bite of his weekly pastry batches.  

Speaking as you chow down on the carbs, you quip, “you mean you look good?” 

“That, too, but I meant us, together—” he articulates, cutting himself off abruptly when he snaps his head to find you digging into one of his many bread “—hey, who said you could start testing without me?!” 

“Too many selfies, too slow, too hungry,” you lean your head back to plop the remainder of the custard-filled bread into your mouth, “shmorry Jin, but dish ish delicious.”

Just as you lean forward and take another large bite out of the batch, Jin catches right up to you, snatching the remainder and plopping it right into his now-stuffed cheeks instead. Lips falling agape at the disappearance of your bite-size donut, you gawk at your best friend whomst chomps happily away with your piece in his mouth. 

You can still recall the heat of your cheeks after the first time he had ever proclaimed something that was yours as his—in fact, it wasn’t much long ago when Jin had nearly regurgitated a mouthful of mocha frappuccino after discovering you had sneaked in a sip or two prior—but now? Sharing commodities has become such second nature to you two that sometimes you wish he could return to his germophobic days just so you can hog all the food…

...and maybe to relive whatever magical flutters that had befallen you on that very first day.

“Of coursh ish delicious!” he manages to exclaim incoherently. “Kim Sheokjin baked it afta all!” 

“Yeah,” you take a long moment to gulp and make room for more food, “I think I prefer the ones with custard—”

“—so it’s a perfect batch just like m—”

“—almost perfect.”

You could see yourself wink through the prideful glint in his eyes quickly plummet into a glare that has you laughing at the downfall of his indestructible ego. His playful glare through the corner of his narrowed eyes silently commences yet another one of your daily staring challenges. Maybe that’s why the two of you made such a perfect pair amongst the thousands of classmates at school. After all, how would Jin ever find someone as tolerant of his incessant dad jokes and perpetual ego as you are? And how would you ever find someone who would bake you goods and cook you lunch and, not to mention, spout such peculiar humor? 

All of your classmates had dubbed the two of you as the perfect comedy duo—the dumb and the dumber, the silly and the sillier—that, apparently, is the essence of a match made in heaven, albeit probably meant to be more platonically than romantically. 

Both too stubborn to lose, even in a meaningless game of a staring contest, not even the heat of the sun rays that has you two nearly sweating bullets could deter the match. Eventually, seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into a frenzy frozen moment in time as you start to fall into the sudden abyss you found yourself in that is the warmth pool of his eyes. 

Perhaps it’s the angle at which the rays strike theatrically on the apples of his cheeks, illuminating his dewy skin and enhancing the chocolate hues of his orbs hidden underneath the matching brown locks of his all whilst his eyes happen to be staring right back at you. You’ve never quite felt this way before—heart palpitating, throat constricting, and mind panicking—but for the first time ever, you’re hesitant in allowing your best friend to peer through the windows to your soul. 

This isn’t good. What would he do if he were to discover your frenzy? Would he tease you to no ends? 

Worse yet, would he falsely assume that you’re hardcore crushing on him…?

“Oh God,” you blurt out, breaking eye contact to avert your head to the side across the street. Your lips begin to mumble whatever comes first to mind, “uh, wow, look at that couple. Ugh, PDA—” your eyes flicker to find Jin raising a brow just before your eyes avert once again and he follows your line of sight “—am I right?” 

“Oh c’mon! Just admit it,” Jin chides. “You’re only using this to disguise the fact that you were just about to blink, weren’t you?” 

“I was not about to blink,” you insist but your shifty gaze tells the both of you otherwise, even if the true lack of confidence is unbeknownst to Jin. “You suck at staring contests. How many times have I won before? I was just distracted, okay?”

“Oh yeah?” Jin crosses his arms. “Distracted by what, then? Huuuh? By my devastatingly good looks?”

“No!” you exclaim almost too adamantly that you have to add in a nervous laugh at the end, which only has Jin staring at you in utter disbelief. Feigning an apologetic pressed smile, you gesture your hands in the direction of the couple supposedly hidden behind a fence but clearly exposed to those on a hill, otherwise known as you two. “I meant them—”

“—ew!”

The both of you exclaim in unison, selflessly covering the tarnished eyes of the other and ducking away from the moment of intimacy that you two had just intruded on. 

“Aw, cmon! Even after graduation, too?” Jin remarks, mouth gaping and hands falling from your shielded eyes only to be thrown to his side in bewilderment. “Does everyone really have to remind us just how lonely we are even on our last day?” 

“You mean how lonely we are and how lonely we will be for the rest of our lives?”

“For the rest of our lives?” Jin quirks a brow at you before shaking his head and shrugging. “Dang, that wasn’t exactly my plan, because the world will be forced to acknowledge my looks sooner or later, but I mean, in your case…”

“What?!” you gasp in disbelief, slapping his arm hard enough for him to wince. “What do you mean ‘in your case?’ I bet you haven’t even kissed someone yet!” 

Jin snarls at you as he pulls his arm back and retorts, “yeah? And I bet you haven’t either!” 

“Actually, I have, with Joon at that party last year,” you say smugly, crossing your arms with a chin held high, “and you just admitted you haven’t had your first kiss yet.”

“Psh, yeah, I haven’t, and?" the boy holds his head high akin to a child arguing with his body and not with his words. “Because I prefer to save it for something meaningful unlike someone here.” 

“Hey, are you insinuating that it wasn’t meaningful?”

“You’ve always told me how much you hated parties!” he throws his hands up. “Plus, you don’t even like Joon! You said his breath stinks!” 

“Well—” you pause but no words come to you except for a loud grunt “—ugh, fine. You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he turns away, leaning into his right hand with an elbow propped against his crisscrossed lap. “I’m Kim Seokjin, after all.” 

Following suit, you mumble into your propped hand, “I guess that’s why we’re friends in the first place. Together and, yet, still forever alone.”

“Hey, I said I don’t plan on being forever alone.”

“Right, right,” you brush him off, “tell me that when you actually get a girlfriend—actually, tell me that when you find someone to marry who doesn’t run for their life just one month into your relationship.” 

“‘Marry?!’” he gawks at your demand. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and you’re talking about marriage?!”

“What?” you turn to face him, cheek resting in hand. “Didn’t you say the world would soon recognize your charms?”

“Hmph, well,” he says with a jutted lower lip, “definitely sooner than you.”

“Really?” you gape at his bold proclamation despite clearly being the one with the upperhand. “You really think you’re gonna get married before me?” 

Your best friend doesn’t even bother glancing at you before answering, “bet.”

“Okay, if you win, then I’ll eat the crust to your breads whenever you want. I’ll even throw in a bonus for you and spare your wife from having to see fetus photos of you in college,” you can only snicker at the lightbulb that goes off in his widened eyes. “And if I win, then you’ll have to eat my crust and delete all the ugly photos you have of me on your phone.”

“Sorry, can’t do. That would take me an eterni—”

“—shut up.” 

“Okay, fine, bet,” he cackles, straightening his back and stretching his arms out before him, “and what if neither of us ever get married?”

“Hm,” you purse your lips, “good point. Should we set a time cap to our bet? Ideally, if I want to have a stable job and income by 25, have children by 30, enjoy two or three years of marriage without kids, then…”

“Why do you have to have children by 30?” Jin frowns. “Why set all these unrealistic standards on yourself?” 

Putting a finger to hush his lips, you almost find yourself distracted by the plush warmth against your skin. Quickly, you answer, “long story short: parents.”

“Ah,” he utters even as your fingers are pressed to his lips, “ditto.” 

“Let’s set the cap to 27,” you propose. “If neither of us get married by the age of 27, then we’ll just call off the bet. But damn—” the two of you simultaneously lean your chins into your palms “—that means we’re really gonna be a disappointment to our parents forever, huh?” 

A loud, heavy sigh escapes the both of you; and while you stay pouting into your hands, staring into the fresh green grass on the downside of the hill off in the distance, Jin props his hands back against the blanket and cranes his neck back to look off into the distant sky. You hadn’t noticed it until now, but for a devilishly dashing guy like Jin—broad shoulders, facial features that could only be gifted, and a prominent Adam’s apple, especially with his head rolled to the back like this—you have to admit his lonely status must have been much more of a choice to Jin than it is for you; because even for someone like you, his best friend who gets to stare at his profile for as long you desire in all its glory, you have yet to become desensitized to his dazzling visuals that is anything but normal.

As much as you hate to admit it, even now, with a clear blue sky, an array of warm pastry aroma, and a field of freshly cut grass, you can’t help but become enamored by the person before you. 

And when another sigh befalls his lips and the two of you have settled into a comfortable silence and a breeze passes by the both of you, rustling a dozen or so of the hovering cherry petals to grace the surrounding air, he speaks. 

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by then.” 

“...huh?”

“I said,” only his eyes move to peer down at you effortlessly, “if we both lose the bet, then let’s get married.”

Your eyes pop and you can only utter the few words that reach you, “to each other?” 

“No, to food,” he says sarcastically, grabbing a piece of his bread and stuffing your face with it when you continue to stare at him and he shuffles awkwardly in place. Looking away, he mumbles, “of course to each other, who else, dummy?”

“Uh….huh,” you blankly nod your head as a series of laughs are stifled by the bread. “Okay, and you’re being serious?”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “uhuh.”

“Pffft, and you’re saying you would keep that promise? That you would even remember this moment? We’re just gonna marry? Like that? And you’re assuming I’m just going to agree?”

“Hey,” he turns to frown at you, “why wouldn’t you agree? I’m offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

Munching down on the bread, you continue to play along in amusement, “really? And what exactly are you offering me? You know I have high standards, right? I’m not just going to accept any proposal.”

“I know. That’s why you’re still single…” the boy deadpans, even as you glare at his remark, “...but, that’ll all change when you witness my proposal! Hear me out. First, I’ll cook every meal for you for the entire day.”

“You almost already do that except for breakfast.”

“Okay, but I’ll hone my skills by then. It’ll be even better than any restaurant we’ve ever been to.”

You raise a brow, “so you think food is the way to my heart?”  

“No offence, but yes, that’s why we’re friends,” he quips before continuing, “second, I’ll bring flowers to you at work. Everyone at your job will be burning with jealousy!”

“Because of your public display of affection, which we both clearly disdain?” 

“No, because they would wonder how you have such a handsome boyfriend like me!” he wags his finger. “Plus, who doesn’t like a little PDA when they’re about to be proposed to?” 

“Okay, fair enough, but those are two promises you’re making for the proposal. A marriage is a lifelong commitment. Why would I want to marry you just for food and flowers?”

“Hmmm, even for someone like you, I’m surprised you have so many requirements,” Jin hums, tapping his finger on his chin. “How about this, I’ll make three more promises for our marriage.”

“Quit saying ‘our marriage,’ I keep shuddering at the thought of it,” you remark as you rub your arms. 

“Third promise, I won’t break your achey breaky heart,” he deliberately emphasizes each word in a fruitful attempt to send shivers down your spine. “Fourth promise, I’ll remember all of my promises.”

“Okay… and fifth?”

“I’ll keep all of my promises! And I’ll do it all right here at this spot. Our spot.”

“What? That’s dumb,” you giggle. “Just keep it at four, then.”

“No,” he grabs the bagel in your hands and fills his mouth without a second of hesitation, “ish eashier to wememba fibe promishesh.”

“Right, right, right,” you nod, pressing your lips in a vain attempt to muffle your chuckles. “And what promises would you want me to make?”

“You?” he quirks a brow before shaking his head. “Nothing. You’re fine. I like you just the way you are.”

Huh. Has Jin always been this nice? Because you don’t quite recall ever feeling the heat of an oncoming blush of your cheeks or the bashful flutters that come with your best friend’s witty remarks. Maybe the topic of marriage has thrown you off today or maybe it’s the aftermath of a high having just graduated college and being thrusted into adulthood, but the stretched smile that adorns your lips is an undeniable fact that your confidence and spontaneity has reached its pinnacle.

Grinning, you lean across Jin’s lap to grab and unlock his phone to access the camera, “okay, wanna take a photo to commemorate this moment?”

“Gee, if you want a photo of me that bad, you could just ask me to send you a selfie, y’know—what the,” Jin starts to cackle when you raise the phone into the air and suddenly press your cheeks against his without warning. With a side-finger gun to frame his cheeks and chin, your best friend readies his pose as you wear a mischievous smile. “Hurry up and take the picture already, Y/N. My time is money.” 

“Hey Jin,” you call out to him with your eyes still fixated to the phone screen, as does his. 

The boy almost drags his words, “now what?”

“You’ve never had a girl kiss you on the cheeks before either, right?”

“What—”

—click.

“There,” you chirp jubilantly, grinning at the stunned look on his face, his eyes popping and his lips just slightly parted but failing to utter a single word as his hand grazes the spot on his cheeks where your lips had just touched, “now you have zero excuses to forget our promise!”

❀ ❀ ❀

That must have been the last time you had met up with Jin in person. Shortly after graduation, the two of you had parted ways as many are forced to do in order to embark on their lives as full-fledged adults. Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Jin had been lucky enough to receive a job offer straight out of college with the help of family connections; although, even without his family name, you whole-heartedly believe he still would have managed on his own based off of his unparalleled work ethic that you had the chance to witness firsts-handedly. 

On the other hand, your parents had advised you to stay home, which happened to mean you would be stuck in the same town of your college, until you finally landed a decent job where you had met Alex and established a new life. Unfortunately, like life always does, all that busywork meant sacrificing contact with your best friend somewhere along the way.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

“Ah, shit,” you mutter under your breath as you stop in the midst of your tracks down the black-marbled hallway, gritting your teeth and composing yourself just as you’ve done countless times around your less than friendly colleagues. Taking a deep breath in and out, you put on a pleased smile and whirl around to find the face of a familiar boy in your most recent reveries. “Ahh, hey, Jin... It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Ah,” the man, who seems to have grown at least or three inches since you had last seen him, scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight… how have you been?”

This is awkward. So painfully awkward. 

“Me? Oh, I’ve been alright. Life. Adulting. You know the drill,” you press a thin smile. “Actually, I’m surprised to be seeing you here tonight. I still remember us whining all throughout college over being forever alone, and yet here we are… at your engagement party… life can be funny, huh?” 

“Y—” he stutters, scratching the back of his neck “—yeah… it can be.” 

“So,” you chirp in a fruitless attempt to lift the suffocating atmosphere, “the wedding is coming up pretty soon! Feeling good or is someone getting cold feet?” 

He shakes his head weakly, “I wear socks to sleep.” 

“Wh—” you pause for a quick second, blinking blankly at his soft chuckle and following suit shortly after “—why do your jokes sound like you’re 22 again?” 

The man shrugs with a helpless smile hinted in the corners of his lips; and when it happens—you don’t know how or when the silence had whisked you away into a past time—you find him gazing at you with that fondness of a sole friend who endlessly shared and fought informidable woes with you. Perhaps you’re a hopeless romantic frozen between the fork of two roads that have long closed, for you swear you can see your own reflection through his warm brown eyes and you surmise the only possible answer to the question that lingers in your mind. 

He must see the same friend in you, that girl he would only call friend.

“You’ve been preparing your whole life for this, or, actually, maybe I should say we’ve been preparing,” you smile to stifle the lurching ache in your chest, “I guess I’m the only fool waiting for her turn now.” 

A weep cracks the laugh you force out of your knotted throat. Immediately, you turn your head to avoid his watchful gaze and tuck a lock of hair behind an ear whilst discretely ridding any traces of waterworks welling in your vision. You think you must have gotten away with the feigned laugh and turn, a routine you had mastered at your previous work, but the gradual dissolution of the curve on his lips settles into an unreadable flatline more resembling a frown than anything; because even after all these years, he can still read you like an open book. 

So, if he could see through your every facade even now, then why does he not remember? You know you shouldn’t hold it against him, such a silly promise built on a lonesome pair of naive hearts,  but you can’t help it when a single word paints your conscience. 

Why?

Why can’t he remember? 

Your shared promises, your birthday, your memories, and... you?

“Y/N,” Jin begins gently, hesitating in place once he takes a step forward and you flinch, “about the wedding date…”

He waits for you to reply, supposedly for ‘whenever you were ready’, as he always does during those fragile lows of yours. 

To avoid letting loose any more unneeded drama, you can only manage a hum, “mm?”

“I…” he pauses and sighs. “I know it’s your birthday.”

A hitch in your breath is audible. You clamp your lips tightly and nod, uttering lowly, “yeah.”

“I want you to know I didn’t decide the date, Y/N,” he says firmly, “my father did.” 

“And?” you quip suddenly, eyes darting to shoot a glower deadly enough for him to twitch in evident hurt. There, you went ahead and did it. As hard as you had spent the past months muting your rawest reaction to the envelope in your mailbox, all the pent up frustration and sheer sorrow for a lost future came whiplashing just as hard. “And you couldn’t tell your father to change the date? Maybe one day after? Or two?” 

“You know I would have asked if I could, Y/N,” he bites his tongue to state sternly, “but how would he understand? Change it for… for what—”  he laughs cruelly in the midst of his burst “—for the birthday of a best friend I lost contact with for five whole years?! That’s so… so dumb—” 

“—dumb…?”

The crack in your voice leads to a stagnant silence over what is clearly a no man’s land. Betrayal visibly paints across your face, the momentary display of having wronged his closest ally stains his own. 

“Sorry, I didn’t meant that...”

“‘...yeah, you’re right,” you scoff, “I’m dumb for waiting five whole damn years’ because you wouldn’t fucking text me or call me to ask how I was doing!”

“Me?” he asks in disbelief, gawking and pointing an accusatory finger. “You wouldn’t even pick up your phone! I called you for a month after I moved!” 

“I couldn’t pay for my phone, alright?! I was living with my parents and scrambling to find a job, any fucking low wage job, and I couldn’t sit all day in my room waiting for your calls because I’m not born with a silver spoon stuck in my ass!” 

At this point, the conversation had somehow contorted into an all out brawl of words, a challenge to see who could blame the other for the unsaid confessions lost in communication. The two of you staring down the other, chest heaving and jaws clenching and brows knitting, if it weren’t for your fortunate location tucked in the hallway hidden from the main room, you would not have allowed yourself to fall, lost somewhere in the depth of his eyes. 

“Why are you so upset?” a weak, hopeless laugh tumbles from his confused, pained expression. “Aren’t you supposed to be happy for me?” 

“I—” something gets caught in your throat and you have to choke it out “—I am. I am happy for you. I’m not upset, no…”

Jin reaches a hand out to your cheek when he notices your tears but immediately retracts his notion when you flinch backwards. The boy frowns in concern, “Y/N… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. How did I upset you?”

“Nothing,” you frantically shake your head that hangs low, using the back of your hands to smear every sign of contradiction on your face. “I just—” your breath shakes and an impending series of hiccups begins to kick in “—I’m silly. I should be happy for my best friend. I mean, I am happy. I’m just being dumb.” 

“What?” Jin carefully takes a step forward. “No you’re not—”

“—I’m dumb, okay, Jin?” you finally muster the courage to lift your sights to find his own confused ones. “It’s been five whole years and I’m embarrassed for taking a joke of a promise so seriously when my best friend doesn’t even remember making it!” 

The scrunch in his brows and lost resolution only reverberate the deafening ache in your chest. “The promises…? Y/N, I—”

“—it’s fine,” you blurt. Shaking your head and stumbling backwards, you look him straight in the eyes to say your last words before the fading knocks of your heels against the wood are all that he hears. “It's my fault for believing in a foolish fairytale anyways.”

❀ ❀ ❀

It’s almost like a fever dream when you recall just how confidently you had spat those spiteful words and furthermore dared to depart with that sheer satisfaction and the slightest aftertaste of alcohol residing on your tongue that night; but now that you’re awake, sober, and without the power of liquor, there’s nothing that can pull you out of your greatest nightmare most recently manifested into reality. 

“Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that?” 

The incessant grumbles tumble freely from your lips whilst you pace back and forth in the corner of the office. Typically, your colleagues would describe you as composed, reserved, and the level-headed half of an otherwise wild pair with Alex. This morning, however, they begin to question everything they’ve ever known about you as they watch through the corner of their averting eyes. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone!” Alex hisses under her breath along with the threatening glares she shoots at the audience. Considering how long you’ve been going at your mental breakdown, it doesn’t take very long for your shuffling footsteps and mumbling gibberish to transcend into yet another white noise in the office; and once the majority of the passersby settle on the new revelation of your hidden crazed nature, Alex hastily storms to your side as you begin banging your head against the wall. “Why would you throw a tantrum at your best friend’s engagement party?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying…” you pause momentarily to groan before proceeding to damage whatever is left of your seemingly deteriorating brain. “Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do—”

“—not to mention, an ex best friend who never even knew about your unrequited feelings—”

—she comes to an abrupt stop when she finds the deadliest scowl in your dart-like eyes. No words are exchanged but the lethal consequences are clear enough to grant you her silence and the continuance of your destruction. 

“Why the hell did I do that, Alex?” you whimper, taking a break from your antics because, damn, your forehead is really starting to hurt. “Whyyyyyyy did you have to leave me alone? Maybe Jin wouldn’t have found me and I wouldn’t have had to confront him over something that shouldn’t even matter anymore! I-I barely even know him… it’s been five years and, suddenly, here I am, voila! At his engagement banquet, yelling in his face and getting mad over feelings that aren’t even his fault!” 

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol.”

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol,” you retort. Taking a deep breath, you let out a sigh along with the scowl plastered across your face. Your next words come out more as a helpless confession of fear than a rhetorical question to be answered. “Do you think he… hates me…?”

Alex observes you for a lingering second, perhaps contemplating between a merciful albeit exacerbating answer and a merciless albeit helpful answer. She speaks carefully, treading dangerous water, “well… would you like him to?”

“I don’t know,” you shut your eyes to heave yet another sigh because that weight in your chest refuses to leave you alone. An unapologetic swinging of the door and a series of loud, wide strided footsteps that follow have your brows furrowing and it takes everything in you and Alex, judging by the sudden shuffles you hear by your side, to finish the rare heart-to-heart conversation. “I think… I think if he hated me, maybe that would extinguish that part of me from the past. If he hated me, I would be able to get over it. Maybe I would hate him too, out of spite, but at least I would be able to get over—””

“—it…? Over what, Y/N?”

Over what? It takes you much longer than it should have for you to surmise the most probable answer to her question, an answer you were never willing to admit and an answer you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to admit even now. 

“You know what I’m implying, Alex,” you sigh, shutting your eyes even tighter when a rising heat marks your cheeks. “I want to get over—”

—but your words are cut short by a familiar voice that has your heart racing and striking an unprecedented strife in the mayhem that is your systemic state...

“You can’t possibly hate me, Y/N,” he proudly proclaims and you can practically hear him smiling, “no one ever hates Kim Seokjin.” 

...and when your eyes finally flutter open, you find the man, who had only seemed like a phenomenon of your feverish dream a second ago, standing before you and adorning that signature smile with raised cheek apples and crescent-like eyes that has yet to change under the influence of time and distance. 

“W-What are you doing here…?” you barely manage to utter. Eyes flickering around your surroundings, from Jin’s broad shoulders that shield nearly the entirety of a helpless albeit buoyant Alex, to your colleagues who fail to discreetly whisper over the lavishly suited mystery of a man, and finally back to the bouquet of pastel flowers wrapped with a bright pink bow. Brows furrowing, you struggle to organize your thoughts and even go so far as to check for the dent in your reddish forehead in a vain attempt to dispel the mind tricks. When the mirage before you fails to dissipate into thin air like sand, you slowly turn to face the wall again only to have your antics disrupted by his refreshingly cold hand on your burning forehead ; and when you turn, you find Jin’s mischievous smile growing wider by the second. “H-how do you know where I work…?”

“I’m your best friend, Y/N. Have you somehow forgotten after all that head banging?” Jin scoffs in disbelief, gawking with a chuckle. Suddenly, he leans in to grab your right hand firmly in his own, squeezing twice as he had always done and leading you toward the exit. “C’mon, let’s go recover those memories of yours, eh?” 

“Wait, wait,” you nearly stumble over your own feet at the pace he’s going, struggling to catch your breath when he bursts through the last door and a blast of freezing wind envelops the clash of the heat reverberating from your beating heart. “I have to go back! I still have work! And, and… and where in the world are you even taking me?” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Y/N, so many dumb questions for someone who always topped my grades,” the boy holds the bouquet of flowers out toward you, refusing to continue until you reluctantly accept his gift with your left hand against your chest. Smiling at your reluctant acceptance, Jin turns his back on you and proceeds to march into the parking lot but his now warm hands intertwined with your now cold hands never loosens its grip. 

It’s been a long five years of waiting to finally relish in the hold of his familiarly slim, often teased albeit self-praised double-jointed hands, but, now that you’re finally living in it, you’re sure it was all worth it… even if the crashing flames at the end of this road is an inevitable, foreseeable future.

“Jin,” you frown as you stare at Jin’s opening of the car door and gesture of an invitation, reluctantly seating yourself in his sumptuous car. “I failed half of my exams... remember?”

The boy’s laughs can still be heard even through the closed door as he makes his way around the car front, all whilst swinging the keys in his forefinger. His cackling steps an abrupt many levels of decibels higher when the opposing door opens and he plops into the driver seat. “That never stopped you from boasting, did it?” 

Without the flare of your usual clever quips, you purse your lips in silence and subconsciously hug the bouquet closer to your chest to keep his space as unoccupied by your presence. The sudden turn of events has your head spinning and your heart racing enough for the thumps to be felt by your hands. 

How did he find out where you worked? Where was he even taking you and what was he planning to do with you? Why was he acting as if you had not angered him just two nights ago? 

You don’t think you’ll be getting the answer any time soon, particularly the latter question, but when your stomach growls loudly, eliciting a crackle of a laugh from Jin, the awkward tension in your muscles eases ever so slightly. 

“...s-sorry… I skipped breakfast.”

“I know,” he puts the car into neutral at the red light and turns to peer at you with a smug look that says he could still read you like an open book, “because you always skip breakfast. I hid some pastry in the bouquet.” 

“What?” you scrunch your nose but immediately dive your scavenging hands into the flowers; and sure enough, you find your favorite cream-filled bread of his warm in your hands and you can’t stifle the smile that spreads on your lips. “Why would you even do that?”

“Well, in case you suddenly got really jacked and physically refused to come with me, then at least you would have something to eat.”

“No,” you giggle, “I meant why would you hide the bread in the bouquet…”

His eyes brighten like a lightbulb, as if only now recalling the genius plan he had crafted himself, “oh, because then you can sneak a bite without having to leave your desk! It always worked with our backpacks, didn’t it?” 

Your sights fall to the bouquet and you can only reply with a sheepish grin, “right… it sure did.”

The engine purrs to life again when the light turns green and the remainder of the car ride is filled with the smooth drift of his ride and the ceaseless albeit completely welcomed humming from his lips. The old Jin never had enough of an incentive to drive, although his parents always suggested gifting him a brand new car and you had begged him to take the offer out of boredom and a never-ending desire to escape far away from university, but something about this moment in time has you feeling cozy, belonging, and at home. It’s almost like it was meant to be. 

But the silver ring shining around his finger under the angle of the sun is a dreadful reminder that it isn’t. 

So, as a slap to yourself back into reality, you fracture this perfect moment you would have once framed in that hopeless mind of yours, “so… how did you find out where I worked?”

“Ah,” his right hand casually slips onto the back of your headrest. “Still haven’t figured out, rank 292?”

“No, I haven’t, rank 295.” 

“First,” he raises a finger, “I asked some people through the grapevines and eventually your friend Alex gave out.”

Grumbling under your breath, you curse, “damn it, Alex.”

“And second,” he raises another finger before proclaiming firmly, “I’m proving you wrong.” 

“Proving me wrong?” you articulate with a scoff. “You’re going to prove me wrong? Right, keep dreaming.”

“I’m not going to prove you wrong, I am proving you wrong," he insists before shifting the car to neutral and leaning in toward you, gaze brimming with conviction locked with your own wary ones, as if ready to spill a secret sworn by the two of you and hidden from the rest of the universe. 

He's close enough for his minty breath to graze your burning cheeks, to breathe a vigorous life previously unknown by your dull five years. Heart pumping and lungs barely working, daring not to budge for being caught under the sway of his gravitational force, you can hardly catch him when he finally speaks.

"I haven't forgotten, Y/N,” he utters, “I'm a man of my word."

❀ ❀ ❀

Promise one. 

"I'll cook every meal for you for an entire day."

Promise two. 

"I'll bring flowers to you at work."

His unabashed, overly detailed tactic to ask for your hand in marriage still echoes from a time long past. Hopes for those promises were weakened by each passing second but unequivocally unassailed at birth. Eventually, smothered and disheartened, you had been forced to cut ties and confront the reality of broken promises and broken dreams. You had once somehow convinced yourself things would never return to the ways they once were, and, yet, here he is having returned by your side and here you are enraptured by the utter joy in his laughs after all this wavering time. 

It's like a dream come true; and if this indeed all just a nightmarish dream bound to death, you wish you never swore allyship to this alcohol, for now your only wish is for it to succumb you into a deep, long slumber. 

“I toooooooold you I don’t like paaaaasta!” you whine, the drag of your voice manifesting in white puffs in the still chilly spring air. The sudden transition between the warmth of his house to the frozen world outside has you spiraling into a series of trips and stumbles; and as always, your best friend Jin is the only one to hold you up, which is a good thing considering how you would’ve been tumbling into the death trap of a river beneath this bridge. “So whyyyy did you make me pastaaaaaaa? Whyyyyyyy?”

“What? Why’re you blaming me?” he retorts, obviously taking offence. “You always loved pasta! You ate it every single day at uni!” 

“I diiiiid love pasta,” you say through barely parted lips, “but it’s all just… just carbs, carbs, carbssss…” 

“Since when did you care about carbs?” Jin frowns, poking your cheeks that lean against his sturdy arms. “Should I call the police?” 

Your brows furrow and you lift your head to narrow your eyes at him, “what? Why?” 

And as soon as those words slip from your lips and he raises his finger-gun hands, you wish you hadn’t asked in the first place. 

“Because I think you’re an impasta,” his finger guns transform into jazz hands after you stare at him in dumbfounded silence, “...badumtsss….”

A series of empty blinks are exchanged, as if neither of you had just witnessed his most tragic dad joke to date; and so, you swiftly continue with a sigh, “I think… I think I started caring ever since heee mentioned I was getting fat.”

“I can’t believe you just ignored my unprecedented joke…” he grumbles to himself but lets out a little huff when he catches you from tipping over. Wordlessly, he hooks his arm with yours to keep you close to him. “And this ‘he’ you mention, who’s he?” 

“Heee.” 

“Who? Who’s ‘heeee’?” he spouts with pouty lips and a raised chin, flailings his body, and therefore yours, about every which way like a toddler. “Who’s this man I have to beat up, huh? He better square up!”

“I don’t think you could beat him up…” you mumble, eyes heavy but determined enough to reach his own flabbergasted ones. “It’s Jooooon, dummy, Kim-Nam-Joon, the boy I shared my first kiiiiss with…”

“Kim Namjoon?!” his eyes widen. “You think I wouldn’t be able to beat up that nerd?!”

You almost manage to push Jin away the foot of the bridge if it weren’t for his firm lock around you. “Have you seen his muscles?! He might not look like it with his books and all but he worked out all the time!”

“Yeah, well,” his lips sputter, “well, have you seen my muscles?!”

“No—” you freeze when you realize the sturdiness of his arm against your head is existing proof against your word, and maybe it’s because of his obvious flexing at this moment, but you could not believe just how built his arms had grown in the past five years, “—and I don’t want to.” 

“Hah! You just don’t want to admit that I’m right. C’mon, I’ll show you. You feel it, huh? You feel it?” he flexes persistently, twisting and turning to maximize his little showcase. “So? You think I can beat him up now?” 

“Well…” your voice trails off, mind clearly preoccupied with sticking your cheeks to his arm like glue in a somewhat fruitful attempt to hide the flush in your face. “You don’t really need to beat him up…”

“What?” he almost yells. “Why not? He called you fat!”

“Well, he…” your shoulders rise with each confession, “he said one of my dresses looked tight on me…”

“And?”

“...and he wasn’t exactly wrong…”

“So?”

“...so he didn’t actually say anything offhandedly…”

“What? You should’ve told me earlier!” Jin exclaims, arms thrown high into the air and consequently pushing your helpless self onto the hillside grass beside the run of the river. Lips gaping and eyes popping, you watch him in full offense as he mumbles to himself before resuming his stroll down the hill. “And here I am getting worked up over nothing… can’t believe I thought I could play hero for once…”

“Hey, Jin, what do you mean by that?” you call out to him. “Wait! I said wait for me, Jin!”

When your rhetorical questions are answered with silence, you hasten to your feet in order to catch up with those damn wide strides of his. Damn it, how did he make it halfway down the hill already? Each of your exclamations are unsurprisingly disobeyed by the boy who just throws his head back over his shoulder with that cheeky grin of his as he quickened his pace. Following suit, your strides turn into a jog and your jogs turn into a full out sprint until the both of you are full on running the 100 meters dash, one chasing and one fleeing, wind blowing refreshingly into your heated face and into your tangled locks and inflated lungs that relish in the breath of life. 

In the midst of all the chaotic bliss of an epiphany, you find yourself screaming and laughing at the top of your lungs...

“Hey! Jin! I swear I”m gonna kick your ass!”

...and it’s at this moment in time that you realize having forgotten what it means to be a fool who lived and not to live to be a fool. 

At some point in time, after having caught up to the knucklehead and giving a piece of your mind, the two of you settle down along the concrete ledge beside the river after a jittery, welcomed high. The sunset that followed was a pleasant surprise that had you two reminiscing over the countless mornings and evenings you had spent watching the sun rise and set together whilst churning throughout tireless exam nights. Pink, golden streaks now hidden behind a thick coating of midnight blue embellished by magical glitters all throughout, tonight’s stargazing becomes a first for the two of you. 

As much as you hoped you could numb yourself from the inevitable aftereffects of this death wish of a dreamy day, you can’t help but smile, thankful to have been completely sober to engrave this night into memory. 

“So...” Jin’s utter is the first to break the silence. He turns his head to give you a playful look of eyes that beams with wary curiosity, “...you started dating Namjoon after I left?”

“Mm… maybe,” you hum, “why? Got a problem with that?”

“What? Psh, what? Why would I have a problem with that?” he snorts. “The only problem I would have is the fact that you never asked me for permission.”

Your eyes widen, almost threateningly, “are you saying I need permission from a man to date another man? Not to mention a man who abandoned me without warning!” 

“Okay, first of all, it’s not my fault you cancelled your phone plan! I called and called, I tried everything I could even though I was deadbeat tired every day. It’s not my fault I thought you hated my guts! So please just understand that I didn’t abandon you, alright?” he spills in an endless stream akin to a water faucet left on the highest setting, clearly a performance either practiced in private or incited by years of pent up pressure. You can practically see the steam shooting out of his fiery red ears and the accompanying whistle manifesting into words; and by the time his chest is heaving, his lungs are panting and very dramatically so, and his eyes flicker nervously between you and the passing water, you can’t help but snicker. Unsurprisingly, your lack of empathy elicits an unamused look on his face. “Hey, hey, what’re you laughing at, huh?” 

“Me? Oh, nothing,” your hands move into your laps and you bat your eyes innocently, “it’s just that I can’t believe you’re blaming me, a helpless, poor girl with absolutely no connections, for cancelling her phone plan as a last resort to make ends meet.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he warns with an accusatory finger, “don’t you dare think I’ll fall for that eye blinking and whatever cute act you’re playing up again!” 

“Why?” you pout, almost cringing at your own antics. “Am I not cute?”

“No, you’re hurting my eyes. Plus, if anyone’s cute here,” he declares adamantly before puffing his cheeks and poking one with his forefinger, “it’s me.”

The both of you stare at the other for a stagnant few seconds, one completely dedicated to his performance and the other utterly flabbergasted by what plays out before her. 

The only word you manage to crank out is a, “uh…”

“What do you think?” he raises another finger to poke his other cheek. “I practiced just for you.” 

“Um… you’re 27 now, Jin.”

“So?” he tilts his head in the other direction. “Still 22 and young at heart.”

“Yeah? Then I’m still 22 and still equally disgusted by aegyo—” just as he parts his lips to provide another rebuttal, you quickly add in “—by your aegyo.” 

And just like that, the man drops his boyish character just as quickly as he had stepped into it. He mumbles, dropping his hands and shooting an equivocate look at you, “okay, tough crowd. Sorry, ma’am.”

It shouldn’t have been that hilarious nor should your response been so delayed, but it only takes a split second of his surrender for a thunderous cackle to slip from your lips. Throwing your head back and peering at the dangling stars above, you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath of the incoming wind. The fresh petrichor of spring and the earthiness of mowed grass whisks themselves into the cold, clean breeze from the vast body of water. Thin locks of hair grazes across your cheeks, swaying in the wind as does your spirit. Years are lifted from your shoulders and all that is left is the heaviness that remains in your chest; nevertheless, you have never felt so free from the past. 

“Also,” he adds nonchalantly, cocking his head to look at you, “I wasn’t speaking from the position of a man. I was speaking as a best friend. As your best friend.” 

And just like that, sitting side by side and sharing a cool breeze, it’s almost as if all these moments of remorse, spilled tears, and unreleased frustration were made to build the climax to this grand finale: the night you can finally speak your truth. 

“It’s funny how things never change, huh?” you say when your eyes flutter open and you find Jin looking over with a fondness identical to the one you’ve spotted years before. “We can split for five years, thinking one hates the other’s guts, and reunite again as best friends… as if nothing had ever happened.”

Jin chuckles, hands grabbing to the ledge and head lolling back to join you but his eyes remain fixated on you, “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Are we vampires and we just don’t know it?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure either… not sure about the good thing and not the vampire thing, that is,” your laugh settles into silence when you spot the reflected light inflicted by the ring around his finger, sitting on the ledge just an inch away from yours. Close enough to touch but far enough to confirm an unequivocal truth. Sighing, you turn your head to meet his intent gaze with a bittersweet upturn to your lips, “normally, I really despise the idea of change; but lately, when I think about how things might never change between us, how we’ll always banter as a pair of stupid best friends, I start wanting it more than ever.”

Is this the moment? Is it all really happening right now? Judging by the course of your blithe actions, if change is what you’re looking for, then change is what will surely ensue after tonight. Whether for the good or for the worse, you’ll take a reluctant guess of the latter. 

The man scrunches his brows before playing it off with a nervous laugh, “what do you mean things haven’t changed? You dated Namjoon, probably got it on a few times here or there—”

“—what—”

“—please don’t confirm,” he butts in with a raised hand, “and I have, too. Sure things have changed!”

“Ooh?” you raise a brow, genuinely shocked. “You finally got some experience under your belt? I’m impressed, Mr. Kim.”

“Hey,” he scolds, “what do you mean by ‘impressed?’” 

“Well, I should’ve known… figuring you’re about to be a married man and all…” you mumble, forcing a smile despite the sudden dip in your mood. Turning your head to stare off into the opposite end of the river where the black silhouette of skyscrapers lie, you curse yourself mentally. You really thought you could get away with the inevitable truth for the entire day? “You know, I can’t believe I almost forgot that you’re getting married in less than a week. Almost like how I couldn’t believe you almost forgot our promises.”

“I told you Kim Seokjin is a man of his words.”

“You sure about that? Promise one: cook for me for an entire day. Check. Promise two: gift me flowers at work. Check,” you turn around once again to look him firmly in the eyes and it’s almost as if the both of you know what’s about to come next. “What about the three other promises, Kim Seokjin?” 

“Y/N…” his voice trails off but his gaze never leaves yours, almost as if too afraid to be misconstrued as another betrayal. 

Quick-mindedly, you chime, “stop looking at me so seriously! I’m just joking! Promise three: you won’t break my heart. How could you after a wonderful day like this? Promise four: you won’t forget our promises. Clearly, you remember. And promise five: you’ll keep all your promises. Check.”

“Y/N,” he stifles every wince but you can tell by the way his feet have stopped kicking into the void. “I don’t think I’ve kept all those promises.” 

“Well,” you shrug, pressing your lips into a line tightly, “I only see checks in my book, Jin. You’re good to go—”

“—no, Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he says sternly; and when your mouth falls agape and your head slightly nods, his wary eyes searching for a steady sign in the windows to your soul, he continues calmly, “my marriage is actually an arranged marriage.”

“Your—” you blink blankly, jaw almost falling to the floor “—your, you, what?”

An arranged marriage. 

All this time, all this pain, all this heartbreak of wanting to do something about your feelings but remaining hopeless because of an unrequited love… turns out to be an active, fully conscious decision? Not a falling out of love, not a helpless affection for another woman, but a matchmaking handcrafted without the heavens?

“My,” he has to stop himself just as his breath hitches, “my father... arranged it. ” 

“What? Why? Is it because he prefers you with a well off family?” 

“What? No,” he shakes his head with a slight upcurve to his lips that you’ve never quite seen before. Watching him hook a hand to the nape of his neck, clearly avoiding your eyes, you have an inkling of something much worse than the presented news. “You know my father would never do that… it has nothing to do with money...”  

“But you left this town for money, didn’t you? For a better job, a better pay, a better life, and for the sake of your dignity as a dutiful son, are you telling me none of those were related to money?” 

His eye twitches by your name-calling, clearly pained once again despite knowing very well of your precedent dislike toward his silver spoon background and his nonnegotiable obedience. Each second of silence culminates a tension even more formidable than the last. Guilt intoxicates your boiling blood enough for you to bite your tongue and hold yourself back; because after accusing him of holding onto his dignity, you, yourself, could not forfeit that of your own either. 

Worse yet, you’re a complete hypocrite. 

“Why can’t you just tell him to call it off?” 

You never knew silence could be so deafening.

“So… so do you...” you begin hesitantly. Usually, with your eyes locked with his, a thousand words would have been exchanged with each passing second; but now, with gazes that wade through the tides of the unknown, for the first time ever, you don’t recognize the mystery before you. “Do you... love her?” 

His lips part slowly, but no time in the world would be enough for him to find the right words. To you, his silence is as clear as any possible answer. Something sinks in you, perhaps after acknowledging the implications behind his choice to leave your question unanswered, but your blood boils from the audacity of those apologetic eyes that, even now, never stray from yours… as if this minute of sincerity would be enough to mend the inevitable decade of scars. 

You begin slowly, failing to hide the shakiness of your deep breaths, “...then what about the baby?”

“What baby...?” his face contorts with a frown until, out of the blue, something flickers across his numerous expressions: confusion, remembrance, contemplation. His hesitation that ensues might have been fleeting but its infliction upon your shattered trust will surely remain. “Oh, that… that was just a rumor my aunt spread because of the sudden marriage.” 

“And,” you force yourself to breathe, scattering for something, anything to throw at him, “and you don’t think you could’ve told me sooner?”

The man scrunches his brows, “and that would’ve helped, how?” 

“‘How?’” you repeat, as if it was the dumbest question you had ever heard. Mirroring his expression, your eyes avert between him and the river as scoffs of utter disbelief escape you. “‘How?’ What do you mean ‘how?’”

“I mean exactly that!” his voice suddenly escalates to a level of frustration you’ve never quite heard from him before. “How would it have changed anything? Why would you need to know earlier?”

Gawking, you exasperate desperately, “you know why!” 

“No, I might be your best friend but don’t expect me to just read your mind!”

“It’s cause...” you swing your leg over the ledge to face the sidewalk with your back on Jin as soon as you could feel an incoming constriction at the back of your throat, a notorious sign shared just between the two of you that waterworks were about to appear. Breathing slowly and doing just about everything to keep your voice from shaking, and fruitlessly so, you mumble before standing to your feet, “...you know what? I don’t even know anymore. I’m sorry. Nevermind.”

Why did you ever think you would have a chance? 

Is this it? Is this really it? The end? 

The questions come crashing into you as you make your retreat, head hanging low and palms drying the inconvenient tears that mark your face. After all the confidence you had built up, after finally thinking—actually, believing—you could get over him tonight, how humiliating is it that you’re now running away from a reality that would eventually and inevitably engulf you? 

The worst part of it is, Jin, like the best friend and good man that he is, persists to chase after you. You don’t have to hear the quickened footsteps of his usual wide, well-paced strides to know he’s coming. You don’t have to hear the calls he makes on the top of his lungs for you to know he’s on his way. 

As someone who so helplessly fell in love with their best friend, you just know he would be there through thick and thin—whether you like it or not. 

“Y/N!” Jin hollers; and when he finally catches up to you, having to sprint and consequently inciting for you to surrender with an abrupt stop to your path, every bit of air is knocked from your lungs. Arms wrapping over your waist and enveloping you into a tight hug, you can feel his heart pounding against your back. 

To most, it should have been the perfect method to comfort a crying friend; so, damn it, why does it only make you cry harder? 

“What?” your voice cracks as you just barely manage to smear the following tears within the wrap of his bear hug. “Damn it, Jin, why can’t you leave me alone for once?”

Head resting on yours, his voice is muffled by your hair as he murmurs, “I can’t just leave my best friend crying like that. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.” 

He embraces you. He embraces you not only physically through the silence but also through the emotional rollercoaster that comes with it. He, Kim Seokjin, your best friend, holds you through the ups and downs and the rights and the wrongs. He even holds you now, comforting you in the hurricane that you brewed without ever knowing and never caring that he had, in fact, not committed any wrongdoing. If anything, you must be in the wrong. 

And when you put it that way, how could you blame yourself for falling in love with him?

“Jin… I’m sorry, I tried everything to stop myself but,” your voice shakes but your courage prospers, “but I just, I just really, really love you.” 

A second passes. 

Now, two. 

Then, three. 

Something strikes against your chest when the surreality of the situation settles into reality. His silence could mean many things, but the tightening of his embrace could only mean one. Blood flushes your cheeks as you lament over his sensation of your fervent heartbeats. Secrets thrown out into the spring air, your heated cheeks are equally exposed to the passing, chilly zephyr. 

He knows you love him. At this moment, he can physically feel the proof of your love and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

“Sorry,” you manage to blurt under your breath, “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said—”

—the remaining words dissipate into thin air when he places his hands firmly on your shoulder and whirls you around. Face just inches away from his, you barely catch wind of his declaration before the unthinkable occurs…

“Too late. I don’t want to.”

...and his lips meet yours. 

It’s everything you have ever imagined. Years of admiring those plush lips, wondering what it would be like to feel the warmth of those wonders pressed against yours, are finally coming to fruition… except they don’t. His hands fall from your shoulders to the small of your back, but your hands don’t intertwine behind the back of his neck like you imagined. Instead, they hover in midair, hesitant to embrace him in your arms. Why? With your eyes and his fluttered closed and an audible deep sigh that signals a desire finally satisfied from the both of you, reality still manages to twist a dream-come-true. 

Does he actually love you or does he only pity you?

Finally, and ever so suddenly, your hands firmly push against his chest to plant an arm’s distance from you and him.

“Sorry…” you pant, avoiding those intense eyes. “We… we can’t do this.” 

“What?” Jin raises a brow, taking a step forward as you take one back. “Why not?”

Wordlessly, you point at his ring finger.

“Oh,” he chuckles nervously, hand scratching the back of his neck. You can only watch his every move, your stare gradually becoming a glare. Rosy hues coloring his cheeks, he speaks sheepishly, “I forgot we’re in public.”

His nonchalance irks you to your core. There isn’t any other way to put it. Blithe and dense have always been your favorite traits of his, but now that he’s here? Planting buds he could never sustain and sending mixed signals despite knowing of your feelings in an unfitting circumstance were never things you knew Jin for.  

“I-I don’t get it, Jin,” you shake your head. “I don’t think we should see each other any more. In any context. Not even after the wedding.” 

With his hands buried into his pockets and shoulders high enough to hide his reddened ears, he glances up at you, alert. “What? Why? What don’t you get?”

“It’s ‘cause... I just don’t get… this. I don’t get us,” you articulate, struggling to find the right words. “Why are you so… nonchalant about this? Why are you kissing me? Is it out of pity? Is it because I said I liked you—”

“—Y/N,” he says lowly like the drop of his previously cheerful mien, “you know I would never do something like that.” 

“Then why?! Why are you doing this to me? Do you love her or not?” you pause for a second to stifle the crack in your voice but, alas, all is in vain. “...and do you even… love me?”

He frowns, the tension in his body evident by the knitting of his brows as he struggles, “I… Y/N...”

“So you can’t admit that you love her and you can’t even lie to say you love me. So why the hell are you throwing away an entire marriage just to kiss me?” your scoff comes out more so like a plea. “You’re confusing me, Jin—”

“—that’s,” he abruptly pauses to stop himself from exploding, taking a deep breath before continuing, “that’s exactly why I can’t say it, Y/N! I don’t want to confuse you. I don’t want to disappoint my father. I-I don’t want to complicate matters more!”

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?!”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know! It was a spur of the moment! I couldn’t stop myself from chasing after you and when I hugged you—I-I just wanted to, alright? I’m sorry.”

He’s... sorry. 

Sorry for kissing you, sorry for acting as if your feelings had been reciprocated, sorry for breaking all the promises he made and pretending like he was going to patch things up again tonight. Speaking your mind and hearing his words are all that you need to finally understand what you need to do. Your heart drops but you hold your head high because your final verdict is the right thing to do. Maybe this time you’ll finally be able to cease these useless feelings. What's the point in pursuing a hopeless love? 

The only one you would be hurting is yourself. 

This epiphany, in itself, is enough to drape an ephemeral clarity over your frenzic self; and just like a bandaid over a scar, you’re able to function, if only just temporarily.

“Hey, Jin?” you call out softly to the boy kicking at nothing on the bare sidewalk. It’s hard not to melt under the delicate glance he throws over his shoulder. “I’m not… mad. Well, I kind of am. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry for everything that I said about your upbringing. I know how close you are to your family. I’m sure you’ve been under a lot of pressure…”

“No, Y/N,” he shakes his head, turning his body to face you with a low hanging head, “it’s my fault. Even considering all that, I still shouldn’t have done that or any of this. I… I’m sorry for confusing you.”

Forcing a composed smile, you persevere, “do you have your fiance’s number?”

Head lifting with a frown, he answers, “yeah, what kind of a fiance would I be if I didn’t? Why though?”

“Right,” you say to yourself under your breath, hearing his ‘fiance’ echo relentlessly in your head. “I just need it, okay? To… to sort out everything...”

And just when you wonder how insensitive could this boy get...

“What?” he chuckles. “Are you going to fight for me?”

...it gets worse.

Rolling your eyes, you give him a hard, well-deserved slap against the chest before snickering at his loud wince and declaring your one last confession of the night. 

“No, I could fight for us, but I won’t singlehandedly fight for you,” you then declare with a bitter smile, “I will, however, tell her how jealous I am.”

And that's your most irrefutable confession, one that has Jin stupefied for the future midnights to come.

❀ ❀ ❀

Morning arrives much sooner than you had anticipated. White puffs mark the air whilst you wrap yet another layer of scarf around your neck. It seems as though the breeze from a night ago had intentionally danced around town, lingering and spectating on the resolution of your five year long love conundrum. Ironically enough, the two of you reunite at the very spot where everything had first started… except this time, everything will finally end.

The pain he had marked in you inflicted by the words he could not bring himself to say still stains your every waking second.

“You have to do this. You can do this,” you incessantly chant to yourself, pacing back and forth beside the most prominent cherry blossom tree in town. “You have to do this. You can do this—”

“—Y/N, is that you?”

What you presume to be Youngji’s voice perks your ears. Looking up, you spot her holding a phone in her hands as she flickers between you and her screen. A quizzical quirk of the brow plasters across your face as you wave at her and she jogs over to you as quickly as she could in that pink, wool poncho and those tan, fluffy boots. “Hey, Youngji, right?” 

“Yeah,” she says in between each pant of breath, “that’s me.” 

Her hands immediately find refuge on her knees whilst she bends over to catch her breath. Typically, you’re the very self-aware type, but there isn’t anything you could do to stop yourself from staring. The girl strikes you as… flamboyant. With her dark red pigtails, bright smile, and dainty attire, she’s everything you’ve always imagined a female version of Jin would be like. It’s hard not to wonder… maybe an arranged marriage really can be a match made in heaven, but you force yourself out of that rabbit hole before having another breakdown in front of an innocent stranger. 

The tang of jealousy, however, refuses to budge. 

“Sorry, for,” she pants, holding her hand up to show you her phone screen, “calling out to you like that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you squint at the sight of the screen displaying a candid photo of you, taken on this very street on that very day, as you stuffed one of his breads in your mouth. Drawn on your face is a mustache and a unibrow. “Did Jin do—”

“—Jin gave me a terrible reference photo.” 

Scoffing, you cross your arms, “damn it, Jin.”

Youngji crackles into a firework of uncontrollable laughter, rendering you stupefied. After a literal minute passes by, she finally manages to speak in between the bursts of giggles that follow, “you two—” giggle “—really are—” giggle “—close, huh?” And as a grand finale, she slaps her stomach with a loud sigh of relief that her laughs have come to an end. When she notices you staring at her bewilderedly, a light bulb flashes through her as she gasps and feigns a whimper, “o-oh! Ow! M-my baby!”

“You know you don’t have to pretend, right?” you can only let out a laugh of disbelief because you still can’t take in the mirror image your best friend. “Jin already told me about the fake pregnancy.” 

“Oh, in that case,” she smiles widely before giving her stomach one more big, satisfying slap, “see, you guys really are so close!” 

“I… I guess. I’m not sure if taking me out for one day after five years of radio silence really counts as close, though,” you then quickly add in with raised hands, “he only did so out of obligation, though! I swear it was nothing more!”

“Hmmm?” she hums, leaning in a curious ear with a cheshire-like smile. “Is it because of those promises he made?”

“...yeah, wait, he told you about those?” 

Of course he did, idiot, they’re engaged. 

“Well, something like that,” she shrugs, “so how much did he tell you?”

“About?” 

“About the wedding, silly!” 

“Uh, nothing much really. The pregnancy was a false rumor, the marriage was arranged by his father…”

“Father?” she inquires, watching you closely with those big, round eyeballs of hers. 

“Yes?” you hesitantly nod. “Father?” 

“Ah,” she nods, as if she finally catches drift of something, “I see.” 

“Oh yeah,” you add, “I also found out it’s on my birthday.”

“What?!” her eyes grow wider, if they even possibly can. “Jin never told me that! What the heck, man? A wedding? On his best friend’s birthday?!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know right?” you nod passively before coming to an abrupt stop. “Wait, what? Why does it matter to you?”

“Of course it matters to me! You’re Jin’s best friend, aren’t you? You have no idea how much he talks about you back home. I know you so well that sometimes I feel like you might be my best friend,” she chimes before reaching out to cup your hands in hers. “Let’s celebrate properly with Jin after the wedding, okay?” 

“Um, sure…”

But you don’t exactly plan on unnecessarily sticking around his life for any longer than the wedding… except, seeing how close she must be with Jin in addition to her loose-lip impression, you decide not to tell her that. 

“So,” she drops her hands to the side, “what did you need to tell me?” 

Why did you call her to meet you here again? After witnessing her flamboyant entrance, it’s hard for you to keep yourself from derailing. 

“Oh, um,” you scratch the back of your head awkwardly, “I just wanted to meet my best friend’s fiance, that’s all.”

“Ahhh, I see.”

The woman pauses, nodding at you intently almost as if waiting for the real intentions to be revealed. Damn it, either you’re a literal open book or she reincarnated from the same soul as Jin’s. 

“So…” you purse your lips. “Are you okay with it? The arranged marriage, I mean?” 

“Well,” she shrugs, finally dropping the smile from her lips. “At first I hated the thought of it. I felt like I didn’t really have a choice, but… when I met Jin—” a smile is hinted in the corner of her lips and in the sparkle of her eyes “—I thought ‘I’m pretty lucky girl, aren’t I?’ I think the world must have finally taken pity on me.”

A soft, stifled laugh slips from you as your eyes fall to the ground and a bittersweet smile accompanies your lips, “yeah, you’re pretty lucky.” 

“Don’t get me wrong though,” your eyes immediately shoot up to find her raising defensive hands, “it wasn’t some sort of a love at first sight. He’s handsome, sure, but—”

“—a marriage is a lifelong commitment—”

“—exactly,” she sighs, “I didn’t really know him, but when I was forced to spend time with him… I thought if I had to get married, then he would be the best option. He’s not a bad guy.” 

“No,” you smile in your reverie, shaking your head, “he's not a bad guy at all; and when you really get to know him, his stupid dorky self, I think it’s impossible not to fall for him.” 

“Yeah?” 

“He’s mean when he jokes around but he’s actually very kind, he’s sensitive when you poke him where it hurts but he hides it deceptively well, he’ll apologize for being wrong when the both of you clearly know you’re in the wrong, he’ll cook and wear the hottest pink clothes he can find because ‘to hell with societal norms,’ he’ll tell you the dumbest dad jokes but I promise you’ll get used to them eventually, ” you let out a reminiscent laugh that comes out more like a sigh, “and, sometimes, very rarely, he’ll hurt you unintentionally, of course, but he’ll always go out of his way to make it up because that’s just… that’s Jin. That’s my best friend.” 

A breeze passes by to perfectly mark the end of your cadence. Branches rustle above you and freshly budded cherry blossom petals flutter their way toward the grass underneath the two of you only to be risen once again by a following zephyr. Having been there throughout his and your lives, it’s almost as if the long-standing tree is agreeing to attest to your words. 

“Wow,” Youngji finally says after witnessing your truthful albeit embarrassing spoken love letter, “I… I wouldn’t doubt any of it… but why are you telling me? Shouldn’t you be telling Jin?” 

“I’m telling you, because,” you emphasize, “because I'm jealous of your position but I can't do anything about it so I want you to take good care of Jin. I just… I need to know he’ll be in good hands. I want him to be loved like the way that he loves. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Youngji just nods. It’s the most somber response you’ve ever seen from her. Almost like the joining of hands in marriage has finally become reality. 

“Do you…” you struggle to squeeze out of the knot in your throat, “do you love him…?” 

“Y/N—” she begins but suddenly lets go of whatever she must have had planned “—yes, yes I do.” 

“And… you’ll take care of him?” 

Youngji bobs her head lightly, “yes, I will.”

“Promise?” 

“...promise.”

“Okay, then I’m entrusting him to you, and,” you smile, leaning forward to shake her hands before heaving one last sigh, “and this time, please keep the promise.” 

❀ ❀ ❀

A curse sinks into the thickness of the sapphire dusk that quickly descends upon the hushed city. Keys tinkle to decorate the silence of tonight’s resting wind, a silence that would have been accompanied by an equally passive woman and an oblivious man whose hands persist to fumble to his guest’s dismay. 

Standing before a small willow, vintage-looking store tucked away in the corner of downtown, an inaudible breath ascends a cloud of white that momentarily shrouds the grand interior peeking from spotless windows that line the exterior. Golden warm studio lights illuminate the gorgeously exquisite ivory gowns from the trailing trains up to its waterfalls of dainty veils. Velvet suits and satin neckties accompany each headless mannequin, welcoming each passerby to imagine themselves in their wildest fairytales… your hand in his and his in yours as a fleeting moment becomes a sealed promise of a lifelong loyalty. 

Breath completely taken away, you, yourself, almost fall prey to your own far-fetched dreams. 

“I thought I said we shouldn’t meet up anymore,” your forced mutters drag you from your short-lived reveries, “why did you bring me here?”

“You said we shouldn’t meet up anymore, yet here you are,” Jin chirps before cheering to himself under his breath once the key finally clicks into place, “yes! Old man must have purposely given me these rusty old keys.”

Crossing your arms, you retort, “I came because you said your close friend from home would be here, too.”

Turning around to face you with his back to the door and a hand on the golden knob, he raises a quizzical brow, “and… are you not my close friend from home?” 

“I thought you meant the other—”

“—this is my home, Y/N,” he says firmly, looking straight at you, “and I want my best friend to see me in my wedding suit before anyone else.” 

“But why me…?”

“Because I only care about your opinion.”

He answered without hesitation, but in your head you figure he must have forgotten about Youngji, the true spotlight of the show.

Gritting your teeth, a staredown begins between the two of you; but the longer you face those unequivocal looks of determination in his eyes, the hotter your cheeks become in the middle of a contrastingly chilly night.  

“Alright, fine.” 

“Thanks,” he gives you a small, lopsided smile before pushing the door open with his back and ushering you in with a slight bow, “ladies first.”

Your eyes roll but not for very long when you step foot into the store and your mouth falls agape. The ceiling is much higher than you had perceived from outside, the sides are lined with grand, wooden staircases that lead to a second floor where hundreds upon hundreds of white dresses and black suits find purchase along the hangers, and the click of your heels against the marble tiles of the entrance floor echo into the extravagant expanse. 

The wooden insulation of the store proves infallible when the door closes behind Jin and the shrewd air leaves you to a much more bearable surrounding. Standing affixed to the entrance, you watch as Jin strides toward the carpeted floor where a taupe curtain hanging from the ceiling drapes over a raised platform sits across its partner platform in the opposite of the room. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enraptured by something aside from me,” Jin chuckles as he begins stripping the suit off of a black, velvety mannequin before pointing at the mannequin standing beside the opposite platform, “oh, why don’t you try on some dresses while I’m at it?” 

“What?” you scoff, finally taking a step onto the carpet. “First off, I never stared at you like that before. Second, why the hell would I do that? It’s your wedding, not mine.” 

“I asked the store owner for permission and picked a dress for you to try on,” he continues, finally stopping in the midst of unbuttoning his white, collared shirt when he looks up to find the fear in your eyes. “Hey, haven’t you always wanted to try one of these?”

“Yeah,” you laugh in disbelief because he actually listened to your past rambles, “but never under these circumstances.”

“C’mon, you never know if you’ll ever have a chance like this again,” he gestures once more when he notices the start of your contemplation, “c’mon, go on!”

You really don’t want to. It’s that nagging feeling of something going completely wrong tonight if you were to succumb and let yourself go. After all, your worst fear is yourself. It doesn’t feel right and you begin to wonder if it’s alright for you to hold onto this moment you’ve always dreamed about: dolling up and swearing your vows side by side with Jin. 

If you were to live out your fairytale, just for tonight, would you finally be able to sleep dreamlessly at night? 

“...fine,” you groan and storm across the room, tossing your purse into the ruby sofas and stepping onto the platform. Turning around to face a gleeful Jin, you’re about to scowl at him until your eyes flicker between the cheeky grin on that youthful face and those sculpted abdomen of his elevated by the lighting above. Cheeks flushing red, you gulp at the unseen sight before clutching the curtain in your hands and swinging it closed with a mumble, “and at least have some decency and use the curtains, God damn it…”

The freezing touch of your hands doesn't hold a candle to the heat of your face. Trying to calm your racing heart, you curse to yourself at the way he merely cackles at you and, even worse, the way your heart intensifies in response. 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

“...shut up,” you say more to yourself and your deafening heart.

The gown standing before you, however, is no help to your case either, for when you glance over the dress, the long train that could awe an entire room, the complimenting silhouette that doesn’t scream too over-the-top but enough to fulfill the little girl within you, and the classic lace sleeves that you’ve gushed over whilst skimming through magazines, you realize Jin had always been attentive even when he was stuffing his face with bread or even when he was being petty over an argument and you tried to rectify with incessant small talk. 

It’s at this moment that you acknowledge the rabbit hole you had just willingly fallen into and the impossibility of its towering escape.

“So,” Jin calls out to you as the sound of rustling clothes fill the silent air, “what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?”

“My birthday? Oh, right,” you slam palm to your forehead, having dwelled over the marriage and consequently forgetting your own birthday. “Uh, nothing really. I haven’t really thought about it this year.” 

“Really? You? Y/N? Not planning her own birthday?” he gasps. “Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?”

“Oh, shut up. With age comes other problems to deal with...”

...problems like you.

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “You have to have something. You can’t tell me you’ve gotten every single thing checked off of that old ‘birthday gift ideas’ list you gave me.”

“I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m very far from it and it’s not like you were actually going to give me everything I asked for. Say, what did I even have on that list?” your eyes wander to the towering curtains that envelop you as your hands reach behind to the buttons on your back. “A bowl of your tofu soup, some pocket money, a matching sweater, a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a… ring.” The word slips from your lips and it floats in the stagnant air before you can even do anything about it. His silence rings in your ears, so you quickly add in, “but I don’t want materialistic stuff like that anymore.” 

“...oh, really?” 

“Nope,” you heave a heavy sigh and pat the poofy material of the skirt down, “I think I’ve come to realize that… I just want to be loved. I don’t need a dress or a necklace or a ring…  you wouldn’t understand, but I don’t just want to hear those words. I want to feel them. I want to be loved.” 

But only by him.

A lingering silence drifts long enough for you to start panicking until, finally, he answers, “no, I understand.” 

“...well,” you quickly chirp as you fumble with the lacey material of your dress, “enough about me, what do you want for your big day, hm?”

“Why would I need a present from you?” he remarks. You can hear him finishing his final touches and you can barely stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You’ve given me enough already.”

“You mean I’ve given you enough earfuls and tears,” you retort, clutching onto the curtains as you shut your eyes to muster every courage within you. “Isn’t there anything I can give you? Anything you want?”

Counting down to yourself, the curtains and drawn open in one, swift swing; and when your eyelids flutter open, you find him standing on the platform across from you, dressed in a classic black and white suit with the curtains clutched in his hands like a mirror image of you. He glances over you from head to toe, as you do to him, until the both of you settle in each other’s gazes for what seems like an eternity, willingly lost and ever-so-enraptured.

You almost forget this isn’t actually your wedding.

“This,” he answers with a soft smile, “this is enough.”  

“...stop it.”

JIn frowns, “stop what?”

“Stop… looking at me like that,” you articulate, hands covering your bashful grin. “It’s making me feel self-conscious.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I have such a good eye at picking clothes for you!” he says whilst pointing an accusatory finger. “I guess 22 year old Jin had a pretty good sense of fashion after all.” 

“You picked this five years ago…?” 

The man shrugs but his high chin says otherwise regarding his humility, “I told you Kim Seokjin is a prepared man of his word.” Eyes peering across to wink at you, he continues a bit more seriously, “I might not be able to fulfill all of our promises, but this is the closest I can to it.” 

“Jin… you’re…” you laugh in disbelief, bashfully avoiding his intent gaze, “...you’re so incredibly stupid that I can feel it from all the way here.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he grins mischievously and takes a step toward you and off the platform. “How about now?”

“Stop it, don’t spread your stupidity to me.”

He spreads his arms out wide whilst taking another few steps forward, “why not? Aren’t we supposed to be together through thick and thin?”

“No, not really,” you adamantly shake your head amidst a hysterical fit of giggles, “don’t come any closer.” 

“Oh, no,” he feigns worry. Another footstep. “I can’t stop myself.” He approaches even closer. “The stupidity is spreading!” 

With him just a footstep away, you cower behind the shield of your hands, “stop it, stop looking at me like that—”

—and just as you squeal, his arms wrap around you to pull you into a tight embrace.

Like two lost puzzle pieces, his hands fit perfectly in the small of your back and his chin rests comfortably in the crook of your neck. His hair grazes against your burning cheeks. His scent envelops you into a rosy haze. He could probably feel the beat of your chest against his, but you wouldn’t know when you’re preoccupied by the thuds of his own. You had never been aware of the lonesome emptiness you’ve felt all these years until now, under the warmth of his touch that completes your other half. 

You almost forget to breathe until he takes a deep breath and lets out a slow, dreary sigh. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Under any other circumstances, you would have smacked him for lying. Perhaps it’s the stir of the starry skies or the impending occasion or even the look he made on his way to you with a gaze that oozed with absolute adoration, but something tells you he’s being his genuine self tonight… and that’s what you fear the most. 

“You shouldn’t be saying that, Jin,” you say, stroking his head buried in your shoulder, “and you shouldn’t be looking at any women but Youngji with those eyes.” 

Whether he’s quietly reflecting or stubbornly disagreeing, Jin remains silent. His breath entangles with yours, syncing with the wavelengths that you two have been running for an ongoing seven years and, perhaps, beyond. 

He frustrates you to your wits’ end. There’s nothing he hasn’t made you question. At times, when you’re tossing and turning in bed and hoping for a way out of that cavern of a mind, you wish time could skip to a year in which the voices no longer haunt you at night; and yet, when you’re here buried in his arms, you would do anything to freeze and relish this fragment in time. 

It isn’t right. You two aren’t right and you know it isn’t right… but how do you deny yourself of the cure to those deep scars when he, himself, wishes to be downed? 

It takes everything in you to finally drop your hands from his locks to his shoulder. Just as you’re about to deny the tempting elixir, Jin lifts his head along with his gaze that now meets yours, “Y/N, I have something I need to tell you.”

“...y-yeah?” 

The windows to his soul twinkle underneath the dim chandeliers above. Those starry dark brown eyes simply take your breath away.

“My dad,” his voice quivers like the water that wells in his eyes; and when you know he’s about to bawl, you pat his head ever-so-endearingly. Gulping, he finds the courage to continue, “he’s sick.” 

“Oh... oh, Jin,” you murmur, quickly wiping the few tears that drop onto his flush cheeks before bringing him into another tight embrace. “I’m sorry.” 

“I only moved—” and that’s what cracks his buoyant front into a full on bawl  “—I only moved to take care of him!”

“I understand.” 

He shakes his head, “I didn’t want to abandon you!” 

“No, Jin, I know,” your voice is buried underneath his whimpers, “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t know things would turn out like this!” he cries, holding you even closer. “I didn’t know!” 

“It’s okay, Jin. Really, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.” 

“No, it won’t be okay,” his voice hitches in the midst of his hiccups, “my father is dying and now I’m walking down the aisle with a woman I don’t even love!” 

Your strokes come to a temporary stop because how could fate be so twisted? Who is it to decide whose time shall begin and whose time is up? You have to hold your breath along with the waterworks that sour your eyes. You can’t cry now. He needs your stability.

He needs you. 

“Did you…” you take a shaky breath, leaning back to watch him cover the messy state of his face, “did you tell your dad?”

“I-I couldn’t,” he stutters, voice muffled by his voice, “you know how long he’s been waiting for this.”

I know,” you ponder for a second before hesitating to continue, “...why didn’t you consider me?” 

“I—” his hiccup interrupts him as he roughly smears his tear-stained cheeks with his palms “—I thought you hated me. I didn’t think you would agree. I thought our promises were just a joke. But when you confessed that night, when you said you would fight for us—” his voice cracks again as he laughs at himself, eyes to the ground “—I thought damn, fuck, how did I mess up so hard? I should have fought for us. I’m so stupid—”

“—no you’re not—”

“—so fucking stupid!” 

His self-reprimanding curse echoes in the room. Each of his demeaning scorns inciting a fiery justice in you. 

“No,” you state, “you’re not stupid.” 

Without the dignity to face you, his hands clenched into fist and he continues with bangs shrouding his sorrowful eyes, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I hurt you—”

“—no, Jin, you did not—”

“—I messed us up—”

“—no, Jin, look at me, hey, look at me,” you place a finger under his chin to lift his spirits until those bloodshot eyes of his find refuge in yours. Smiling, you speak, “see? I’m okay. So what are you apologizing for?”  

“Aren’t you… mad?” 

“Mad? No, silly,” you laugh, wiping another tear. “Sad? Maybe.”

“See—”

“—sad because I wasn’t there by your side when you needed me… and maybe a bit sad that I won’t be the one holding you like this tomorrow,” you apologize with a soft smile over the latter jab that incites a wince from the boy. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father?” 

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” he hiccups, “and when I found out, I tried to call you but it didn’t go through.”

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, “I’m sorry.” 

“No,” he takes a deep breath to calm his high, “it’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either,” you affirm, breaking out into a laugh when you take another look at his reddened eyes and dampened cheeks. “Look at you! Why are you looking like a mess on our wedding day, huh?! At least let us be ignorantly happy for one day!” 

“What…?” he frowns whilst hastily smearing every last evidence of his breakdown on his face. The result is an equally red, irritated skin across his cheeks. “What’re you talking about? Kim Seokjin never looks like a mess… hey, what’re you laughing at?!” 

“Look at your tie, idiot! What kind of a rich son are you if you can’t even tie it correctly? Come over here,” you say just as you grab the end of his necktie to pull him up onto the platform. With his necktie now at your eye-level, you begin to unravel whatever knot he had attempted. All the while, you can feel his gaze as he watches you do your thing, completely enamored. This time, it’s your turn to turn red. To distract yourself from the rising self-consciousness, you clear your throat, “call me whenever you’re going through a hard time, okay? I’ll give you my new number…”

The piece of fabric flails around into equally atrocious knots that Jin had previously created until you groan in frustration and disassemble everything. You had practiced this so many times while he was gone, foolishly believing it would come in handy the day he returned, but why does nothing ever work out the way you want it to? 

“I swear it worked last time I tried…”

Your best friend just watches silently, chuckling as you wrap the fabric around your own neck this time; and when he speaks, much steadier like the Jin you have always known, he looks you directly in the eye. “Youngji told me about your guys’ conversation.”

“Huh?” you pause as soon as your embarrassing declaration of love begins reciting itself in your head, but not even the resumed work of your hands could distract you from the ever-growing shade of red. “O-oh, that… what about it?” 

“I heard what you said about me.” 

“Yeah?” you hum nonchalantly, even though the trembling of your hands and the avoidance of your eyes from his give you away. “Well, did she tell you about all the complaints I made, too? About you being a stupid dork?”

“She did,” he utters before placing a finger below your chin to avert your attention to those dazzling works you desperately avoided, “but would you still be willing to marry this stupid dork?”  

“This isn’t even a real wedding,” you feign a frown under the spotlight of his intent gaze, “why are you asking me a question like that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t have the funds to hire a real priest.” 

“You don’t need to for a fake wedding.”

“I thought you said we should be ‘ignorantly happy for one day?’” 

The bantering just never stops, does it?

“Okay, well… to answer your question,” you mutter, eyes averting to the side, “under normal circumstances…”

“Under normal circumstances…” he repeats.

“Where you aren’t engaged…”

“Where I’m not engaged…”

“And your father approved of me…”

“And my father approved of you…”

“Then yes,” you say without hesitation, eyes returning to find a newfound comfort in his relieved gaze, “yes, I would marry you.” 

“And that’s why I love you,” Jin smiles, chuckling softly. “I’ll always want to marry you.”  

And just as a nearby clock tower strikes its church bells to signal the stroke of midnight, Jin grabs the end of your necktie and pulls you in to press his lips onto yours. The body of his warmth and the acceptance of an inevitable end to your paths serve as the last page of a book never to be read again; and yet, he holds himself close, refusing to let you go. 

But when the end nears and the magic of the bells resume time once again, the two of you pull away to catch your breaths. Forehead against yours, Jin gives you one last, fleeting kiss. 

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Deja vu would be the perfect term to describe this feeling.  You can almost see yourself in the room of hundreds, stealing glances at the man from afar. It only takes one blink for you to relive the rollercoaster of jubilance and confessions and tears. In the split second of darkness, the past week flickers before you like a film reel: breaking down in the middle of the hallway right in front of Jin, staring bewilderedly at the large bouquet in the hand of a man at the office, confessing with tears that stain your face and sobs that conquer your voice, meeting the woman who had stolen your spot beside Jin, and holding him in your arms as he cries his heart out at the stroke of midnight. 

And just as quickly as the whirlwind of memories had taken you on a trek of time, your eyes flutter open to find yourself in another suffocating room of hundreds once again. 

Youngji [8:39 P.M.] Hey Y/N do you think you can visit me real quick? 

The glaring text on your phone screen glows in an otherwise dimly lit reception room. Thumb hovering over the screen, your mind goes blank. People pass by you, commotions and laughter fill every corner of the room, and you stand there frozen and affixed to the floor beside the table of food with a glass of red wine in your hands. 

“Hey, Y/N,” someone whispers into your ear and you immediately turn your phone off only to find Alex on her tiptoes, “what’s the matter?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” you respond under your breath, “it’s just that someone wants to talk to me.” 

“Well, you better hurry then,” she ushers you with a gripping hand on your left arm, “the ceremony is about to start anytime now.” 

“O-oh, okay,” you nod, allowing your footsteps to follow the momentum of her push. 

This isn’t exactly what you had planned, for the original plan involved your complete avoidance of the groom and bride, but it’s unsurprising that things never quite go your way. Nothing could quite topple you like last night’s revelation anyways. Taking a deep breath, you weave through the audience, wandering about the venue until you finally find yourself in front of a door with a “BRIDE WAITING ROOM” printed in gigantic black letters taped to it. 

Hesitantly, you knock, “hello? This is Y/N…? Youngji called for me—”

“—Y/N!” The wooden door swings wide open with a highly distressed Youngji hiding behind it. Before you can reply or even confirm the identity of the woman, her hands clutch yours and pull you into the room with a force unimaginable for a human of her size.  Practically lurching forward, a heap of air is knocked from your lungs just as the door slams closed. Coughs force their way through your throat, but Youngji wastes no time to rush to your side. “Y/N, this is an emergency! I need help!” 

“W—” you wheeze, peering up at her as you’re doubled over “—what in the world are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know,” her hands jitter as she paces back and forth, “I don’t know why I feel so… so nervous!”

“Hold on,” you frown, finally straightening your back, “that’s perfectly normal. It’s your wedding—”

“—please don’t say that word again,” she begins biting her freshly white-coated nails.

“What word? Normal? Wedding? Your—”

“—I can’t believe it’s my wedding…” she says repeatedly, hands flying to her head and disheveling her previously perfectly conditioned curls. She suddenly turns to face you, eyes wider than ever with a look that screams of an epiphany. “I-I don’t think I can go there. Y/N, I don’t think I can go out there!”

“What?!” you almost yell, flabbergasted. Recoiling from your outburst, you start much more softly this time. “Are you sure? I’m sure it’s just your nerves getting to you. You’ve been okay with it for at least a year, right?”

“Why?” her eyes widen to unprecedented diameters as she grabs your arm for support. “Is it because it’s too late? Do you think I should back out, Y/N?”

“What? No, no, no, calm down, follow me,” you shake your head, grasping her hand and guiding her to the chair in the center of the room where an entire photo shoot has been set up. Lowering yourself to a squat, you give her a squeeze as firm as the smile on your lips.  “Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s just the jitters. Everyone gets them. I’m sure Jin is freaking out in his room, too.”

“...okay,” she nods, pouting as her eyes lower to your hands that hold hers. Peering up at her from below, you can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks dolled up on this special occasion. From the extravagant poof of her princess gown to the gorgeous glow of the bride herself, you find yourself lost in a trance that burns with heart-panging jealousy. You almost miss her when she murmurs, “how are you so calm, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you raise a brow and laugh. “Why would I be nervous? I’m not the one getting married here.”  

“But… your best friend is getting married,” she shifts to get a clearer look of you but finds you with your eyes to the floor, “are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Of… of course. I’m happy for him,” you say through barely parted lips and stand to your feet before making your way to the door. “It’s not exactly traditional, but do you want me to get Jin? Maybe he can calm you down—”

“—do you know why Jin agreed to this arrangement?” 

Freezing in your tracks, you throw a glance over your shoulder to meet her distraught gaze. 

“Why are you asking me that now?”

“Because,” she blurts, clearly without thinking as words fail to follow through, “because I want your blessing! I want you to be okay with it!” 

“Blessing...?” 

“Yes,” she nods. “I can live with marrying a man I don’t love because I know I’ll come around, but I don’t think I can live knowing I’ve broken your relationship with Jin.”

Your weight shifts from your left to your right but the force of burden weighs immeasurably heavier on your very being. There’s nothing that would have prepared you for her request. Preparation, however, proves unnecessary, for your mind runs on its own and the words come to you as if rehearsal is all it's ever done. 

“I don’t think I’m in the position to grant you permission. That’s your decision and Jin’s,” you say, “and if my blessing is what you’re asking for, then I can give you it as many times as it takes to convince you. But if you’re asking for me to be okay with it, then I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you that.” 

Those are your last parting words as you slump on the wall behind you and a heavy sigh is shared between the two women on opposite sides of the door. Head low like a woman unjustly ashamed for speaking her truth, you take a deep breath with those heavy shoulders that carry the weight of a woman who had essentially cursed the joining of two hands. Nevertheless, somehow, you persist to make your way through the halls just as the ceremony begins; but as the audience settles and the light dims, something tells you the guilt that intoxicates your blood would have a longer-lasting aftermath than you had first expected. 

“Hey,” Alex leans into you, whispering, “is it just me or does Jin seem really jittery?”

“...no,” you answer, making sure to keep yourself hushed amidst a room of seated spectators. From the second bench to the front, fortunately on the opposite side of where Jin’s parents sit in the front row, you get a clear view of Jin and Youngji in between the black silhouettes of a couple heads; but anyone in the room can tell the bright studio lights and elevated platform don’t help his constantly shuffling case. “I don’t think it’s just you.”

“I see… so both the groom and bride are getting cold feet, huh?” 

“Well,” you utter, quipping, “in Jin’s case, he’d probably just say he forgot to sleep with socks on.” 

Alex turns to you with sheer confusion across her furrowed brows, “huh?” 

But before Alex could inquire further, the priest clears his throat and begins the opening ceremony. The officiality of it all, a long-dreaded image of Jin standing by another woman’s side manifesting into reality, has you subconsciously sent into a frenzy. 

“Dear Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Kim Seokjin and Heo Youngji in matrimony commended to be honorable among all…”

The clearing of his throat strikes once and hard against your chest. Each word that reverberates in the room echoes the vibrating pain in the blood pumped from a gaping wound. Your chest heaves and heaves and your lungs struggle to maintain composure, and while your breakdown may have gone unseen by the rest of the universe, you know for sure only two would catch sight of your state.

You and him. 

“...if there is any person who can show cause why they should not be joined together…”

The priest continues and the tension in the audience rises by the second of a stress-inducing prompt, but the moment Jin catches your eyes and the panic painted across it, his every attention remains on you. Guilt should’ve painted your expression now, having stolen the groom’s admiration from the rightful bride by his side, but all you can do is relish in a fleeting moment you deem the least this cruel world owed you. 

Maybe he feels the same way, because something catches in your throat like the hunch that has chills running down the nape of your neck. You don’t dare move an inch. You fear any movement would give you away, though you’re sure he already knew the second he met you halfway.

His eyes, those dazzling eyes that could single-handedly freeze any moment in time, they ask you for a permission only he could grant. 

“...let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” 

No one speaks but the thick air that engulfs every witness in the room is telling enough. Holding a shared, bated breath, everyone awaits and prays for the quick passing of this deafening silence. Your heart is pounding so hard you worry your passing out would be the one interruption to the ceremony, if not anything else. It takes everything in you to remain hidden, glued to the chair. You can hear every single movement in this room, the squeaking of a nearly retired bench, the rustling of clothes amidst a fidgeting audience, the anxious tapping of someone’s heels against the wooden floor, yet no one dares to speak now. 

The priest sighs a soft breath of relief. 

Everyone but you follows along. 

The priest clears his throat and pro—

“—I would like to speak.”

A loud gasp travels across the room. Every witness, including the priest himself, stares at the young man, wide-eyed. The knot in your throat inhibits you from following suit, but the hammer against your chest works harder than ever; because there he is, your best friend, standing boldly before the audience with a puffed chest and a tightened fist that brace for the repercussions. 

It all happens so suddenly, so swiftly. The strings that were left raveled now unraveled, the paths that were abandoned now explored, and the love of a lifetime whomst once bid you farewell now holds on with a determination that tells you they aren’t quite ready to let go, by happenstance or by conviction, everything falls into place. 

You had reprimanded yourself relentlessly for envisioning a moment like this and you truly believed this would be the worst case scenario, so why is it that only now, as your peering eyes are enamored by the sparkles in his, you find yourself smiling proudly and thinking to yourself… that’s your man. 

“Father, mother,” Jin turns to face his parents in the front row, declaring loudly and firmly, “I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.” 

“What,” Alex shrills under her breath as she clutches your hands, “what is going on, Y/N?!”

Her voice doesn’t reach you and neither do her cold, nudging hands. The ongoing commotion around the room are like white noise in your background. You can’t even spare a second of your attention to the picturesque vision before you, the man who fights not for you but for the two of you.

Jin bows, head hanging low to his parents and the audience, “I’m sorry for saying this too late.” 

Everybody watches as his mother attempts to hold her husband in place. All is in vein, however, when one look of the baffled expression on her husband’s face conveys enough to everyone of the mayhem that is soon to ensue. He rips her grip apart from his arm and storms to his feet, pointing a finger at his apologetic son.

“W—” he struggles to find his breath “—what are you saying? You said you were okay with this just last week!”

“I did,” Jin affirms with his head still hanging low, “I thought I was okay with it until this week.” 

“How—”

“—honey…” the mother murmurs.

“No, changing your mind is one thing, but changing it at the very last second is another,” his father shakes his head, yanking his hand and stumbling on his feet before his distraught son could lend a helping hand. “Did I teach you to inconvenience others like this? Do you know how much trouble you’re causing Youngji and her family?”

“I do,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

His father grunts, “don’t you see, Seokjin? ‘Sorry’ can’t fix everything—”

“—actually, Mr. Kim, it’s not just Jin,” Youngji bounces to Jin’s side then pivots to bow to her parents who sit in the row before you, “I, too, don’t want to marry anyone until I really know them.” 

Physically, the spotlight remains affixed to the stage. Mentally, it feels as though everyone’s attention is gradually creeping its way toward you. It takes everything in you and the grip of Alex’s hands not to run from the prying eyes. 

“What?” their parents gasp. “Didn’t you say you were okay with it if it were Jin?”

“I did!” she insists, suddenly retracting. “I did, until…”

“I’m sorry,” Jin lifts his head to turn to Youngji’s parents before bowing once again, “this is all my fault.”

“No, no, you wouldn’t do this... tell me, son,” his father takes a step toward the stage, beckoning for an explanation, “tell me who did this to you?” 

Jin lifts his head, brow furrowing and lips thinning as he chooses to remain silent to his father’s question. Suddenly, it’s everyone’s duty to catch the perpetrator. The audience begins craning their neck every which way to skim over the possible candidates. Your heart sends threatening waves of pain that foreshadow the inevitable chaos you’re about to be dragged into. 

You can barely move from staring at the floor in between the groom and bride but you can spot the gradual direction of his mother’s eyes making its way toward you… and when they finally spot you, a lightbulb flashing across her eyes the second you make the lethal mistake of meeting her gaze for the first time in many years, it’s as though her son’s rebellion is the only thing that makes sense in this universe. 

Only naturally, his father catches onto his partner’s maternal instincts along with the rest of the crowd as their diverged attention converges, one head turning after another, to stare you down—some with awe plastered across their jealous front, some with ghastly colors than drain their face of blood. 

“Is that… you, Y/N?” his father’s voice echoes in the room. “Seokjin, don’t tell me…”

“No, father!” Jin jumps in, holding up a defensive pair of hands as he attempts to quell the fiery in his father’s temper. Wide-eyed and panicked, he glances between you and his father. “It isn’t her fault. I swear. I”ll explain—”

“—don’t tell me you’re going through all this trouble for a childish crush from five years ago?” 

A loud shriek began the chaos the second Jin’s father exploded, lurching forward with a vexing fist. Everyone in the front rows jump to their feet to hold him back, whereas people in the back rows stand to their tiptoes to get a better view of the climactic show, which includes a once-to-be-groom insisting his father punishes him and a once-to-be-bride slapping her ex-partner in the head for his submission. 

People are hysterically laughing, crying, screaming, yelling, fighting, but you sit there, frozen and petrified, until a hand shakes your entire being to your feet. 

“Y/N, Y/N, God damn it Y/N, earth to Y/N!” Alex raises her hand, just about to give you one hard slap to the cheek when you suddenly flinch awake. She then hastily pushes you toward the door in the corner of the room whilst everyone is too distracted to notice your discreet escape. She looks you directly in the eye, “you need to run before things get too crazy. I’ll handle things here for now.” 

“But Alex, I’m at fault here—”

“—yes, I mean, maybe,” she corrects herself with the shake of her head, “but you being here doesn’t help matters. I’ll help Jin and Youngji.”

“But—”

“—now go,” she starts your momentum with an encouraging push, “go!”

Nodding, you begin your long trek of the night. You run and you run and you run. Your mind runs blank but your feet run a mind of its own. You sprint down the dimly lit streets, you pay no mind to the traffic lights of endlessly empty streets, and your hair twirls in the wind that impedes your speed down the hills. Your surroundings become a blur as your arms swing desperately, your chest heaves incessantly, your eyes sting with tears, and your lips spill anguished sounds of incoherency until somehow, under the sway of the town’s cold spring air and your flux of emotions, you find yourself in a familiar street of your greatest dreams. 

Depleted of gas, your feet stumble into a trot that has your knee nearly buckling, which then turns into a jog that then drifts into an untroubled walk in which your lungs try to catch up and your mind is scrambling at a hundred miles per hour but you, yourself, have gone elsewhere. 

The luminescence of the full moon is blinding but all the more soothing as you navigate your way through this street you’ve walked one too many times before. For some reason, perhaps out of habit or a hope for something waiting at the end of the tunnel, you begin to count each passing light post. Seven fluorescent lights, you count, seven lights resembling the rays of moonlight until you finally reach your old acquaintance of many years at the corner of the street. 

Leaning your head back to stare at the familiar white text on a green sign post, you smile at the homely sight. 

CHERRY BLOSSOM AVE

A comforting breeze blows by you, the branches above you rustle in the wind, and the cherry petals from your old pal flutter into the air to envelop you in a solace you had long sought but failed to obtain. It’s like the calm after a storm. Not quite disconnected from the string that loops around your fourth finger to those of another man’s—no, you couldn’t unravel it after all this heartache—but at least away from the prying eyes that could tear you apart and away from the people who whispered gossip of matters they had none in. 

Hours seem to pass in the clouds that retire to reveal patches of new twinkling ornaments. You would have believed it if someone were to tell you all control of time lies within the blink of your eyes. The silence was calming initially; but the longer you stand here and the more the numbness begins to fade, the more you become aware of your lonesome circumstances. 

The silence is deafening. It knows your greatest fears and your innermost thoughts. You can’t handle it. You can’t bear the thought of being left alone to that voice in your head. 

You have to go. 

Where? 

You don’t know. You just know you have to go somewhere. You can envision all the places you can run to but all the roads lead you to one destination. Yes, anywhere would be fine, anywhere that leads you to him. 

“This marks the second time you’ve ever been so enraptured by something other than me.” 

Whirling around, seconds seem to become milliseconds and gravity becomes a law unbeknownst to earth, for you can’t believe the sight your eyes lay upon. There he is, standing by the tree just a few meters away with a loosened necktie and disheveled hair, almost as if a pitiful albeit wondrous mirage crafted by your shoddy prayers to the moon above. 

“Hey dummy,” he simply utters, taking a step or two toward you before poking your forehead, “what? Why’re you staring at me like I’m a ghost?” 

“What?” you manage to say under your breath. “I’m not staring…”

“I was just joking, you know?” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t be jealous over a street post. Psh, I’m not that dumb—”

“—why…” you frown when he quirks a brow, “why are you here? How are you here?”

“Oh no, she’s gone crazy,” Jin laughs at the stupefied look you give him. “At least an hour or two has passed since you left. Somehow, I managed to sit my father down and explain myself.” 

“And… what did he say?” your hands begin fidgeting. “He must hate me, doesn’t he…”

“I wouldn’t say ‘hate,’ per se… he’s perfectly okay with you. In fact, he likes you, really. He’s just mad at how things happened. After he calmed down, though, he understood where I was coming from.” 

Cautiously, you peek at those eyes that peer down at yours, “and your mother…?”

“She said she saw it coming from a mile away. Apparently she saw us arguing at the engagement party and knew right away,” Jin purses his lips. “Psh, yeah, as if I’m that easy to read.” 

Allowing yourself the smallest of laughs, you still can’t seem to rid yourself of that panging guilt. “And… what about Youngji?” 

Jin stares intently at your expression before cracking a smile and chuckling, ruffling your hair, “don’t go crying on me now, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.” 

“But I just,” your voice cracks, “I just hate myself for ruining everything for everyone—”

“—hey,” he cups his fingers underneath your chin to lift your gaze to his, “you did not ruin anything for anyone. I did this. I chose to fight for us.” 

Hesitantly, you nod and he smiles in response. 

“Youngji’s still explaining to her family right now. She told me to find you and Alex told me you would probably here.” 

Frowning, you mutter to yourself, “how did she know…?” 

“Well,” Jin drops his hand from your chin to raise them in the air, “we did promise to swear our wedding vows here, didn’t we?” 

“So what?” you deadpan. “You’re gonna marry me now after all this mess?” 

“I know you really want to marry me as soon as possible, but I think I’m gonna have to take a break from weddings for now.” 

Rolling your eyes, you mumble, “ditto.”

“But hey, I may have already broken the third promise,” one corner of his lips curve into an apologetic smile before he shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t marry you in the future! Plus, I may or may not have promised my father I would marry you in the near future to make up for it, so...” 

Scoffing, you gawk, “and who said I would marry you?” 

“Who wouldn’t marry me?!” 

The two of you stare at each other in silence, but the mirrored grin that stretches across your lips are undeniable. Soon enough, a loud fit of giggles and cackles fill the air. It happens all too quickly. The banters come to you like second nature, the conversation flows like a river through time, and somehow you find yourself lying beside him on the blazer he had laid out on the grassy hill and star-gazing for hours on end. 

It’s almost like you’ve seen this all before, just five years aged. 

“So,” Jin speaks, “how’s your birthday been?” 

“Oh, shut the hell up.” 

“What?” he cackles, getting up to lean on his arm whilst hovering you. “You know it’s not too late to tell me what you want for your birthday!” 

“I already told you,” you narrow your eyes at him, “I wasn’t joking when I said what I said.” 

Jin smiles, “in that case…”

He leans in to diminish the distance between his lips and yours. A lulling zephyr blows gently on the cherry petals as you close your eyes and you can picture the way they gracefully descend upon the two lovers below. Having witnessed the unforeseeable promises from start to finish, it’s almost as though an old accomplice was applauding a long-awaited finale. 

And when he finally pulls away, eyelids fluttering open just as yours do, he speaks, “happy birthday.” 

“What was that for?” you giggle. 

Jin’s mouth falls agape, “I’m giving you what you wanted for your birthday!”

“Well,” you purse your lips, “where’s my ring to confirm it then?”

“After all this time, do you really need a ring at this point to confirm my love for you?” Jin rolls his eyes. “You know I’ll always want to be by your side, married or not.” 

A fit of laughs escape you as your hand reaches up to squeeze his cheeks, “I know, I know. I’m just joking.”

“Well, good, cause I’m bankrupt at the moment,” Jin sighs, plopping back onto the grass beside you. A momentary silence passes before he turns his head to look at you, “just to make sure, you said you wanted love, right?” 

Turning to meet those sparkles in his gaze, you answer, “yeah?”

“You said you wanted to feel love, right?” 

Your grin grows wider by the second, “yeah?” 

“Well,” he says, “do you feel it?” 

“I do,” you answer. “What about you? Do you feel it?”

The vows hold a truth much closer to his heart this time around, and he smiles as he swears...

“I do, too.” 

[bonjour-rainycity]

Time

Prompt: Someone’s jealous (Content Challenge Day 1)

Pairing: Hinted Legolas x Female Reader, light Boromir x Female Reader

Rating: G

Word count: 1313

Warnings: Angst (nothing too heavy)

A/n Hey everyone, welcome to Day 1 of my content challenge! You can find the challenge’s masterlist here, and my personal masterlist here. And honestly, I don’t even know what happened with this story. I had two fluffy pieces ready to go and then I read them again and realized I wasn’t ready to post them. So I opened a doc and accidentally wrote angst. Whoops! Hope you enjoy :)

Boromir entered the clearing, arms laden with firewood. With a nod towards Sam, who had volunteered to tend to the fire, he dropped the wood, retreating to a log on the edge of camp.

The exact log upon which Y/n sat.

She greeted him warmly, welcoming him back from his quick venture into the forest. Without meaning to, Legolas watched as Boromir placed a soft kiss on Y/n’s cheek, earning him a shy smile. Seeming slightly hesitant, Y/n laid her head on Boromir’s shoulder, and when he wrapped an arm around her back, Y/n relaxed, pleased that her advance was received favorably.

Legolas tore his eyes away from the budding romance, turning his back on them to help Sam with the fire.

“Oh, don’t you worry yourself with this, Mister Elf. I’ll get the fire going, I just need to find the right kindling.”

Legolas furrowed his eyebrows. “The firewood is not enough?”

Sam looked away, seeming uncomfortable with criticizing the quality of the firewood and, by extension, his friend Boromir. “I’m sure he did as best he could in the dark. Unfortunate it is though — most of the wood is too wet or covered in moss. Have you got a bit of spare paper, by chance?”

Legolas stared at the offending pile of wood. This is ridiculous, he thought. Do not volunteer to collect the firewood unless you know what you’re doing — it’s a waste of everybody’s time.

A giggle from Y/n floated to Legolas’ ear, and he couldn’t stop the frown that set in his lips. It seems it was not inexperience that caused Boromir to bring back unacceptable supplies, but distraction.

Legolas huffed in frustration, grabbing a stick at random and marching to where Boromir and Y/n sat.  

He shoved the moss-covered branch in Boromir’s direction. “This is what you came back with? Hardly any of it is usable. It is too long or half-drenched or covered in moss — it won’t burn.”

Boromir puffed out his chest, tearing his gaze away from Y/n to look upon the elf with a measure of disdain. “The wood is perfectly useable.”

Legolas clenched his teeth, caught in an unexpected flurry of anger. “It is apparent you have allowed yourself to become distracted and forget your duties. I will have to do it myself.”

He pushed past the two humans, stalking deeper into the woods.

With his elven hearing, Legolas heard Y/n’s soft and slightly alarmed voice call after him. Everything in him shouted for him to turn back, to answer her plea, but he kept his feet moving forward. Something about the camp tonight made him irrationally angry, and, stranger still, left him with an unwelcome discomfort in his chest.

He heard light footsteps behind him, and knew Aragorn was on his trail. Legolas kept walking until he was far enough away from the camp that he could no longer hear any individual voices, just a general murmur of sounds. He found a small cliff and a cluster of rocks and climbed, pleased that he found a spot that allowed him to sulk and keep an eye on the surrounding areas.

Aragorn was not far behind, and soon sat on a boulder across from Legolas.

The two sat in silence for a long while, both of their brows furrowed in thought. While Legolas contemplated the foul mood he found himself in, Aragorn struggled with how best to broach the conversation. Legolas was one of his closest friends, and he liked to think that he knew the ellon quite well. Over the past few months, it had become apparent to Aragorn that Legolas harbored affection for the human woman that accompanied their fellowship.

And it had recently become apparent to everyone that Y/n and Boromir were interested in each other.

Aragorn knew this was the reason for Legolas’ anger—he was sure of it. But how best to bring it up?

Finally, Aragorn spoke, bracing his forearms against his knees and turning towards the elf. “You know, Legolas, sometimes, when I think of Arwen in Rivendell surrounded by ellyn, I get a little stressed out.”

Shame gathered in Legolas’ gut. He felt quite guilty for being so dramatic when it was obvious Aragorn needed to talk. He mustered what he hoped was an encouraging smile, and laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, trying to provide reassurance. “Do not be worried, mellon nin, elves love only once. If Arwen has chosen you, there is no threat from other ellon.”

Aragorn looked to the ground briefly. He hadn’t expected to have to try again.

He took a second to regroup. “Right. Thank you for that. But uh, if I were to see her in another’s arms, or see her flirt with them, even, that would make me very upset. And that’s to be expected, really. It only means I love her, and I wish for her to want me only.” The line between Legolas’ brow deepened, and Aragorn continued eagerly, hoping his friend was catching on. “It would hurt me to see the woman I love being affectionate with someone else.”

Legolas’ mouth set into a hard line, and his eyes widened. Aragorn nearly laughed in relief. Finally.

“Has Arwen been unfaithful?”

No! So close!

Aragorn bit back a curse, and Legolas took this as confirmation.

He sat back on his heels, his features encompassed by disbelief. “This is unheard of from an elf, though perhaps it is the influence of her human lineage. I admit, it pains me greatly to think her capable of such a thing. But do not fret, mellon nin, I will stand by your side through this.”

“No, Legolas,” Aragorn groaned, laying a hand on the elf’s shoulder, causing him to look Aragorn in the eye. Time to try again. More overt, this time. “Arwen has never been unfaithful, nor do I sense that quality in her.” Legolas relaxed in clear relief, and Aragorn allowed himself a deep breath before continuing. “I only meant to say, that if I had romantic feelings for someone…and I saw them engaging in displays of romantic affection with someone other than me….” Aragorn saw the moment realization began to dawn in Legolas’ eyes, and he felt a strong pang of sorrow for his friend. He forced himself to continue, knowing that Legolas needed to acknowledge these feelings in order to deal with them. “It would make me feel sad, and hurt, and probably angry and frustrated, too…and that’s okay. I think it would be especially difficult if I did not realize that I had these feelings of affection for her, until she was in the arms of another.”

Legolas seemed to sag, dropping his head and letting his elbows rest on his knees. The two sat in silence for a moment as Legolas took deep breaths, unused to feeling such frustration and grief. After what seemed like quite a long time, Legolas raised his eyes to Aragorn’s.

“How did you know? I did not even know.”

Aragorn gave a small shrug, hating that he couldn’t be of more help to his hurting friend. “You look at her in the same way I look at Arwen — with complete devotion. You’d give up your title for her, lay down your life for her…do anything and everything you could to make her safe and happy.”

Legolas tried to protest. “I want safety and happiness for any of you.”

Aragorn held up a hand to stop him. “It’s different and you know it.”

Legolas sighed, feeling defeated. “I don’t want to love a human. Especially a taken human.”

“Just be there for her, look out for her as her friend. And you never know. Give it time.”

Legolas clenched his teeth together against the onslaught of despair. “She is human, Aragorn. Time is something she does not have.”

A/n Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) Let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list! 

[platypanthewriter]

No Expectations

Just an idea that wouldn’t git, so I wrote it.  Maybe it’ll leave me alone?

Steve’s eye caught on the new guy tending bar at Harvey’s, and he nearly broke his nose dropping the pint glass into his face.  Billy Hargrove wasn’t the very last person he’d expected to run into trying to get another round, he thought—Hitler might might have been more surprising, or Ronald Reagan—but he stared all the same, until Billy looked up and grinned.

“Seen a ghost, Harrington?” he asked, and Steve felt like an idiot for wanting to nod—he knew Max’s brother had made it out of Starcourt Mall, and into intensive care, and then weeks of physical therapy—they’d all taken turns as moral support, helping her pick out awful presents.    

Steve swallowed.  “Max said you left.  ‘Cause your dad’s an asshole.”

“Don’t forget monsters,” Billy grunted, pouring shots with a spin of his wrist, and sliding them across the counter to someone and her gang of friends.  “Dunno why you all didn’t get the hell out of—”

“Why come back?!” Steve asked, not because he minded Hawkins, but because of the thick scars across Billy’s shirtless chest.  He tried to remember what they’d talked about, the last time he’d taken Max, Lucas, and Dustin to sit around Billy’s bed, the day before he left.  

Billy glanced at Steve’s face, then lowered his eyes to the glass he was drying.  “Max needs a roommate while she gets her degree, so I’m back.”

“Oh,” Steve nodded, spinning his empty beer glass against the counter.  Billy’d laughed, startling both of them, when Steve had helped him get to the bathroom, and he’d nearly fallen.  He’d been heavy—and warm, from his blankets, Steve remembered—and Steve had grabbed him with both arms, asking whether he was okay.  Billy had started laughing into his shoulder, muttering “shit, shit, sorry, shit,” the whole way down the hall, and left the next morning.  “You didn’t say anything,” Steve told his glass, and wished he hadn’t, because it sounded childish once it was out of his mouth.

Billy paused in his plucking of mint leaves to look up.  “...what did you—”

“Nothing,” Steve cut him off, looking at the boy who’d shoved him around, hit him with a plate, and nearly died trying to save Eleven.  “Nothing.”  He stood up to pull his coat back on, and Billy half-fell across the counter, knocking over the ketchup and pepper shaker to grab Steve’s glass.  

“On the house,” he said, running to the taps, and Steve opened his mouth to tell him what he’d been drinking, then let him fill it with Bud Lite.  “On the house,” Billy repeated, running back to smack it down in front of Steve, so the suds lapped over the edge.  “Sorry,” he panted, grabbing it back and wiping the glass.  “Here.”

“...okay,” Steve bit his lip, but sat back down, and whover was next to him slammed a fist on the counter, yelling.  Billy got them drinks while Steve contemplated his free beer.  

He was a third through it by the time Billy stopped in front of him again.  “...so,” he said, and Steve snorted.

“You got something to say?” he volleyed back, and Billy laughed, shaking his head.  

“Guess I’ll see you around,” he said, flashing a smile.

Steve tipped his head back and drained the glass, and a shot glass slid out of Billy’s hand and clattered to the floor.  Steve stood on the side bars of the stool to lean over the bar, watching Billy scramble around with an arm under the cupboards.  “...maybe you should learn to bartend,” he suggested, and Billy flipped him off.

“Order a real drink, Harrington—”

“Have to be up early,” Steve told him, grinning down.  “Bet you get to sleep in.”

“You wanna know?” Billy pushed himself up, his back and shoulders flexing, and Steve swallowed.  Billy brushed off his jeans.  “I’m off in two hours,” he said.  “If you…”

“What?” Steve asked, feeling strangled.

“If you want to catch up,” Billy said, shrugging, and Steve blinked.

“Um, you’ve been—Max probably told you everything.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, okay,” Billy shrugged, backing away, and Steve smacked his hands on the counter.  

“No, wait, yeah, let’s—let’s catch up!” he said, too loud, and Billy laughed.

 That night he sucked Steve off in the parking lot, against his station wagon, and Steve garbled “Holy shit,” and “What the hell” and “You’re so good at this” into a stream of gibberish, sinking to land on his butt on the gravel.  

“...some kinda catching up,” Steve panted, his knees on either side of Billy’s. 

“Mmn,” Billy leaned in, heavy against Steve’s chest, kissing up the side of his neck.

“Your place or mine?” Steve whispered, and Billy stilled, then laughed.

“Can’t get enough of me?” he asked, and Steve snorted.

 The next morning, Steve got dressed, brushed his teeth, and then crawled back over the covers, kissing Billy’s shoulder and the side of his head as he laughed, curling deeper into the blankets.  “You haveta work today?” Steve whispered, and Billy rolled to blink up at him.

“Mmpf?” Billy asked, squinting up.  “...why?”

“I’ll be done in an hour or two,” Steve told him, letting his thumb rasp against Billy’s stubble.  “Want me to bring back some food?”

Billy stared up at him for a second, then nodded.  “If you want to come back here.”

“Do you have to work?” Steve asked again.  “I can make myself scarce.”

“Nah, I can go again,” Billy propped himself up on his elbows.  “Kick me awake later.”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve rolled his eyes, and leaned in for a kiss Billy dodged.

“Morning breath, asshole,” Billy whispered.  “Hey.”  

“Mmn?” Steve asked, standing on one leg to tie his shoes.  

“Wait, dickbird, tell me you love me, if we’re gonna play house.” 

Steve leaned on the bed again to shove his blanketed bulk, but leaned in to smack a kiss on Billy’s head.  “See you later, babe, love you, g’bye,” he said dryly, and Billy rolled away, groaning into his pillow.

 When he showed up later, Billy was sitting on the arm of the couch, peeling the label off a beer bottle at eleven am.  “Didn’t know whether to lube up or set out the candles and tablecloth,” he said, laughing, and Steve walked around for another kiss.  

“Honey, I’m home,” he told Billy, who pressed up against him, wrapping a leg around Steve’s butt.  “Daydrinking without me?”

“Welcome back,” Billy whispered, grabbing Steve around the shoulders and falling back onto the couch, so they landed in a pile of limbs.  “Thought maybe you stood me up.”

“In sickness and in health, right,” Steve said against the skin of Billy’s throat, and Billy grabbed him tighter.

“You’re so goddamn weird,” Billy laughed.  “How long you gonna play house with the town fag?”

“What?” Steve stopped mid kiss, breathing against the buzz of Billy’s voice in his throat.

“No, nevermind,” Billy snorted.  “I’ll get it when you stop returning my calls, right.”

Steve pushed himself up, doing a pushup to stare down at Billy Hargrove’s grinning face.  “What?  You—”

“Ssh,” Billy pulled him down again, and in the ensuing kisses, Steve forgot what he’d wanted to say.

 Every so often Billy’d ask again—“How long’re we gonna play house, Harrington?” and Steve would stop to ask what that even meant, and Billy would distract him again, and demand flowers, chocolates, or a welcome-home kiss.  

He didn’t even seem to know what to do with flowers, Steve realized—he just stood staring at them, until Steve rescued them back, cut off the ends, and filled the blender with water as the closest thing to a vase.  For Valentine’s Day, he brought over the biggest, pinkest, sparkliest heart-shaped box he could find, and licked melted chocolate off Billy’s abs, thighs, and eventually, everywhere else.  The next day, he replaced the sheets.

 When Steve sped over from work and walked in on lit candles, covered dishes, and Billy pulling garlic bread out of the oven, Billy said, “Five month anniversary, right?”

Steve tried to remember what day it even was, kicking his shoes off, and Billy laughed, backing away.  

“Just playing,” he said quickly.  “Just playing house.”

“I like playing house,” Steve told him, sliding in his socks across the linoleum to kiss Billy’s neck where he was bent, frowning into the tinfoil.  “Need to talk to you about that.”

“...thought you might,” Billy said, stopping his inspection to clench his fists against the edge of the counter.  “What?”

“Kinda silly, us both having houses,” Steve said, the way he’d practiced in the mirror.  He slid a hand under Billy’s shirt, stroking his thumb over Billy’s taut muscles.  He felt a scar, and grabbed Billy’s hips to turn him, suddenly needing to get his face under Billy’s shirt and kiss his skin.  

“What—what are you saying,” Billy asked hoarsely.

“Don’t like it when you’re not there at night,” Steve told him, looking up from where he knelt on the floor.  “I roll over and there’s this cold space where you aren’t.”

“Holy shit,” Billy said, and he started laughing, but his eyes went all red and shiny, so Steve didn’t mind.  

“I have a garage,” Steve said persuasively, and Billy snorted, coughing.

“That’s your offer?  A garage.”

“You could wash your Camaro and the rain wouldn’t ruin the wax,” Steve tried.  “And there’s no stairs.  I know you hate hauling groceries up here.”

Billy just kept snickering, leaning back against the counter, and Steve bit his lip.  

“Or if you like it better here,” he surrendered, and Billy laughed harder, sinking down to the floor.  Steve wasn’t that attached to his house, he thought.  “I would do all the dishes,” he offered, and Billy tilted to lean against him, burying his face in Steve’s neck.  

“You’re bargaining with me,” he whispered, and Steve shrugged, beginning to wish he hadn’t said anything.

“You can just tell me where to shove it,” Steve forced a laugh, and it came out sharp.  “We can eat.”

“I get to sleep in your bed, though, right,” Billy whispered, sniffling.  “Not the garage.”

“What the hell,” Steve whispered back.  “Don’t make me bite you.”

“Go ahead,” Billy laughed.  “I’m yours.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Steve told him, yanking them both to their feet, so he could slap the keys he’d made into Billy’s hand.  “You want to, right?”

Billy nodded, standing there in the kitchen, holding the keys out and staring down through them.  “I—I want to.  I want to.  Are—are you sure you…”

“What?!” Steve asked, assessing the bread—it looked fine—and sliding it onto the prepared plate.  

“This—this is what you want?!” Billy asked, probably waving at himself like an asshole, and Steve kept his eyes on the precarious stack of bread, spinning to kick Billy lightly in the shin.  

“Stop sounding like you’re the discount version of something,” Steve told him, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he bore the bread out to the table.  “Yeah, I want to fucking play house, come play house with me.  Forever.”

“That sounds kind of ominous,” Billy said, his voice shaky.

“Gonna play the hell out of this house,” Steve muttered, and Billy started laughing again, leaning against his shoulder.  

“Feed me bread,” he commanded, and Steve shoved him, but pulled him back again after grabbing a slice.  “Honey.  Babe.  Lover,” Billy whispered, and Steve shoved the bread in his mouth, feeling his face heat.  

“Hurry up and eat, sweetums,” he whispered back, and Billy choked, coughing.  

 The first morning Steve awoke to sharing a house with Billy Hargrove, he was gone from the bed, and Steve stomped petulantly down to find him naked, in an apron, making breakfast.

He laughed until he cried.

[fungus-amongus00]

What about an au that Stans about how “weird” “Old man mucket” is and Ford askes about him, then Stan is confused but tells him where he lives and ford talks to his bud for the first time in a long time.

I am so sorry if this is confusing :(

No confusion here! I gotcha ^^ Hope you like it! FEELINGS TIME

Stanford remembered hearing it that morning and nearly dropping his coffee in the process. It had been the mention of a name he had forgotten about momentarily. After all, in all his travels across the multiverse, small things like that were bound to slip his mind. However, the fact that it brought about such a sudden reaction had shown that the memory was not entirely gone. It was still very much a part of him, and hearing that name, brought about a multitude of emotions. The strongest one wracking his brain was of….regret. 

“Hey, kids. Did you see the latest video on Bramble? Man, I swear, that Old Man McGucket keeps getting crazier and crazier. I dunno what he’s gonna do next,” Stanley laughed and then even harder when Mabel showed him another video. 

“I mean, yeah, it’s funny, but I feel kind of bad for the guy. He lives by himself near the dump, and no one’s tried to, you know, help him at all?” Dipper added, sipping on his strawberry milk. 

“Ah, lighten up, kid. As far as I know, that’s just..how he lives. He doesn’t seem like he’s unhappy or anything.” Stanley did stop laughing momentarily. Of course Dipper always had to be the realist just like someone else he knew. He finally noticed Ford standing in the doorway, looking like he was about to pass out. “Sixer? You all good over there?” 

“Oh, no, Grunkle Ford! You dropped your mug.” Mabel hurried over to scoop it up. Luckily, it wasn’t one of the ceramic ones and didn’t break upon impact. It took Stanford a couple of seconds before he registered she was grabbing paper towels to clean up the mess. 

“Terribly sorry, Mabel. I zoned out for a moment there,” he apologized, helping her sop it up before it spread to the rug. “I just...you guys were talking about Fiddleford Hadron McGucket...right?” 

Stanley raised an eyebrow. How the hell did those two know each other?

“Wait, how do you know his full name?” 

“Did you not read his journals, Grunkle Stan? McGucket was his assistant in his research. He was...a genius, really,” Dipper said with a concerned look towards Ford. “I would’ve done something, but..I’m not exactly sure how to help him. He lost a lot of his memory.” 

“You said he lives over by the dump, right?” As soon as Dipper said “yes” in response, Ford was out of there in about five seconds flat, dashing off towards the dump. 

“Ooh! Should we follow him, Dipper? Maybe Grunkle Ford can get the old Fiddleford back!” Mabel gasped. By the look in her eyes, Dipper could tell she had already made up her mind. 

As soon as she ran off, Dipper sighed and grabbed his backpack. He’d really hear it from both Mabel and Grunkle Stan if he didn’t go with. “Uh, be back in a bit, Grunkle Stan!” 

Stanford didn’t stop running until he got to McGucket’s shack. In hindsight, he could’ve had Stan drive him, but this was urgent. He gasped when he saw where he was living. Oh, Fiddleford… He felt that guilt hanging heavy on his chest again. How long had he gone on not even knowing he was here? Of course, he had only recently returned to this dimension, but still! How could he forget about the person most dear to him. The person who….he betrayed..for an interdimensional demon with empty promises. For a moment, he stopped himself as he started walking up to the shack. If his memories returned...would he hate him still? He wouldn’t blame Fiddleford if he never wanted to see him again.

Mustering some courage, Stanford took a deep breath and continued onwards to what sort of resembled a door. A six fingered fist lingered at it a moment before tentatively knocking. He heard rustling from within before a raccoon bolted out of there, making him jump and nearly fall over. Was a raccoon his only company now?? His heart nearly stopped when Fiddleford stood in the doorway, his beard all the way down to his feet and what looked like...a bandage on his beard? Stanford wasn’t about to question it. Fiddleford stared blankly at him before saying, “Well, howdy, there! Can I help you with somethin’?” 

The words caught in Stanford’s throat for a moment. There was so, so much he wanted to say, mostly “I’m sorry, so sorry,” but he held it back. He didn’t know how much of his memory was missing, but given his living conditions, and the fact that he wasn’t completely pissed at him right now, he’d say a lot. He held up a six fingered hand in a wave, putting on his best smile even though his body simply didn’t want to, no matter how much it hurt. 

“Hey, Fiddleford. I’m an...old friend, Stanford Pines. Do you..remember me at all?” 

Fiddleford seemed utterly confused. He “hmm’d” to himself, scratching his beard and looking Stanford over. It got to the point where it seemed to be causing him physical pain, finally stopping with a groan. “Aw, sorry, there. Can’t seem to recall your name, but you’re that new scientist guy that arrived here in Gravity Falls, right? Sorry if I’m wrong. My memory ain’t what it used to be, you know?” 

Stanford let out a sigh and an understanding nod. He figured this was probably going to be the case. Perhaps, he needed some stimuli to get things going. 

“It’s alright, Fiddleford. I know you’ve been through a lot...trust me, I do, so I hope you don’t mind this.” 

Taking a breath, Stanford reached out to place his hands on Fiddleford’s shoulders, slowly drawing him into a hug. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Fiddleford. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for everything that happened. I should’ve put my trust in you, not Bill. Driving you away is one of my deepest regrets. Even in other dimensions, it haunted me in my dreams. I wish...I wish I could take that hurt away, but we both know even the memory gun isn’t perfect. Memories don’t simply disappear, right, Fidds?” In that moment, he didn’t think about if Fiddleford didn’t know what he was talking about. All that mattered now was that he was hugging him again. He didn’t need forgiveness. It was the closure that he’d get at least. 

For a minute, Fiddleford stayed still, but he slowly wrapped his arms around Stanford, sighing softly. Just feeling safe in his arms and his familiar scent, he felt a rush of memories coming back to him, especially with the use of his old nickname Stanford often called him back then. He glanced over when he felt Stanford trembling, tightening his grip on his shirt. His head..well, really hurt, especially at the fact that Stanford was here and in his arms. 

“It was a tough time for both of us. And you know, I forgive you, Stanford. It’s been far too long for me to hold onto a grudge now.” 

Stanford gasped when he heard him call him by his name. Were his memories..returning? Was his hypothesis correct? Tears started to run down his cheeks as he cupped Fiddleford’s face with trembling hands. “Fidds….you really remember me? I-I mean, you shouldn’t forgive me. I betrayed you. You were the person I was closest to, and I turned my back on you, drove you mad enough to use the memory gun on yourself. I..I don’t think I deserve it..” 

“Oh, Stanford,” Fiddleford chuckled, looking up at him with the softest smile. “What matters is learning from your mistakes. Obviously, you found out the truth about Bill and his intentions, and you worked hard to correct your mistakes. Like I said, it’s been too long for me to hold onto a grudge, right, old buddy?” 

He winced a bit when another headache and rush of memories came on. “Ah, look at this. You’re sparking so many lost memories o’ mine. It’s like magic!” 

Stanford let out a choked laugh, having to remove his glasses a moment to wipe away his tears. 

“Yeah, it kind of is. I would say magic doesn’t actually exist, but..I’ve seen far too much to say that anymore. Plus, Mabel would probably kick me in the shin if she heard me say that.” After taking a moment to collect himself, Stanford offered his hand to Fiddleford. “How about we find a place to chat and catch up? My brother actually turned the old cabin into a tourist trap of sorts, but it’s a good place to hang out in. And really? A shack, Fidds?” 

“Hey, don’t blame me! I lost my mind, literally!” Fiddleford teased and accepted Stanford’s hand. The warm touch of it was something he really had missed. 

“OH MY GOD, GRUNKLE FORD! That was sooo cute! I actually started crying myself,” Mabel squealed from a nearby bush as she tumbled out of it followed by Dipper. “Oh my gosh! You guys are literally the cutest!” 

“Mabel...they just met again after...a really long period of time,” he said, having forgotten the exact number. “How about we give them some space?” 

“Oh, yes, yes. Space is important, but afterwards you guys have to tell me everything!” 

Stanford chuckled as he watched her drag Dipper off, guiding Fiddleford along. Things were still a little...awkward, but he was sure they’d regain their footholds in their relationship again. Things were a little different now, but after all these years, Fiddleford was still Fiddleford, and that was enough for him.

[midnightprelude]

An Orlesian Interview

I’ve been going through all of Lethendralis’s old posts on her OC Eris Hawke and found this wonderful little gem. I couldn’t not do it for Aryll as a warm up for DA DWC! Tagging forward to @thesaltyhealer and @faerieavalon as well as anyone who’d like to play! :)

Aryll of Clan Lavellan, warrior, budding mage, Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, and High Chancellor and her (bodyguard? manservant? friend? remember to clarify later) apostate mage Solas were supposed to be on holiday in Orlais. To their dismay, they have been cornered by an incessant Orlesian journalist in Val Royeaux and sat down in a secluded garden alcove for an interview. Aryll remembers that she had agreed to this meeting months ago, but it had slipped her mind. Aryll decides not to mention this fact to Solas. Solas seems to already be well aware.

1. What’s your name?

Were you not the one who asked me for this interview? I would think that a journalist would do a touch of research before asking their subjects questions.

[The journalist blanches]

[Solas eyes her curiously]

[Aryll laughs] Oh, I’m just kidding! You Orlesians are so serious. I’m Aryll, born from Clan Lavellan. I’m sure you’ve heard of me and my many names. I shall not bore you by listing them all out.

2. Do you know why you are named that?

Aryll? I’m an elf. We like vowels and odd spellings of things.

[Solas adds: Ari means circle in Elvhen and el means our. Literally her name means “our circle”, but as the circle is the center of all magical runes, the metaphorical meaning is something along the lines of “our world”.]

[She looks at him, head tilted to the side] You’ve never told me that! That’s exceedingly lovely.

[He nods, smiling and adds: As are you.]

[A hint of blush colors her cheeks]

3. Are you single or taken?

[She laughs heartily] What do you think?

4. Have any abilities or powers?

My disarming wit. And this four foot long blade. I can also do some barrier work and simple conjuring, but I’m no great mage.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

I would like to point out the exceptional number of male characters who appear flawless that are not called out for being so. It is typically women, I will have you note that, bear the responsibility of being flawed, likeable, exceptionally beautiful, and also perfect in every way. It is an unattainable paradox. If we come up short, we are derided. If we achieve greatness, we are again brought low.

I must correct your misconception of me. You should not believe all of the stories. I err as much as any other. I anger quickly, I forgive too easily, and I am hopelessly naïve to believe that I can change the world. If not for my companions, I would be dead a thousand times over. I am not the best warrior, the strongest mage, the quickest study, or the greatest leader. But I do surround myself with those who are, so it is easy to mistake me for such.

6. What’s your eye color?

Green or blue, depending on the lighting and my mood. Solas swears they go red when I’m angry, but I’ve never seen it.

7. How about your hair color?

Light blonde, bordering on white. If it wasn’t apparent.

[Solas takes her hand in his and she visibly relaxes.]

8. Have any family members?

My Keeper, Deshanna, raised me after my parents were killed by humans. She taught me that love was more important than vengeance, a lesson that took my entire childhood to learn.

The rest of my family is the one that I chose. Solas and I have built a life together, traveling Thedas and trying to make it a better world. My dearest friends, Eris and Fenris, and their daughter Ariadna are the closest I have to family otherwise. As well as those who served with me in the Inquisition and those who serve my country.

9. Oh? How about any pets?

[She laughs] We were gifted a puppy, Mirae, after a particularly harrowing experience. She imprinted on Solas and will hardly leave his side.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like.

Inanities.

[Solas frowns, looking at her]

So serious, again! I hate oppression in all of its forms. Clearly. I’ve spent much of my life trying to stomp it out.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

[She tilts her head towards Solas]

[The apostate chuckles]

[The interviewer shifts uncomfortably]

12. Have you hurt anyone in any way before?

If you’d believe the stories, I’ve killed a high dragon with my own two hands!

[Solas adds: She did do that.]

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

You really should have done some reading on me, shouldn’t you? I killed Corypheus, for starters. Though I’m not sure I’d consider what he was as a person.

14. What kind of animal are you?

Hmm, probably something majestic, like a phoenix.

[She turns to Solas] Thoughts?

[He adds: She’s a cat. Just try waking her up in the morning.]

Hey! As I recall, you don’t like to wake up either?

[He nods and adds: I am also a cat.]

15. Name your worst habits?

[Aryll and Solas speak simultaneously:]

I am too hopeful.

She forgives too easily.

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

My Keeper.

[She turns to Solas] And him.

[His eyes widen and he adds: No… You shouldn’t… I am no model of anything]

[She laughs] The way you look in leather makes me quite disagree on your modeling skills. [She winks]

[His face reddens considerably]

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

I can be convinced of nearly anything.

18. Do you go to school?

Certainly not. Though I’ve never stopped learning.

19. Ever want to marry and have any kids one day?

[She stiffens visibly] I am married. As for the other question…

[She stares at Solas, eyes wide]

[He squeezes her hand and adds: You don’t need to answer that question, vhenan]

[She nods] Let’s move on.

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

[She rolls her eyes] Yes, thanks to those fools in the Chantry. I mean…[She looks around]

21. What are you most afraid of?

Losing those I love.

22. What do you usually wear?

Silk, if I’m not fighting. It’s dreadfully comfortable.

23. What one food tempts you?

[She giggles] Sangria

24. Am I annoying you?

Wow, you really can read a room!

25. Well, it’s still not over!

[She grins] Nobody can keep me against my will. That’s sort of where I am in life.

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

I was born of nothing and now I have more than I could ever want.

27. How many friends do you have?

The perfect number. I would take a crossbow bolt for each and every one of them.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

Fruit pies, sure. Meat pies, no thank you.

29. Favourite drink?

I was spoiled with Tevinter wine for many years and I find it hard to go back.

30. What’s your favourite place?

Arlathan. And the Fade.

[The interviewer stares] The… Fade?!

[She nods] I’ve had some of my best sex there.

[The interviewer’s eyes widen]

[Solas shrugs]

31. Are you interested in anyone?

My husband.

[The interviewer looks confused]

Are you an idiot?

[Solas laughs before adding: she is referring to me. You thought I was her servant, didn’t you?]

[The interviewer looks for an escape route]

32. That was a stupid question…

[Aryll lightly fingers the pommel of her greatsword]

33. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

It was a long time before I had ever seen the ocean. One day, I hope to live there.

34. What’s your type?

…seriously?

35. Any fetishes?

[She winks at Solas] Sweets and light bondage

36. Who is who in that scenario?

And spoil that for your imagination? I would never.

37. Camping indoors or outdoors?

I’ll take an evening under the stars or one warm in a bed. I am not particular and have grown accustomed to both.

Are we free to go now? We have tickets to see an Orlesian opera and your people put on such the show.

[She pushes her chair back, stands, and wraps her arm through Solas’s. She walks away without a glance back.]

[The interviewer frowns and sighing, picks up his papers, and exits the garden.]

[ninaahelvar]

Chivalry Fell On Its Sword - Gendrya Fic (1/?)

Summary: All Arya wanted so to feel normal and go outside of the damn castle. Now, through a series of unfortunate, she's stuck with a bodyguard that she accidentally flirted with: Gendry Waters.

AO3

A/N: this was made specifically for my friend @wetbreadofficial, and I didn't really plan on posting it but Gendrya was making me sad and I wanted happy gendrya content (also, this was only mildly beta'd, so if there are mistakes....my bad)

“Shit,” Arya cursed, trying to snatch the bag from the narrow opening in the gate. It had been caught in the gap, but she couldn’t take any other exit in her escape.

“Oh, just come loose, you fucking bitch,” she snapped, wrenching the bag back until she went tumbling back onto her ass. To herself, she hissed before she laughed, standing up to rub at the sore spot on her back. But she was free! The little pain she had meant nothing to her now.  

Arya had slipped past the guards for what felt like the millionth time. She wasn’t good at following rules - ever since she was little, Arya snuck away from guards and security, making sure she had the most fun a normal girl her age would. Being royalty, and certainly not the next in line for the throne, was incredibly boring and a rigid existence. All she wanted to do was play soccer and practice kickboxing, and do fun, adventurous things. But that wasn’t ladylike. She had to wear dresses, and be presentable like her sister.

But Arya wasn’t her sister. She was her own bloody person, and ever since she reached her teens, rebelling was the one thing she was incredibly good at. School may not have been her strong suit, but she was smart, she was tough, and she was ruthless when she needed to be. When her late teens came, a university education expected, there was nothing that interested her. So, she told her father that is wasn’t for her - she wasn’t going to be her sister. Ned was good with her, letting her follow her path. She was never going to be a queen - she could live a relatively normal life.

In the press, Arya was thoroughly regarded as the mysterious young stark. Robb was the next king, his role, clear as day, and he kept his chin up and eyes focused on his task. Jon was their orphaned cousin, adopted by their father when his parents passed - he was nowhere in line for the throne, but he was Robb’s closest advisor on certain military matters. Sansa was the perfect picture of all princesses, prim and proper like every girl was supposed to be - caring and giving to the people. Bran was the budding theology professor if his future university studies went the way he wanted - Cambridge was excited to have him. Rickon - well, he was like every other sixteen year old, a weird kid that had no real vision beyond playing rugby whenever he could.

Arya, was elusive. Press days, she was in photos, stood beside her mother or father, but never stayed long. She had found the back passages throughout the palace, and knew the right time to slip the gaze of even her finely turned mother.

It was hard to explain why, but Arya liked being hidden. Ever since she was a child, seeing her siblings made her want to be invisible. It was easier to hide when the eldest sister was beautiful and smart, everything the country wanted a princess to be. All Arya ever wanted to do was play like her brothers. When it came time for university or military service optional, Arya nearly jumped at the opportunity to get into a fight. But she lacked the skill, body structure and height to be fit for military action.

And it crushed her.

She worked as a military aid for some time, a short stint flying into warzones, but never seeing any action beyond it. She trained hard to be a pilot, finding the pits an alternative to getting into a physical fight, but it wasn’t enough. There was nothing wrong with being a pilot, but she much prefered the ground. But that’s what royalty was for, no real action unless you’re a man, and the mechanics and driving is left to the women - if they even wanted to.

So, all in all, Arya’s time with the royal air force and military wasn’t what she wanted, and everything else seemed tedious. Arya wanted more from her life, a grand purpose - she was bound to slay enemies, rule like an ancient king and have her name plastered in everyone’s memory. But what she was left with was a skirt she hated to wear, and make up that was always rubbed off her face. With those hated skirts.

Arya was known around the area. Of course as royalty, but mainly as the princess that often snuck into their town and milled about, going to any store and perusing for a few hours of her freedom. Not many people brought up her royal lineage, apart from those that she hadn’t visited before. The first explanation often gave them enough to leave her alone if she came back. And she always did.

She had managed to make it into town, no alarm bells, a few texts, but at least there weren’t any calls. When she got called by her mother, she knew it was time to get back to the castle.

On this particular day of her escape, she went to the gym. The palace wasn’t exactly equipped with the machines she wanted, nor did it allow her freedom of looking at new surroundings instead of her tired old home. What she didn’t expect when she returned from changing into her workout gear was the head of security, Brienne Tarth, exercising on a pec flye machine, pulling her arms together and letting them stretch apart.

Ducking her head down, Arya tried to move past her, but the ferocious, and terrifyingly tall woman spotted her the minute her arms came apart. “Your highness! You are not allowed out of the palace without -” She was practically shouting across the gym and Arya rolled her eyes, shifting her weight onto the side of her hip.

“Brienne,” Arya said, quirking her eyebrow. The head of security sighed, letting the weight machine buckle and slide back into place.

“You are...one exhausting girl,” she huffed, rummaging through her bag. “Are you coming to train?” she questioned, finding a towel to wipe sweat from the back of her neck. She stood, her height even more intimidating than it was before, but Arya raised her chin to stare back at the woman.

“I just wanted to exercise a bit and walk around the town.”

“Did you leave -”

“Yes,” Arya replied, knowing the question. Brienne huffed, throwing her towel into her bag.

“I really shouldn’t have put Podrick on your detail,”

“You really set him up for failure,” Arya shrugged and Brienne shook her head.

“Poor boy.”

“I’m going to get to it,” Arya said, pointing towards the treadmill. Brienne started to pack up her things, slugging her duffle bag onto her shoulder.

“Be back by eight. I don’t need to explain to your mother why you’re not at home again.” Brienne began

“And you can’t lie to the Queen,” Arya reminded, the failed attempts of Brienne lying because of Arya’s begging had not slipped either of their memories. “I’ll try!” she called, walking towards her machine.

She knew Brienne would protest - say she should be better than trying, but there was no arguing with Arya. She was a free spirit, and time frames were not how she lived.

Working out until her legs nearly buckled and her arms tired far too quickly, she quickly showered. Wandering from the changing rooms, Arya pulled her hair up, trying to fit it into a loose ponytail. Instead, she was practically floored when a wall of a chest got in her way. He nearly knocked her straight off balance, his hands gripping onto her elbows.

“Shit, sorry,” a deep voice apologised. Arya rebalanced, stepping away from him and looked him over, ready to be pissed. But something in her froze, like a schoolgirl suddenly realising her crush just walked into the room. Yet, she’d never met this man before. He wasn’t tall, but he was taller than her - which wasn’t an accomplishment. His head was shaved, as though it were all the way down to the scalp once, but the budding hair was coming through again. Across his jaw small stubble grew, and close by was the smirk of a cocky man.

“Didn’t see you there,” he said, suddenly looking straight forward then down. A smile crack straight across his face, as though he was keeping in a wanted laugh.

“Is that a dig at my height?” Arya raised an eyebrow, waiting for his reply.

The man swallowed, ducking his head down as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I could barely see you were in the room,” he said, a smirk at the edge of his lip.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re not very nice to strangers?” she pointed out, and the man cleared his throat, repositioning his stance, as though to gain the upper hand.

“No, but you didn’t let me finish. I was going to say, I could barely see you, now it’s impossible to look away,” he replied, his mouth ajar slightly as his tongue darted out to lick at his lips. Arya huffed out a laugh, taking a step in, and knocking the man off his guard.

“You need to get better at that,” she replied, looking up at him.

He straightened out his shoulders. “What?”

“Flirting. You’ve got the face for it too, your lines just need a little work,” she said, pushing past his shoulder, going towards the exit.

“Noted,” he called out. Arya waved over her shoulder, turning back to briefly to catch him staring. It was oddly refreshing for her - to let herself flirt so openly and not care. She had done it before, but she’d always had a lingering eye catching her and ushering them away before they could even think of getting near a princess. Arya liked being...just Arya.

Captured in a moment, she was just Arya. Not Arya of House Stark. But the moment she pushed the door open, she was the princess again, wandering a town which she shouldn’t have been.

Finding, only a few streets away, a coffee shop, Arya went inside and set up her laptop. She wasn’t doing anything for university - one would have to go in order to do work for it - or even looking up things on her family as some sort of pride thing. Instead, Arya sat and wrote out a speech she was supposed to give at her father’s birthday party in three weeks. Arya wasn’t good at public speaking - drawing attention to herself wasn’t on her to-do list.

But it was her father. And she’d do anything for him.

With a coffee in hand, she tried to write something meaningful to them both, something that might make him cry or even make Robb tear up. But words weren’t always kind to Arya, losing themselves at the crucial moment. Preparing to say what she needed helped - but the boredom was it’s cost.

The bell chimed every so often, signalling a new customer, but it just became an odd occurrence. It wasn’t until someone hovered nearby, tall and straight shouldered that Arya looked up. With a bag hung over his shoulder, and a new coffee in hand, he smiled down to her.

“Ah, gym girl,” he named her, and she rolled her eyes.

“I feel like I need a better name than gym girl, don’t you?”

“Well, what’s your name?” he asked. Arya didn’t know if he knew, he didn’t seem to, otherwise he may have tried to run, or could come on too strong. She just...wanted something normal. He did that for her.

“Private,” she replied, swallowing down the want to connect, replacing it with a wall that had to be built.

“Okay private, you can call me major,” he said with a smile. Arya went back to her laptop.

“A major cunt,” she whispered, but it caught the ear of him. Because he laughed at her snide remark.

“Military codes,” he corrected, and as she looked up, her brow furrowed deep.

“I know that. I’m just calling it as I see it,” she shrugged back.

“You’re kinda rude,” he noticed, tipping his coffee to his lips and drinking some down. Arya reclined back into her chair, hands in her lap as she looked up at the cocky bastard. It was hard to stop smiling when she looked at him - he was extremely attractive, and he wasn’t being a dick like many others had been. She was just defensive. But he seemed ready for that. As though he understood her somehow.

“Well, all this rage builds inside my small body, gotta let it out somehow,” she remarked, smiling back at him. He chuckled at her and she wanted to laugh too, but it felt strange. As though letting herself feel the humour of it all was too much.

“I can see that,” he nodded, glancing down to his watch. “I’ll leave you to it. See you, private.” He gave a lazy salute, going to exiting the store.

“See you,” she said, watching him leave, looking over his shoulder with a small wave in toe,  “major,” she whispered under her breath. She wasn’t going to give him the bloody satisfaction of hearing her say it.

But she couldn’t help but notice that throughout the rest of her time in the coffee shop that she couldn’t stop smiling to herself.

When the night was winding down, the castle looming over the town seeming even more intimidating in dusk, Arya didn’t want to go home. Calling a castle a home was a strange, as though such a building could be a welcoming embrace after a long day. Arya wasn’t one to be waited on, hand and foot. She wandered and moved against what her family name expected of her.

The town dwilded in masses, igniting their lights throughout the town, and the creatures of the night emerged. Those that wanted their night off, crawling from pub to pub, letting their jobs wear them out until they could suffer no more than a nice dinner and a drink - they all came out. Arya liked watching them, wondering what it would be like to be normal like they were. She felt freer than they were, but less free to be...normal.

Finding a group that would not stop chanting, she felt like she was drawn to them like a moth into a burning flame. The Stag Head. They all came wandering in, shouting and greeting everyone inside. The noise was insane, radiating outward, almost filling to the brim with people. And Arya beamed. She almost raced inside, shoving her way into the crowd and finding a spot on the bar. She didn’t get a seat for a while, but she didn’t mind the people - they were happy and loose, letting the night fuel their tired bodies.

Arya sat up on the stool, ordering a craft beer and waited for it to come around. She let the band in her hair come loose, falling around her shoulders and her fingers rubbing at her scalp. Scooping her hair to the side, she rested her elbow on the bar, tapping her foot on the stool’s beam. As a loud cheer echoed over the bar, Arya peered up from scanning the line of bottles on the wall. At the entrance she saw the man she knew as Major.

There was a pulling sensation to roll her eyes at him whilst also smiling until he saw her. Fuck. She was being an idiot. Instead of indulging, she focused back at the bottles. She counted to thirty four before someone met at her side. She almost didn’t want to turn, just seeing his smug face might make her react violently.

She hadn’t experienced...attraction like this. He made her mad at herself for feeling it. It was physical, she thought. He was good looking, and he had a nice enough smile. That’s what made her feel kind of giddy. But most of all, she wanted to punch him in the mouth purely to see if it would stop her from feeling whatever it was.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” he said, and Arya sighed, the smile finally creeping onto her lips.

“Just because I’m short doesn’t mean I’m young,” she said, still not looking his way.

“Sure,” he laughed, and Arya almost cracked, looking to see how wide he was smiling now, “you come here a lot?”

Arya straightened up before leaning back down onto the bar. “Not really. Just kind of stumbled across this place. Quite nice,” she shrugged.

“I’ll let the owner know.”

Finally, Arya looked to him, raising her brow. “Are you just that nice?”

He shrugged. “I know the owner.“

Arya narrowed her gaze at him. “I’m starting to think you’re following me,” she questioned. He scoffed back.

“I live here, you’re the one that’s new here. Are you following me?”

“You’re not that funny,” Arya rolled her eyes as her drink landed in front of her. Arya picked it up, almost raising it to her lips but Major spoke quickly.

“And that’s an expensive drink. You a rich girl or something?” he asked, and Arya scoffed.

“Or something,” she smiled as the glass touched her lips. Major smiled back, waving down the bartender who simply nodded and got him whatever his usual drink was. It ended up being whiskey on the rocks.

The night wound down, the crowds dispersing and the pub turning into an average tavern. Arya was shocked to find herself completely immersed in conversation with Major. He spoke of his time away, wishing he was back home - that he was going to be working with a friend from university soon. Yet, even as she talked to him, she could feel he wasn’t letting something out. She could understand that. But she was royalty pretending to be just...an average woman. She lied, saying she was finishing up university soon, her major being communications. He didn’t understand what she would study, and she said some bullshit about it being too hard to explain.

After Arya’s third beer, Major leaned into her, hand snaking underneath the bottom of her stool. Arya looked back at him, the smile on his face was lazy, mixed with his whiskey - a confidence that he hadn’t exhibited before. Arya stopped her hand from raising, focusing back at the man in front of her.

“What line am I going to have to say to get you to consider going out with me,” he said. And she laughed, resting her elbow on the bar and her chin in her palm. They were inches from each other, staring at each other with an unyielding gaze - as though the first to break would lose.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?” she smirked. He gave back a soft shrug, leaning down a little more.

“I’d like to at least be a contender. Feel like I keep falling over myself when I talk to you.”

“Bet you say that to every girl,” she rolled her eyes. He gave her pathetic lines like that, as though one would break her.

“No. Not every girl,” he said, tilting his head.

“You’re really bad at this.”

“So are you, but you do try,”

“So do you, but I get better, and I make it look easy,” she

“Yes, you do,” he said, suddenly jerking her stool towards him. She finally understood why his hand was under her chair. He wanted this to happen.

“Do you really think you can handle me?” Arya challenged, her brow raised as she stared him down. He softened in a way that made Arya’s heart race. He met her gaze with his own passion. He wasn’t backing down.

“Not at all, but I was counting on that,” he said. He finally found it - the line that broke her. It was as though he was seeing beneath the surface of her, under the walls, and peaking at how she wanted to be treated. She was a threat, she wasn't to be taken lightly. And he didn’t want to - he wanted the handful that she was - even if it were for a night, he wanted her.

Arya shifted forward, letting her elbow slip as the two tentatively leaned into each other. All she wanted to do was feel what his lips were like, if they were tender or rough, if the stubble on his jaw would scrap over her cheek if he pulled her forward like she wanted. But she recoiled first, her phone buzzing in her pocket. She wrenched it free from her jeans, finding her mother calling.

“Shit,” she cursed, the call ending before she could answer it. It was well past midnight, and her mother was only now calling. She was going to be killed before she got home. Fuck. Arya hit her forehead to her phone, standing up and scattering from her things. Major was sputtering out some words, almost standing from his stool, but she sat him back down. “I gotta go. It was nice..flirting with you. While it lasted anyway,” she smiled, waiting a moment, seeing if she’d let herself give in. As her phone chimed again, she knew she couldn’t.

Going for the door, Arya turned back the last second to see him one last time. He was looking back to her, the softest smile spreading across his lips. Everything told her to stay, but the nagging phone in her hand ushered her away from the bar.

When she got back to the palace, the look on both her mother’s and Brienne’s face told her enough - she was dead meat.

And now, a dog on a leash as well.

But...she got one day.

~*~*~

Gendry adjusted his tie, trying not to let on that the night before had gotten to him more than it should have. The entrance to the palace shook him more than it should have - he had been in warzones, but a grand palace foyer had his skin on edge. More than anything, he wanted to get this over and done with - he mainly took this job because his mum’s tavern was having some issues and Jon said the job paid well.

And plus, it was Jon. They’d known each other for nearly ten years, their university days binding them forever. As he waited, at the top of the large staircase, he saw the familiar man from his youth.

“Jon,” Gendry greeted. The short royal perked as he saw him, marching in a determined gate before they finally reached each other.

“Gendry!” he called, embracing him tightly, before leaving an arm’s distance between them.  “it’s great to see you man, it’s been a while!”

“No kidding,” Gendry laughed, pointing to Jon’s face, “keeping the beard, I see,” he said with a nod and Jon scoffed, running a face over his jaw.

“At least I kept my hair,” he replied.

Gendry ran his hand over his head. “Some of us have jobs to do,” he shrugged, “thanks for setting this up by the way.”

“It was no trouble,” Jon said, guiding Gendry up the stairs only to stop mid stride, “but in advance...I’m sorry.”

Gendry went back a step, meeting Jon’s worried look with his own. “Why?”

“You’ll get it soon.” He quickly kept moving and Gendry was left to follow straight after.

“Are you having me shovel horse shit?!”

“You might prefer that in a week,” Jon replied simply and Gendry’s brow furrowed deeper. How the fuck was that meant to be comforting, you prick?

“You’re a cryptic fucker, you know that?” Gendry swore. Jon laughed as the pair were met with a tall blonde woman.

“Brienne Tarth, this is Gendry,” Jon greeted. Gendry extended his hand, giving her a familiar, barely present smile.

“We met for the interview. Getting him to meet his assignment today,” Brienne nodded towards Jon, who had already started to walk off from the pair.

“Have fun!” he called out, going about to wander the halls of the palace - letting Gendry suffering with his lack of information.

“Why does he keep saying that,” Gendry said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

“You’ll understand soon enough,” Brienne said, barely registering a shift in tone.

“I’m beginning to regret this,”

“You’ll be on the youngest daughter, Arya. Code name is Nymeria,” she said, handing him a folder full of who he was set to protect.

“Why?” he asked.

“She had a dog when she was younger, and wanted it to be her code name. So, she’s stuck with it now,” Brienne waved the question off, as Gendry slowed down to read over the folder, picking up on a few lines, flicking a few papers over and catching a glimpse of the pictures of his assignment.

Gendry stopped midstep. This had to be a joke right? This couldn’t be the same -

“Hurry up,” Brienne said, and Gendry focused back to her, immediately rushing to keep in step with the head of security.

~*~*~

Arya had positioned the rod up in her walk in wardrobe, locked in between two walls to allow her to do pull ups in her own room. Since she’d fucked up the day before, she was essentially under house arrest until her mother worked out what punishment would fit Arya better.

It would be punishment to Arya - it’d just be another royal outing of some kind, donating to a charity and speaking to a crowd that had no idea who she was.

Arya huffed, locking her ankles in place as she urged her body up again. She’d been working out for nearly an hour before she heard a knock at her door. She was hidden away in her wardrobe, so seeing anyone was impossible in her position.

“Your highness?” she heard Brienne call.

“Here!” Arya grunted, pulling herself up again, and when she saw Brienne walk in, she dropped to the ground. Sitting down, she stretched out her arms, bending and arching her body to not tense up.

Arya stopped the minute she saw the man behind Brienne. Her mouth was dry, and she felt like coughing until she didn’t choke anymore. Because that’s all her body wanted to do - choke on the moment, because this could not be happening. Was this the punishment? Did they somehow find him. She stood, dusting herself off.

“Your highness, this is Gendry Waters, your new bodyguard.” He gave a soft bow as a greeting. Arya wanted to return it, but stayed still. Oh no, this was much worse than punishment. It was unintended punishment and embarrassment. Her mother, or the fucking universe, really knew how to kick her in the gut. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t you dare scare him off like the others.” Brienne turned on her heels, moving out of the wardrobe.

“Hey! It’s not my fault Sam can’t keep up,” Arya called out just as the door to her room shut.

The two stayed in silence, the deafening way it surrounded them, reminding them of what was being unsaid. They weren’t going to avoid it - and because Arya hated awkward situations, she was definitely going to bring it up. She knew her mind, how she was going to spit it out. Her walls coming straight back up.

“I don’t remember you saying you were a bodyguard last night,” Arya quipped, moving past him swiftly to get to her bed, and reaching for the towel that rested on the edge. She wiped away the sweat on her body, covering her shoulders once she had finished.

“Never mentioned you were royalty either,” he reminded her. “Your highness,” he corrected himself quietly.

“Don’t call me that!” she snapped, her cheeks feeling red hot. She hope the colour didn’t show. More than anything, she hoped he didn’t notice how much she hated him calling her that.

Gendry suddenly stepped into her orbit, catching her off guard. “Or what, your highness?” he asked, an edge to his words. Tempting.

“I have to get back to not being here,” she cleared her throat, moving ahead of Gendry and making her way out of the room without taking a second glance, “keep up or I’ll drop you like dead weight,” she warned, making sure her pace was hard to stay in time with.

“Noted,” Gendry said, walking one perfect step behind her. She was thankful for that, because she smiled so wide, she had to bit her lip to stop the laugh she wanted to let out. Instead, she raised her chin and began walking a little faster to see if he could keep up.

He could. And he did.

[puckinghell]

Stars and Supernovae | August

Summary: As soon as you meet Tyler Seguin, you know you’re destined to be best friends. Sometimes you wonder if you’re destined to be more, but life keeps getting in the way. Perhaps it’s just not written in the stars? Note: This is Part 4. Part 1 | part 2 | part 3

You groaned as what felt like the hundredth guy looked down your shirt as you handed him his beer. You knew why your boss had decided to make your work outfit so low cut - more tips - but God, did you hate this stupid job. But you needed it; somehow a miracle had happened and you had managed to find a new roommate, so you could keep your apartment, but it was still tight with money, and without this job you wouldn’t be able to keep your head above water.

Well, truth be told, Tyler had managed to find you a new roommate. You weren’t sure how, but he’d called you the day after the infamous dinner party, and told you that his sister Candace had a friend that was looking to move to Dallas. 

Sabrina was nice enough, although she didn’t really get your sarcastic humor and she preferred heels over sneakers, which was always one of the things that made you a bit distrusting of people, but she paid the rent on time and never left the kitchen a mess, so in more ways than one was she a better roommate than Katie ever had been.

In a way, it had been good for your friendship, that Katie lived with Jamie now. Not having her around all the time meant you were no longer so annoyed with the little things she did - like leave her shoes in the middle of the hallway - and you both made sure to get together every other week or so at the very least, to catch up on everything going on. Sometimes, you met up in a bar or coffee shop, but you also liked going over to their house because it meant Jamie would be there, and you’d really taken a liking to the Dallas Stars captain. 

Maybe because he was the closest you could get to Tyler, right now. Although you would rather die than tell Tyler that.

Once, Jamie had asked you about Tyler.

“So, are you two like, dating?” You’d been in the kitchen together, him cooking and you getting yourself a glass of wine, and you’d nearly dropped the bottle at his words.

“No,” you sputtered, “Why would you possibly ask me that?”

Jamie shrugged. “I’ve known Segs for a while, and I’ve never known him so… domestic. He barely goes out, doesn’t really take girls home anymore, and even now that he’s at the cabin he calls you nearly every day. I’m lucky if I get one text a week and it usually just says still alive, don’t worry or asks me to water his plants.”

“I’ve been watering his plants,” you blurt out, and the corners of Jamie’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he raised an eyebrow. “We’re just friends, Jamie. Promise. Nothing is going on between us.”

“But you’d like it to.” It’s not a question, more a statement, and you felt your cheeks flare up red. Jamie just laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him. But just so you know, I know Segs, maybe better than he knows himself. And he might not want to admit it to himself, but he knows you’re his person.” Jamie had left the kitchen with those words and they’d played over and over in your mind for the weeks following.

“Yo, what does a man have to do to get another beer in this place?” someone yelled, and you groaned before plastering on a fake smile and turning to the culprit.

“What can I get you?”

“A beer, did I stutter the first time, bitch?” You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek hard to stop yourself from saying something snarky back, when suddenly the guy disappeared from the bar. You watched as the guy stumbled back in slow motion and a pair of hands grabbed his shirt and pushed him into a table.

“Learn some manners, bud,” a tight voice said. A voice you’d recognize anywhere. A voice that was supposed to be in Canada right now. 

Tyler was always big and intimidating, with his tattoo sleeves and big muscles, but you’ve never seen him like this; his jaw set and his eyes cold, a snarl on his face. It’s the look that Jamie had whenever he’s about to get into a fight on the ice, a look that Tyler never gets, because he’s not a fighter.

“Tyler?” you brought out, stammering, and at your voice Tyler turned around. His face softened as he caught your eyes, and he made his way over to the counter so quickly you could barely see him move.

“Meet me outside?” he asked, softly. “Please?”

You didn’t know whether you were supposed to be mad at him; he was technically defending your honor, but this was also your job, and you really couldn’t afford to get fired. Your lack of answer seemed to worry Tyler. “Look, I’m sorry for losing my temper, but please come outside? I brought Gerry to meet you and I can’t leave him alone in the car any longer. Please.”

His repeated begging was enough to get you to leave your post behind the bar, but the mention of the puppy pulled it over the top, and you quickly nodded with smile. You asked your co-worker to cover for you and made your way out of the bar, where your eyes found Tyler immediately. He stood in front of his black pick up truck, a small blonde Labrador at his feet.

“Gerry!” you cooed, and the puppy looked up at you, his tiny tail wagging. You practically ran at the dog and scooped him up in your arms, pressing your lips to his head. “Tyler he’s so cute,” you marveled. Your best friend just chuckled.

“I haven’t seen you in four months, and I don’t even get a hug, huh?” You knew he was teasing you, and maybe it was because you’d missed his teasing so much, that your heart leaped and you quickly put Gerry on the ground, only to throw yourself forward and into Tyler’s arms. He caught you easily, his arms wrapping around your waist as he giggled into your ear.

“Hi,” he whispered into your hair, and you pressed your face into his neck. He smells so familiar, feels so familiar, and suddenly you were swallowing back tears.

“Hi,” you smiled.” I missed you.”

“I missed you more.”

You felt something scratch your feet and released Tyler, only to kneel and pick Gerry back up.

“I can’t believe you come back to Dallas after four months and the first thing you do is punch one of my customers.” You wiped at the tears in your eyes and then smiled up at him. Tyler at least had the decency to look ashamed, as his hand rubbed his neck slowly.

“Right, sorry about that,” he said. “I took offense to his tone.”

You laughed humorlessly. “That’s nothing, Ty. He was nice, in comparison to most. It’s just something I have to deal with. You can’t punch them all, cause then I won’t get paid.”

“You shouldn’t even have to have this job,” he mumbled. “If I could…” He stopped himself then, staring at the ground in front of his feet instead. But you knew what he was saying. If he could, he would take care of you. If you would let him. Which you weren’t going to do.

“I know,” you told him softly, and then you reached out and cuddled into his chest again, holding Gerry between your bodies. “But I have rent to pay.”

“Can’t you find another job?” Tyler asked, his hand stroking your back. “Can’t I just hire you as my professional dog walker?”

You laughed, lightly kicking his shin with your foot. “Absolutely not. You’re my best friend, not my boss.”

“You’re my best friend, too.” Tyler’s voice was soft and you cursed your heart for fluttering the way it did. “That’s why I worry, with you at this job. These guys wouldn’t know respect if it hit them in the face. What if one day, one of them goes too far?” He swallowed thickly and you couldn’t help yourself; you reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before stepping back.

“I’ll keep an eye out for other jobs,” you promised him, and the content look on his face made it worth it that you were most definitely going to get yelled at by your boss for being gone so long.

Tyler spent the next few days helping you find another job, at least when he wasn’t training, and you spent them cuddled up on his sofa with his dogs as you scrolled through the internet looking for jobs. Finally, you found an advert for a barista position, at a 24/7 coffee shop on campus, and you sent in your application. Two days later, you were hired.

“It’s still at night, but at least my customers won’t be drunk,” you joked. You were sitting on your own couch, for a change, because Tyler’s sisters are in town and staying at his house. Sabrina was on the other side of the couch, watching Sex and the City. It had never been your favorite show, but you let her pick, because you weren’t really planning on watching it anyway. You had an essay to write. Your phone pinged, and you smiled when you saw it was Tyler.

Please come over. My sisters are driving me insane.

You quickly typed out a reply, explaining that you had an essay and simply didn’t have the time.

I don’t accept that. It’s Saturday, you have all day tomorrow. Pretty please? :(

Even over text, you didn’t know how to say no, so you told him you’d be there within ten minutes. You were a bit nervous to meet his sisters, but understood that you had no right to feel that way, because you were just a friend. When you explained to Sabrina where you were going, she clasped her hands together in excitement.

“Oh, I’ll come with you! I haven’t seen Candace in so long!” You couldn’t come up with a good reason why she shouldn’t come, so you nodded, even though you weren’t that excited about the prospect.

You opened Tyler’s door with your key and ignored Sabrina’s raised eyebrow, probably wondering why you even had a key in the first place; instead you focused on the three dogs crowding around your feet.

“Hi, puppies,” you cooed, lifting Gerry into your arms and using your free hand to pet Cash and Marshall.

“You must be Y/N!” A blonde girl appeared in the hallway, and smiled at you. The smile broadened when she spotted Sabrina. “Sab!” She ran over and hugged your roommate. A second blonde girl appeared, but she just stood there, seemingly unsure what to do. Then, heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, and you were relieved to hear Tyler’s voice.

“Hey Shiny,” he hummed. You put Gerry down and smiled. “These are my sisters, Candace and Cassidy. They’re driving me nuts with their yapper about my lack of decorating skills.” He rolled his eyes and you laughed.

“It is a bit bare, in here.”

“Oh, come on! You can’t gang up on me, you’re my best friend!” Only then did he seem to spot the girl currently wrapped in his sister’s arms. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” said Sabrina, and you’d never heard her voice that honey-sweet. “I’m Sabrina. You must be Tyler.” She shook his hand, and the other sister, who you guessed was Cassidy, since Sabrina was Candace’s friend, frowned.

“Hello to you too,” she deadpanned, clearly annoyed that Sabrina was still making eyes at her brother, completely ignoring her presence. A snort escaped your lips and Cassidy sent you a look, her lips slowly curling into a smile. “Well, you must be Y/N. I’m Cassidy, that’s Candace. Come to the living room with me, we’re planning to get Ty some new decor and I’m sure you’d like a say, since you’re here so often.” There was no malice behind her words, but you didn’t miss the narrowing of Sabrina’s eyes.

“Oh, yes, you can show me around, Tyler,” she purred, and you rolled your eyes as you followed Cassidy to the living room.

“I was thinking of putting the couch a bit more like this…” Cassidy motioned, “and putting a painting there…” pointing, “and then also some ornaments like, vases and pillows and just little knick knacks. There’s nothing in here that shows any personality.”

“He has his hockey pucks,” you pointed out. In the bookcase lay an array of hockey pucks. One day, when you’d come to pick up the dogs and Tyler hadn’t been home, you’d gone through all of them to read what they were for. First NHL assist, first NHL goal, hat tricks, 100th game, 200th game.

“Not enough,” Cassidy said, and you had to agree with her. You spent the rest of the evening planning Tyler’s new interior, Candace joining you after a while, and Tyler begrudgingly letting you. You figured maybe he would’ve fought it more if he hadn’t been so busy entertaining you roommate, who you were starting to like a lot less; not that that was fair, because Tyler was single and hot as hell and could you really blame her for trying? 

No, it annoyed you more that he seemed to be very interested. Again, that wasn’t fair either, because she was very pretty, and exactly the kind of girl he probably should end up with. 

But it was the first time you spent a night at your best friend’s house without him making even one smart ass, snarky remark towards you, and that’s how you knew things were about to change.

[nolitetebastardescarborundorum]

What I like and dislike about each Skam Version:

The order is when I watched them. Which is basically the same order when they came out since I watch clip for clip live with every version since the evak cuddle clip 3 years ago. I won't point out things twice if a remake did it exactly the same. For example the blackmailing of Noora. Disliked it in the og, ditto with every other version. Another disclaimer: I don't have a favorite version since no one was perfect from first to last season. Different versions have different favorite seasons for me.

What I loved about the og 🇳🇴: The complete different format of a show with the clips, social media, roughly camera work that made it look like a reality show or documentary. The actors being the age of their characters and not all being thin, beautiful models. The pov and seing the boring aspects of life too. All the casual parties. The music and the whole russbus culture. In general getting to know so much about other cultures that I didn't thought about before for even a minute. Eva standing up for herself and breaking up with Jonas. Penetrator Chris as the comic relief, he may be a fuckboy, but he is isn't sexist or homophobic, his one liners are iconic. A normal reaction to Isak being gay and Evak actually getting an happy ending and a proper love scene like any hetero couple gets. Eskilds gay pride speech, it made me rethink my own mindset, as well as Sanas line about hate doesn't come from religion, it comes from fear and her whole conversation with yousef about religion. The guys helping Isak get back his man and Magnus hilarious questions, but also his helpful advice. Everything in the scene with Eva's 18th birthday. Even singing imagine. The cuddle clip, literally my favorite clip in all the versions, the spiderman kiss and the universe talk. Yousana love shown without any touching. The girls picking up Sana with the los losers bus. The ballon squads YouTube channel. How sweet and protective Elias was about Sana. 5 fine frøkner! Kosegruppa. If I could chose I would want a season for Magnus and Penetrator Chris.

What I disliked: Jonas treating Eva like she's stupid. Everything with William pretty much, starting with his non existent personality to blackmailing Noora, dissing Vilde, not listening after the SA happening etc. Nooras completely change in attitude from feminist to falling for the fuckboy and betraying your friend, also, ik most of the fans love it, her speeches, the one at William and also the one at Nicolai, it was just too long and arrogant to me sorry, I don't thought yes queen, I more thought yeah okay we got it already. The lack of communication with literally everyone. Vilde being so judgemental. Eva 'stealing' Jonas. Even not being able to speak for himself about his MI. The hate against Sonja, yes her saying Even can't love was fucked up, but her outrage and pain was more than understandable for me. The call your gf scene, idk it just makes me uncomfortable and I just felt bad for the girls. The whole show basically revolving around Noora in every season and her amount of screen time. Chris and Emma in the end, a huge wtf that made no sense and came out of nowhere, as well as Jonas and Eva's suddenly reunion.

What I loved about 🇮🇹: Be aware that I'm biased since Italy is my favorite country since childhood. I love everything about it. Landscapes, food, clothes, cars, the men^^ and ofc the language and names. First and foremost the cinematography. Also the music. All the girls being pretty as fuck. I feel like they where more mature too, but that goes for the boys and Eduardo too. Elia being there since season 1. The skating shenanigans. Martino and Eva being the closest version of this friendship (which is why I hope they continue this in the next season and make them close again, not going for the best buds). Their parents being more involved. Edoardo not insulting Silvia. Giovanni constantly cursing and gesturing like the true Italian that he is. Ofc the bromance in s2, that was what the season was all about for me more than the romance (reason in the dislikes), how they all cared for each other, had actual conversations, were with marti everywhere and always supported him. Gio being the best friend ever and constantly checking in on marti. How all the boys and edos rich gang stood up for marti against the homophobes, I never cheered so loud during a clip istg. The man, the myth, the legends Chico roddi :D. Eduardos soft side, when he played creep or cried when Eleonora could tell him herself what happend. The way they merged the squads together and all hang out boys and girls and also Filippo. Filippo and Eleonora being siblings and literally everything that fillipo does, his sassyness is unmatched. Cute Short king luca, carefree elia. Seriously I could write novels about this boy squad. Their parties and how they do them at 9pm during business days. Guardami Martino! 😂 If I could chose I would want a Gio and Fillipo season.

What I disliked: The darkness, especially s2 although it looked romantic a lot of times. The way Gio kisses, listen I love him with all my heart but he looks like he wants to eat faces or lick them like a dog 😂. I couldn't get into Niccolò, he never grew on me, came of kinda cold and the chemistry between the actors compared to the other versions isn't that great imo. It also has the only Sana I don't like and don't care for her season. It's not bc of the controversy about the actress. She just comes of rude in the show and also has way too less scenes to get excited for her pov, Her relationship with Marti is also non existent. The lack of social media and texts. Some of the actors looking way too old.

What I loved about 🇫🇷: The many changes of season 3. The piano scene with literally heart eyes. Eliott being the biggest dork. Eliott being able to express his feelings about his MI. Eliott saying it's not a girl. The rain kiss. Lucas being a major cutie. His relationship with the girls and Manon in particular. How they helped Daphne with the room. That we get an Arthur season, he's my favorite Madhi. How happy they were when Lucas came out and how they cheered everytime they saw Eliott. The elu social media content. Yann apologizing for his behavior and comments in the past. The hedgehog and racoon personas. Imans dad. Alexia and Arthur becoming a thing. The bts and Interviews, especially the attentive Maxel friendship.

What I disliked: The first two seasons being 1:1 copy from the og, I only watched them bc I had a close french friend when it aired. The whole Charles shit in s3&4. The acoustic music often being a bit to on the nose, like the music before a jumpscare in horror movies, for example the common room meeting, it was so obvious they would fall in love. S3 of France is probably my favorite version of this season, but it is like a dramatic romcom movie and felt less realistic compared to the others and the og. Emma is super bland and kinda dumb. Mika being super rude to Lucas. The disrespect against iman. Sofiane actually dating Manon.

What I loved about Druck 🇩🇪: (Also biased since I am german) Jonas sweetness. Hans is hilarious. Jonas and Hannah reunion. Kiki turning into the sweetest. The girl squad being really close. The boy squad being dumbasses. The change of Alex and showing his anxiety. Kiki and Carlos being a wholesome couple. The changes and extra content. Amira and Mohammeds softness. Their sm game.

What I disliked: The dialogue sounds very cringey to me and super scripted. The Mia actress looks like she doesn't like to kiss Alex at all, no chemistry and no love to be seen for me. Mia being arrogant in general. That Amira had only 7 episodes and Mia extra concent for her boring relationship. I never could get into Matteo much, he was to much of a sloth to me, let everything just happen and while that may be realistic, it's for the viewer pretty boring. I also couldn't get into David much, we knew barely nothing about him for most of the time and then he was absent for like 3 weeks straight. Davenzi also came of as more like best friends to me as an couple in love, they were cuter in s4. Unrelated to the plot or show, but the druck stans that feel super entitled and superior.

What I loved about 🇪🇸: The made subtle changes from the start. Lucas coming out to Eva and not being a snake. Jorge being the softest Jonas and not lying about weed. The girl squad being the closest and cutest with another, as well as the boys and them being a mega squad since s1, way less inner group drama and the friendships in this versions are just super wholesome to me and my favorite girl squad. Also my favorite amira, she wants to adopt everyone and they all care and respect her religion and I have high hopes for her season. Their parties. Also the remake with the most sm content and texts. The only P Chris version that comes nearly close to the og, being sassy, charismatic and having hella sexual chemistry with eva. The fact that also my favorite chris got her own season, that they changed it to a wlw plot that was displayed tastefully and not overly sexualized. The portray of having borderline, being shown how it really is. Lucas having an Youtube channel and how supportive his boys reacted and how tender him and Jorge are, I can't stretched enough how much I love and stan attentive, genuine male friendships without toxic masculinity. Hugo being an absolute sweat heart since his first appearance, not being petty or mad with Cris and just being a true friend. If I could chose I would want a season about Lucas and Amira.

What I disliked: Alejandro looks like 14 to me and I'm not keen on seeing this plot for the 8th time. Viri and Cris clothes a lot of times, Ik they dress like teenagers these days do, but it just looks horrendous to me sry. Them stretching out the story between Cris and Joana so much and breaking them up like 5 times.

What I loved about wtfock 🇧🇪: I just started with season 3 live, because I couldn't get into the characters when the first clips of s1 dropped. I later binged s2 and watched some key clips of s1.

They changed many things for the better. First and foremost Senne, him being supportive of Zoë, a good flat mate and encouraging dad friend. Zoë giving him way more of a hard time and making him work for it. Robbe moving into the flatshare and becoming bff with Zoë. Not breaking up Zoenne and making Senne an important character in s3 as not only Zoës boyfriend. Sander! I love his whole art hoe - e boy brand, his music taste, his clothes, hair, how reckless he is, his blant flirting. Robbe being an absolute baby ™ and clingy af. The Willems chemistry is unmatched in the skam universe. Yasmina is so fucking pretty and intelligent. Rosanders date. Milan being sooo cute and Robbe having confidence in him and them being genuinely friends. I could swoon over the found family in the flatshare 24/7 and wish I could live with them. Robbes dad asking if Sander is a vegetarian. Luca & Noor shading Moyo. Noor having a personality besides being naïve and a beard for the Isak. Robbe caring about his mom.

What I disliked: Senne starting of as the worst William with his bracelets and showing around Ambers nudes. Ambers rudeness in general. The boys talking only about girls and totally ignoring Robbe for 6 weeks straight, especially Jens. Moyos sexist and homophobic comments and behavior. Clips and drama with no explanation or follow ups, brushed off or rushed scenes. The gay bashing and robbes slurs, them turning everything into drama for drama sake. For multiple weeks only clips that were either total drama or happy clips with no normal daily life. Exaggerating the robbe and noor make outs. No Sander the first 2 weeks. The lack of answeres from Sander and questions from Robbe, brushed of with one liners. Barely any texts.

[ozarkkaya]

My Pitch for a Rewrite of Pokemon: Indigo Leage (the Original Season of the Anime)

Okay so like this is going to be a bit rambley and shit but I was talking with some friends about ways the pokemon anime could be improved because god damn is it a shitty anime,, love the franchise but the anime suuuuucks. So this post is going to be really just me throwing spaghetti at the wall and talking about my personal pet peeves and how I would end the series.

There are two options that I’ve got but this post is going to be focused on the darker, more mature rewrite; as opposed to the season that I would actually pitch to Gamefreak if I was given the chance.

I’ve put the detailed version of it under the cut, because it’s a lot, but tl;dr is this: Ash/pikachu bonding arc runs a lot longer, Ash is a competent trainer, Jessie and James are competent yet keep their goofy charm, there are actual arcs in character and plot instead of just episodic information dumps.

So basically what it would focus on would be if the arc from the very first episode lasted longer. I always felt like it was dumb that pikachu went from trying to kill ash to being best buds with him just because Ash saved pikachu one time, so I figured that would be a good starting point. Ash and pikachu(from this point on to be referred to as P for simplicity’s sake) don’t become friends from the very start. Instead, they spend the entire season learning how to cooperate. They learn about each other and slowly become the best friends we know and love. It happens over the course of the entire season; going from pure hatred and uncooperativeness to Ash having a preference for going to P in battle, and then eventually they are inseperable buddies.

Speaking of battling, in this rewrite Ash is a competent trainer. None of this Pikachu vs Onix bullshit. He pays attention to types and actually knows how to utilize them properly. This Ash uses his entire team-- and he does in fact actually have a team in this. He has a proper team and spends the entire time working with them and learning who they are. He bonds with each and every member of the team over the course of multiple episodes, and every pokemon has their own character arc. I like the Charizard arc. I love pokemon character arcs. There are a lot more of them in this rewrite.

The caviat of this, however, is a loss of the secondary characters. Brock and Misty are still there, but they aren’t permanent additions to the team. Brock becomes more of a mentor figure, another person Ash can turn to for advice if Oak is being a dumbass again, but he’s busy with the gym and can’t join Ash on his adventure. Misty follows him around for a bit but soon goes off on her own-- they meet up again at different points, but it’s less of a constant friendship and more of a realistic friendship where she actually has shit she needs to do.

On the note of other characters, we have to talk about Jessie and James. In this rewrite they’re much more intimidating. Here, they’re actually competent trainers and competent members of Team Rocket. Their plans almost always come within inches of succeeding, and take more than one episode to work through. There are entire episodes dedicated to their stories and their arcs as well; not just the one episode we get for James’ backstory and the Pokemon Island episode-- multiple multiple episodes for each of them.

All of these stories and character arcs come to a close in the final arc of the rewrite. At the end of the next to last arc, Ash and his team lose. P is captured by Jessie and James, and Ash spends this entire arc trying to get his new best friend back. Tensions are running high as he goes to each of the people that he’s befriended over the course of the season, asking them each for their help. They all give what they can, even Misty, and eventually he manages to track down Jessie and James. The dynamic duo have figured out that P doesn’t have a pokeball, and so James has taken the initiative and captured him himself.

The series ends with an epic and emotional battle sequence; with Ash and his pokemon moving one in the same. All the character arcs come to a close in this battle; Ash and his team versus Team Rocket and P. And Ash loses again. He’s kicked down to the ground and P is being forced to attack him. He manages just barely to pick up a rock that’s on the ground and throw it at James’s hand; breaking the pokeball that held P captive. He’s hurt and he’s clearly nearly dying. P rushes to his side and tries to help him up; tries to do anything, but Ash just pushes him away.

Ash keeps telling P to go, go! Get out of here! Be free; get away from them! And he says it in an angry, hateful tone. The episode ends with a blurry picture of P running and then fades to black for the end credits instead of having the background it would usually have.

The last episode opens with the same fade in; not even having the opening theme. Ash blinks a few times and finds he’s in a hospital bed, surrounded by the team that remains and the friends he made on the way. But P isn’t there. The entire episode goes through a montage, with a monologue going sporadically through it. The beginning of the episode is Ash asking about P and finding out that nobody can find him, and then getting out of the bed and running out of the hospital crying, only to be brought back. The monologue explains that he only said those things to save P.

The montage covers the remainder of Ash’s life. It covers how he went through the five stages of grief along with the rest of the team, and how he went on to live a long life alongside them. There’s a house that he buys, and every once in a while the montage cuts back to it, and every time it cuts back there’s another grave there for one of his pokemon. It’s really a melancholy ending.

At the very end of the episode, it focuses in on Ash, old and gray, looking at the tombstones that cover his front yard. One of them is freshly dug: Charizard, the last one that died. In this rewrite Ash and Charizard were the closest bond after P was lost. The entire team, except for P, is there. He turns back to the woods that are across the way and enters them one last time; using a cane with every step. He’s got his iconic baseball cap on, and many pokemon come out to greet the friendly man that they know and love. He waves all of them off, claiming that he’ll be back another day perhaps, that he doesn’t have treats today for them.

And then he sees a couple pokemon that cause him to stop dead in his tracks. A couple small pichu. They notice him too, and begin speaking wildly with each other as they spot him. Throughout the entire montage up until this point, with al the walks through these woods, there has never been one of the pikacu line in them. The pichu wave and motion for Ash to follow them, and he does so, dumbstruck. They lead him back to their home.

And in their home he sees P. Old and tired and with his colors washed out and desaturated, but it’s still P. Cut back to Ash, who’s crying. The two reunite, and Ash apologizes. He asks P if he’s willing to go on one last adventure. And P agrees. They make their way out of the little home; many pikachus and pichus following them, until they get back to Ash’s home.

Ash lies down on the grass, and P lies down next to him. And they’re happy, and there’s nobody trying to take P or hurt Ash. And then P’s figure stops moving. And then Ash closes his eyes, and the monologue that’s been running over the entire episode stops. And then the credits roll.

The credits have little sort of storybook style sketchy doodles of Ash and the entire team, reuniting as they were in their youth, and the show ends with a picture of the entire team together, happy; opacity lowered and stars scattered throughout. Pan down and you see an older woman. She speaks as if she’s finishing telling a long tale. When she finishes talking, the camera cuts to a shot of her across from a group of children, and then pans around to the front of the group, where you see the young face of a child.

This child goes on to be the protagonist of the next season of the show, with a completely different starter and a completely different motivation, but constantly calling back to the Ash legend, for that is what Ash Ketchum had become: a legend.

Anyhow, that’s my really self-indulgent dark pokemon au I guess?? A friend was screaming about how they wanted pikachu to be released and I thought that was a neat idea so I wrote that in,,, apologies for the word vomit!! Again this is just me throwing spaghetti at the wall and hoping it sticks hjk.

Do tell me if you’d like to hear my other pitch-- it’d be a completely differently toned version; a pitch for pokemon as it is today and not rewriting the first season for an older audience.

Have a wonderful day, and take care of yourselves!

[thequeenoffanfiction]

Teach me what love is

So this is a Gaara x reader lemon from my wattpad so I hope you enjoy it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) your name

(N/n) nick name

(H/l) hair length

(H/c) hair color

(S/c) skin color

(F/c) favorite color

(2f/c) second favorite color

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~your P.O.V~~

It was late and I couldn't sleep so I was out and about just walking around the sand village I walked past the Kazekage's building only to sense chakra it was Gaara's chakra I looked up and he was sitting on the roof of the building he seemed to be lost in thought and didn't notice me he was in pajamas from what I could see I knew Gaara since we were kids at first I was scared of him but soon enough I wasn't scared of him because I figured everyone needs friends and he wasn't really a monster he was just misunderstood and I must admit as we got older he got hotter and I fell in love with him and than he became Kazekage and so I never got to tell him and yet we see each other every day I'm one of the ANBU that guard him

I went to keep walking when I felt sand wrap around my wrist and I looked up and saw none other than Gaara himself looking at me with a curious look in his eyes he wanted me to come up there I was guessing I jumped and landed next to Gaara "lord Kazekage did you need something" I asked he looked at me and said "there's no need to call me that (y/n) we've been friends since we were little just call me Gaara" I smiled and said "ok Gaara did you need something" he said "sit down" I did as I was told and sat down beside him my feet dangling I said "Gaara you can call me (n/n) if you want" he nodded "I wanted to ask you something" I looked at him and said "ask away"

he frowned and said "can you teach me what love is" I froze and blushed but I said "sure" he turned and looked at me as I continued talking "love is when you wanna be around someone all the time when you'd give anything to keep them safe when you get a fluttering feeling in your stomach and you heart feels like it's gonna beat out of your chest when you hate seeing that person with someone else and all you want is to make them yours" I looked at Gaara who had a thoughtful look on his face he said "I think I love someone than since I asked Temari about it and I explained that I had most of what you just said and she said I was in love" I felt my heart crack into pieces I gave a forced smile and said "that girl is a lucky girl than" he smiled slightly and said "yea but I think I'm the lucky one she's perfect and wasn't really scared of me once she got to know me" there's goes my heart pieces scattering into the wind

"You should tell her she sounds like a awesome girl" I told him he looked at me and said "really what if she doesn't feel the same" I smiled "I'm sure she will what's not to love about you silly boy" he smiled slightly again and said "ok I will" I stood up and said "alright I'll leave and let you go find this girl" he chuckled and said "where are you going the girl I love is already here" I froze and thought about it for a minute but was quickly snapped away from my thoughts when I heard him say "(y/n) I love you" I turned around to see he standing up and looking at me with hopeful eyes "I love you too Gaara I have since the chunin exams"

He smiled slightly at me and said "can I try something" I nodded "anything" as I walked over to him he leaned down and gently placed his lips on mine I froze again before relaxing into the kiss and kissed back wrapping my arms around his neck trying to deepen the kiss he placed his hands on my hips I felt him rub my hips slightly which made me shift some and I felt him pull away his cheeks tinted red I frowned and said "I'm sor- mmph" I was cut off by him slamming his lips against mine again but this time he slid his tongue in my mouth he got dominance since I was too shocked to even try and fight for it he explored my mouth leaving no spot untouched he grinded his hips into mine making me moan into the kiss and after that he seemed to snap since his kiss got rougher and he started to grind against me harder

I pulled away for air and gasped "Gaara" as he grinded against me and started kissing down my neck looking for my sweet spot once he found it I gave out a gasp/moan sound

I felt him smirk against my skin and start to work on that one spot once he pulled away I knew he left a mark I was gasping for me he backed away to let me catch my breathe I said "if we're doing this we're not doing it here" between my pants he nodded and walked over to me picked me up bridal style and the next thing I knew we were in a room his room

he put me on the bed and settled himself between my legs and kissed me again I kissed back automatically he pulled away from my lips and start to kiss my neck and collarbone as he started to pull my (f/c) night shirt up he lips left my neck long enough to pull my shirt over my head and throw it to a random corner and started kissing and sucking at the skin it revealed I arched my back as he slid his hands around my back and unclipped my (2f/c) bra after a minute of trying to get it and pulled that off and threw it too

My hands flew to my chest he gave me a small smile and said "don't hide from me" and gently pulled my arms away from my chest I blushed as he looked at me before lowering his head to my breasts and kissed one of my hardened buds making me gasp and arch my back wanting more he took it into his mouth and used his other hand to take my other hardened bud and pinch slightly at it and roll it between his fingers making me moan he swirled his tongue around my rosy bud before switching and giving my other breast the same treatment

once he was done with that he kissed me again and slid his hand into my (f/c) shorts and rubbed my clit through my (2f/c) boy shorts making me moan and buck my hips into his hand he pulled his hand away and grabbed my shorts and pulled them off and throwing them into a corner I panted and said "no fair I'm half naked and your still dressed" he smirked and pulled off his shirt revealing a perfectly built body and pulling off his pajama bottoms leaving him in black boxers with an obvious tent in them I blushed and nodded as he said "better" he smirked and moved down to where his head was near my entrance and gently rubbed me through my boy shorts "ohhh Gaara m-more st-stop tea-sing me" he nodded slowly before pulling off my boy shorts to reveal my dripping entrance

He mumbled "your so wet" as he slid a slender finger into my tightness he started to pump that finger into me before adding another I shut my eyes in pure bliss before I felt something wet and warm lick at my clit I gasped and my eyes shot open and I grabbed the closest thing which just happened to be his red hair he pulled his fingers out of my and licked a line to my entrance before sliding his tongue into me making me moan loudly he started to eat me out and I bucked my hips only to have him grab them and hold them down "G-Gaara ngh" I felt a knot start to form and soon enough it snapped and I came

He licked me clean before he stood up and took off his boxers before aligning his member to my entrance he looked me in the eyes and said "are you sure you wanna do this" I nodded "yes I'm sure we've went this far it'd be unfair to you if we didn't finish" I told him he nodded and said "this is gonna hurt a bit" and pushed his tip in before slowly pushing himself in trying to not hurt me once he was all the way in I had tears in my eyes as i felt my walls being stretched for the first time he waited for me to tell him to move but I knew he was having a hard time trying not too

after a minute or two I moved my hips slightly and moaned as I felt pleasure run through me Gaara took that as a sign to move and nearly pulled out before slamming back into me he groaned "so tight" as he thrusted into me "ngh G-gaara ohhh" I moaned out as i wrapped my legs around his waist letting him go deeper into my wetness he started thrusting faster and my moans got louder with every thrust soon enough he hit a spot that make me scream and see stars "ahH god Right there Gaara" he started aiming for that spot I felt that knot start to form again "ga-ara I'm c-close" I moaned he groaned "me too" and went harder and faster he brought one of his hands down and started to rub my clit fast making me moan "gaara" he said "s-say my n-name aga-in" "Gaara" he groaned "l-louder" and rubbed my clit harder I felt that knot snap and screamed "GAARA" as I climaxed he groaned "(y/n)" and came with one last deep thrust and rode out our highs

I felt warm and tingling when he pulled out my (s/c) skin was covered in sweat making my (h/c) (h/) stick to it he pulled the blankets over us and wrapped his arms around me I heard him chuckle and say "you really did teach me what love is" I smiled and said "I love you" I heard him say "I love you too" as I drifted to sleep

[ihatetosayitbut-blog]

The Fall / H.S au Chapter 1

The dim light of the morning seeped through my window. I peek at my clock and it reads 6 am, but I was already up. I think it's a stretch to say I have insomnia, I just don't sleep that much. I never saw it as a problem, there's no sad story of why, there's no nightmares- I just don't sleep as much as other people do.

I had already been up and made my coffee from the kitchen - quietly I might add. Just because I don't sleep well doesn't mean my roommate has to suffer.

I'm in my third year at Boston University and share a flat with my friend Nat. We met at a party freshman year and immediately took to each other. She's been here through everything, all the tests I was nervous to take, all the boys that couldn't stay.

Scratch that- all the boys I didn't want to stay. Nat was just like any other person I was friends with. She's had her fair share of heartbreak, I've helped her get ready for dates with boys, I've eaten countless pints of ben and jerry's with her when it didn't work out. But I have never had those problems.

It wasn't that I wanted my heart broken, or that I think I need love to feel complete, I just want to feel something, anything.

It's safe to say I have given up on dating for the time being. Over the past 3 years I only did casual flings, because I didn't like being known as the girl who had broken hearts since her freshman year.

I quickly threw a sweatshirt on from my messy floor and stumbled out into the living room and opened up one of the many books I kept strung throughout my room- 'Milk and Honey' by Rupi Kaur. To say this book frustrates me would be an understatement. I don't understand half of it, but the notion of these poems are still devastatingly beautiful. My eyes skim over a poem that seizes my breath, 'love will come, and when love comes love will hold you, love will call your name and you will melt, sometimes though, love will hurt you but love will never mean to, love will play no games cause love knows life has been hard enough already'.

I immediately put the book down and ran my hand through my hair. I can't help but feel frustrated. But I will be patient, I won't look for love because if I'm meant to find it- it will find me. I hear Nat's door creep open as she strolls into the living room, throwing her messy blonde locks into a bun.

"Morning bitch did you make coffee?"

I stifle a scoff, "I made myself some I'm your best friend not your slave, but check the pot there might be a little left"

She mumbles a quick 'rude' and sits down on the couch.

"Did you hear about the party down on Elmwood Ave tonight? I heard it's gonna be insane, Ian's probably already pregaming"

Ian is one of my closest friends, but also Nat's occasional hookup when they are drunk and lonely. "I wouldn't put it past him, as long as he doesn't get have to get his stomach pumped again I'll come"

Last weeks party ended in Ian doing one too many shots and a trip to the emergency room, safe to say everyone's buzz was gone by the end of the night.

"Ugh I swear I could've killed him, I'll be on him like white on rice tonight because I'm not cleaning up anyone's puke especially his, but he should be mildly tame because he's showing the new kid around today I doubt he wants to scare him off before he even unpacks his shit" she says with a sigh.

"Wait what new kid?" The last new kid Ian showed around ended up running for the hills once he found out how Ian parties.

Nat rolls her eyes ,"I don't know some British boy he's taken under his wing, but maybe if you're lucky he'll be cute"

I groan and throw my head back. "Nat don't even think about it I'm serious, just leave be alone with a bud light and I'll be fine"

She throws her pillow at me and I throw it right back at her. "Rory you can't hide from boys forever, I know you haven't had the best of luck but you shouldn't give up"

Here we go again. Nat cares more about my love life- or lack there of than I do.

"Seriously just leave it I'm not going to look for anything just drop it and let's have a nice time tonight" I quickly try to change the subject before she dampens my mood.

She finally cracks a smile and drops the subject. "Fine, lets watch Netflix until it's time to get our asses up". I get up and grab blankets and she makes quick work of putting one tree hill on, our favorite show no matter how many times we rewatch it.

-----

After many hours of watching the yummy Scott brothers we finally get up to get ready. I stare at myself in the mirror, my blue eyes stare back at me running along my appearance. I've never hated the way I look but I've never loved it either- I was okay with it. I curled the ends of my long chestnut hair and after many attempts I manage winged eyeliner. As for my outfit I put on my favorite pair of black high waisted skinny jeans, and an off the shoulder white cropped shirt.

Nat straightened her golden blonde hair and opted for a black flowy sundress. We locked up and quickly hailed a cab.

After about 10 minutes we pulled up to the already large house party. Drunken frat boys scatter throughout the house and we make quick work of finding Ian. He's by the keg, no surprise there.

"Well if it isn't my favorite ladies, thanks for gracing us with your presence" Ian pulls Nat into a bear hug that I manage to sneak out of.

"Oh shove of dickhead we aren't any later than usual" Nat pushes him off.

"Oh babe you wound me" he banters with her while I grab a bud light off the table and sit on the counter beside my idiot friends.

While Nat and Ian continue to banter I scan the party. There's the drunken couples practically dry humping on the makeshift dance floor, the football team playing yet another riveting game of beer pong, the usual scene. That is until I feel shivers run up my spine as if someone's watching me.

My breath gets caught in my throat when my eyes meet his emerald ones. He's leaning causally on the door frame- eyes burning into mine. He runs his hands through his curly brown hair, tattoos covering his body in the most mouth watering way. We continue to eye each other until he tries to stifle a small smirk. I quickly avert my eyes as I realize I've been staring. I try to put my attention back on Nat and Ian but I can't concentrate on a word they are saying.

All I can see are his eyes. They were the kind of green mint ice cream gets jealous of. The kind of green that distracts you from everything around. His eyes were the kind of green that get noticed even when you can't see them because his eyes bored straight into my entire being. I could feel his presence getting closer without risking a peak back at him.

"Guys let me introduce you to my new best mate from across the pond or whatever the expression is. This is Harry Styles" Ian pulls him into our small circle but I still don't look up from my beer. I hear Nat make her introductions but I'm still so thrown off by him I'm afraid to look. Suddenly it gets quite and I force my eyes to meet his. He wears a stunning small and leans against the counter I'm on.

"Hey I'm Harry Styles" he mutters while making devastatingly intense eye contact with me. I take a swig of my beer to muster up enough courage to utter just two words to this boy.

"Rory Haven" I say shortly with a small nod. His eyes don't leave mine. "Pleasure to meet you Rory Haven" his silky accent mutters with a wide grin. I unknowingly tilt my head to try to get a read on this boy who has for the first time in my life actually renders me speechless. We continue sizing each other up for God knows how long and his happy smile transforms into an amused one.

It seems as though are moment doesn't go unnoticed by Nat and Ian, as Nat clears her throat with wide eyes and throws me a wink. I clear my head of all previous thoughts as Ian lets out an understanding laugh "Oh be careful with that one Styles she'll break your heart" he says without thinking. Instantly my heart plummets and Nat smacks him on chest "You fucking asshole". Ian's eyes widen with realization and he mutters out an apology. "Shit Rory you know I don't think before I talk, especially after a few beers I'm sorry".

Harry looks between us all with a confused but interested expression. I know Ian didn't mean it the way it came out, he tends to speak before he thinks so I try not to pay it any mind. "No worries Ian".

I quickly clear my throat, stumble off of the counter and excuse myself to the back yard for some fresh air. I ignore the loud music and lean my head back against the wall.

I'm not trying to be dramatic, what Ian said is okay he's just thick headed. My needing air has more to do with the stifling appearance of Harry whose presence alone nearly suffocated me.

A tap on my shoulder wakes me out of my thoughts and a concern looking Nat peers down at me.

"You okay? I already tore Ian a new one and told him to fuck himself tonight because I won't be touching him" I instantly let out a laugh. "I'm fine Nat seriously it was just a little hot in there".

She lets out a scoff and lets out a smirk. "Um a little hot in there? You could cut the sexual tension between you and British boy with a butter knife and you guys only said two words to each other. You guys were totally eye fucking". My eyes grew wide as I instantly shake my head.

"No way I don't know what that was but that definitely not it. I mean it Nat don't go getting any ideas." She taps me on the shoulder sympathetically, "Cmon Rory the first step is admitting that you and British boy will be in the sack faster than Ian can finish a six pack"

Before I can muster out a reply she heads back into crowded house and I close my eyes and take another deep breathe to try to clear my head. Come on Rory get your shit together.

But closing my eyes doesn't help at all because every time I do I see those bright emerald eyes boring into mine. I can't get it out of my head. It wasn't just a look that said he wanted me. It was like he was trying to read me, like he was boring straight into my soul. The thought alone sends shivers down my spine.

When I finally open my eyes to head back into the house I see him standing across from me- a thoughtful expression on his face. I take a quick breathe in to mentally prepare myself for his nearly suffocating presence.

A genuine smile makes its way onto his face as he runs his index finger along his lower lip- instantly drawing my attention to his mouth.

He smirks at me and I clear my throat.

"Would you like to go for a walk with me Rory? It's a bit loud in there."

Without thinking through my reply I quickly respond, "Why?"

He looks puzzled for a second before composing himself, "Why what?"

I drew my bottom lip between my teeth and his eyes immediately dart to my lips. "Why do you want to go for a walk with me Harry?"

He takes a brace step closer to me and he instantly clouds my senses. "You could say that I'd like to get to know you if you'll have me". I meet his eyes with a puzzled expression.

"Well why do you want to get to know me?" I can't help but blurt out. An amused expression hazes over his face.

"You sure know how to make a guy sweat Rory Haven", he playfully shakes his head. I can't fight the smile that breaks across my face and he immediately beams back at me, and it takes my breath away.

He holds his hand out towards me, "Lets try this again, because I'm warning you I won't give up so easily" he jokes, "Would you do me the honor of going for a walk with me Rory?"

My smile grows even wider if possible but I try to stifle it, but I know he noticed. I tentatively placed my hand in his and a shiver ran through my body. He firmly clasped his hand in my and lead me through the back yard. And I couldn't help but get the feeling that whatever this is- it's only the beginning.

[caffeinesblood]

Big Brother 7 - Meet the Contestants - Part Three

Continuing the introduction of the housemates entering the seventh series of reality TV show Big Brother, here are four of the seven men prepared to miss this summer’s World Cup to try and last 13 weeks in the UK’s most intense goldfish bowl environment.

Pete BENNETT Age: 24. From: London. Occupation: Unemployed. Pete is a budding rock ‘n’ roll singer and cartoonist now living in Brighton. He was diagnosed with Tourette’s Syndrome at the age of 14, started wearing women’s clothes aged 16 and impersonated Freddie Mercury at his mother’s wedding. When asked why he wanted to participate on Big Brother he replied: “to reach the top of my spiral to heaven and shine again. Also, if I was to win the money I would like to pay off my mum’s mortgage so she can finally live her life because she looked after me for so long. And I crave fame and would like to be a famous Touretter”. Pete lives alone except for a pet hamster called Magic, who roams freely around his house and lives in the wall.

Shabaz CHAUDRY Age: 37. From: Glasgow. Occupation: Unemployed. Shabaz is single and has been “unemployable” for the last 21 years, although has done a lot of voluntary care work since he was 16, helping the disabled and people with special needs in his local community. He admits that he has never been in love and has never had a boyfriend as he thinks men are afraid of his flamboyant personality. When asked why he wanted to be on Big Brother he replied: “because I’ve never had the flatmate or housemate experience as I’ve lived by myself for nearly 21 years and I want to challenge myself”. He claims he has a phobia of straight-acting homophobic homosexuals and would like to be reincarnated as a woman so that he can have children.

Richard NEWMAN Age: 33. From: Canada. Occupation: Waiter. Richard is single, lives in London and describes himself as a “sexual, passionate and hostile man hunter”. He loves going out all night in Soho and making conquests, but equally enjoys dinner parties and the theatre. When asked why he wanted to go on Big Brother, he replied simply: “just for the money”. He says the person he would least like to find in the house is a woman who is eight months pregnant. He has a strong fear of them and even fears being interviewed by Davina McCall when he leaves the house. Sexism, racism and men who turn down his advances make him angry and if he could pass any law it would be that all straight men must have a homosexual encounter.

Glyn WISE Age:18. From: Blaenau Ffestiniog. Occupation: Part-time lifeguard / Head boy in 6th Form. Glyn is the youngest member of the Big Brother house and is looking forward to receiving nationwide attention and being able to show off his “sexy body to millions”. He is fiercely proud of his Welsh heritage and feels that all Welsh people should speak the language. Glyn aspires to be the first male Page 3 model and is content with his life and body he would like to be reincarnated as himself, declaring: “I am the closest example to perfection”. However, he doesn't get on well with members of the animal kingdom, claiming: “I hate all animals and they hate me”.