#how come guys get to dry text and have slow responses when they’re not into you anymore

[digitaldiseas3]

you know you’re actually toxic when you joke about your “dating” habits and your friends are all like what?? girl why would you do that

[oblxvion]

euphoric | eren jaeger (1)

-> pairing: eren jaeger x f!reader

-> wc: 5.4k

-> warnings: use of marijuana, smut, praise kink, degradation kink, spit kink, oral (f and m receiving), fluff

you were stressed. it was almost the end of the term, and you had spent the past two weeks studying and prepping for your exams because you needed those grades. you had been slipping a lot in your classes but you managed to bring your grades up with the help of your good friend armin. he was extremely smart and honestly, without him, you didn't even want to think about what your grades would be.

“ugh, sasha, i can’t study any more.” you groaned, bringing you head down to into the vast sea of review that you had been going over as per armin’s request. “i need a break, i feel like my brain is going to fucking explode.”

sasha looked over up from her phone and laughed. “it’s gonna be worth it, i promise. once you finish these exams, you’ll be able to relax for a bit. do you wanna smoke later ‘cause we’re all getting together later at eren’s, i forgot to tell you.”

you hadn’t checked your phone in the past few hours so you didn't know that there were plans that had been made. 

you didn’t move your head as you contemplated the thought, it sounded like fun to see everyone and ignore the work you had for at least a bit. exams weren’t for another week and a half, so you should be fine.

“yeah, i'll come.”

“yay! i’ll text the group chat and let them know that we’re gonna leave at around 6.” she squeals as she grabs her phone and starts typing away a text that you soon receive as well.

“ok, i need to nap first. plus it’s like 4 so i’m gonna pass out for a bit.” you got up from the kitchen table and made your way over to your bedroom, beginning to get comfortable. “wake me up at 5.” you yelled so she could hear from her room.

“you got it.” sasha yelled back. you could tell that she said that with food in her mouth. 

“typical.” you chuckled as you felt your body drift off to sleep.

“y/n! hey! wake up! it’s 5:30. i lost track of the time.” sasha tried to shake you awake in which you grumbled in response. 

“ugh, ur so timely.” you joked as you made your way out of your room, and into the shared bathroom. wow i look like shit you thought to yourself as you turned from side to side trying to see all of what you looked like in your oversized sweatshirt and shorts.

there was not enough time for you to get ready to look at least presentable, but you felt gross so you turned on the shower and threw your clothes into your hamper. you put on some music because who showers without music and you made sure to shave because it had been awhile since you had and you wanted to feel clean.

once you had finished, you grabbed a towel and checked the time on your phone. 5:40. perfect.

“y/n, we have like 20 minutes,” sasha called from her room. “do you think you can be ready by then?”

“yeah, i just need to dry my hair and throw on some clothes and i should be good.” you said as you walked into her room, she was pretty much ready to go, and dressed in shorts and a baggy t-shirt. no one really dressed up for these sessions because everyone was already super comfortable with each other.

“ok i’m gonna go change, i don't know if i’ll have enough time to dry my hair though.” 

“you’ll be fine. plus, we can be a bit late, they wouldn’t start without us anyways.” she says with a smile as she puts on a sweatshirt.

you made your way back to your room and threw on a pair of sweatpants, a loose fitting tank top and your favorite pullover. as you made your way back to the bathroom to dry your hair, you found yourself stressing once again about your exams to which you took a deep breathe and reminded yourself that you needed to relax and this was a well deserved break. 

after you finished drying your hair, you quickly ran a brush through it, and put on some deodorant along with your favorite perfume.

“ok sash, i’m ready.” you called from the bathroom as you fixed your appearance for the last time. 

“perfect! i ordered us an uber because i don’t really wanna drive and i know you don't like driving high.” she says as she grabs the last of her things and we make our way out the door and to the bottom of our apartment complex.

“soooo...” 

you look at her as the uber pulls over to the side of the road. “so what?”

“have u been seeing anyone recently?” sasha looks over to you as she gets into the uber after you. 

“how could i? i’ve literally been studying nonstop. i wish though.” you say with a sigh. you had been so preoccupied with studying and getting your grades up that you haven’t had the time to see anyone except friends. “why do you ask?”

“oh, it’s nothing really. i was just curious, you know, being your roommate and all.” somethings up, she’s clearly trying to pick at something and this does not go unnoticed by you.

“ok,” you laughed and shook your head. “whatever you say.”

before you knew it, you both arrived at eren’s apartment complex. for some reason, you felt anxious. you knew the boys that were going to be there but you had this gut feeling that something was going to happen.

the two of you made your way up to his floor and knocked on his door which was opened almost instantly as if he were waiting.

“sasha!” connie exclaimed, embracing the girl into a bear hug. “hey y/n.” 

“hey connie.” you smiled in response. it was really cute how the two of them were so close, it’s almost like they were twins. you made your way into the apartment and saw jean and eren, arguing over god knows what.

“hey guys!” you say as you walked over to the two of them, hugging them both. 

“y/n! it’s been a while. how’s studying with armin?” jean asks as he pulls away from the hug.

“god. don't even get me started. i am in hell. armin’s being so helpful though.” you chuckle as you walked over to eren, who was looking at something on his phone but quickly shoved it away when he saw you coming towards him.

“hey y/n.” he says with his boyish smile as he pulls you into a side hug and you notice that his hand lingers for a bit longer than normal but you smile in response.

“so, can we smoke now that they’re finally here?” connie asks as it was very clear that he was getting impatient. 

“yeah, yeah, let’s go to the deck.” eren’s apartment had a deck with was extremely nice and over time, it had become the signature smoke spot for you guys. it had an outdoor couch and a few chairs along with a small table which was perfect.

you made your way to your favorite spot which was the right corner of the couch so you could be close to the edge of the balcony and look out at the view of the city. everyone had their signature spots, it was like an unspoken rule but everyone followed it. eren next to you on the couch, sasha, jean and connie in the three chairs on the opposite side of the table.

there were some blankets already outside along with a speaker that eren played some music on to set the vibe. 

“since you guys were taking too long, i rolled us a joint so we could smoke sooner.” eren said as he sat down next to you.

“aw, how kind.” you tease him as you nudge yourself against his shoulder, earning a chuckle from him. “dibs on first hit.” 

“aw, c’mon!” jean whined, knowing that you always give the blunt to eren right after you hit. 

“i get priority since eren is my best friend.” you smirk and wait for eren to say anything but he just laughs and shakes his head. 

you and eren had always been close ever since you started school. he even introduced you to everyone, which was the reason why you were here with them now.

eren took out his lighter and lit the joint and passed it to you. you took it between your pointer finger and thumb and took a long drag. 

oh how you had missed this feeling. the feeling of being high with your friends. you passed the blunt back to eren as he took a hit himself and you exhaled the smoke.

the joint was passed around the circle until everyone had gotten a good amount of hits and it was finished. you felt your high and you leaned back into the couch as you closed your eyes.

“tired?” 

you opened your eyes and looked over to eren who’s eyes were red, just like yours. “no, just relaxing. this is nice. i needed this.”

“yeah, i noticed. armin told me that you’d been really stressed lately so i texted asking if people wanted to smoke but you didn't respond so i assumed you were studying,” he says as he stretched his arms and placed them just behind your shoulders.

“thanks,” you laughed as you stared into his turquoise eyes only now noticing how pretty they were. you had looked him in the eyes before but this time it felt different and he felt it too. but your staring was soon broken by sasha’s wails of being hungry.

“there’s food in the fridge, i had takeout last night so there’s probably some leftovers.” eren nods his head towards the inside of his apartment. sasha stood up and made her way towards the food as connie followed her.

“hey! save some for me!” he yelled as he chased after her. all that was left was you, eren and jean. there was clearly some tension in the air but you decided to ignore it.

“ain’t no way i’m gonna be third wheeling right now.” jean huffed quietly and joined the two inside. 

third wheeling? you ignored it because jean obviously knows that you and eren are close friends, nothing more.

oh, how you were wrong.

eren looked over to make sure that there was no way for the others to see the deck and he moved his arm down towards your shoulder. you were shocked by this, but in a way, it was comforting. 

“y/n?” he asked staring off into the distance.

“hm?” 

he didn't respond so you took it upon yourself to look up at him.

“what’s up?”

no response once again.

your lidded eyes becoming heavy as he looked down at you with a tender look on his face. he leaned his face closer to yours until your noses were touching.

“eren?”

his lips connected with yours, igniting a feeling inside your chest that you had pushed away when you first became close. you melted into the kiss and kissed him back in a slow and sensual kiss. eren pulled back and tucked your hair behind your ear as he went back in for another kiss. you didn’t know what to do but the feeling that this gave you, it wasn’t like any other kiss you had before.

“wanted to do this for a long time.” he whispers and rests his nose on yours. 

you didn’t know what to say in response so you pulled him back for another kiss that was interrupted by the three of them coming back out onto the deck. you pulled away quickly, hoping that no one had seen what just happened. eren kept his hand on your shoulder, but no one had asked about it so you just let it slide.

it had been a few days since you had last seen eren. everyone was texting in the group chat about plans for the upcoming days but you had to study, or at least try to study. the kiss that you and eren shared had been replaying in your head ever since it had happened. you knew that he was high and he may not remember it, but it still bugged you and you had to know.

but most importantly, this kiss had sparked feelings inside you that you had pushed away so long ago and it was beginning to get hard to consume them. eren was constantly on your mind, and you couldn’t focus on your work. 

you needed to talk to him but you didn't know how because you didn't know that he had these feelings for you and you didn't know that you still had those feelings for him. you realized that you were ignoring these feelings that you had for him because he was your close friend and you didn’t want that to ruin your relationship.

it was driving you crazy. you needed to talk to him. 

you grabbed your phone and clicked on eren’s contact and called him. it didn’t even finish the first ring.

“hey y/n! what’s up? how’s studying?” he said and you felt your heart swell at him saying your name, which never happened before until now.

“hey, can you come over later? i need to talk to you,” you sigh. this is it, you need to know if he truly had those feelings or he was just playing with you.

“yeah, of course,” he stammered. “is everything ok?”

“yeah, everything's fine, i just wanna talk to you.”

“ok, i can get a ride now if you want me to.” is he eager?

you looked at the time and remembered that sasha was out with connie and jean so she would probably not be coming back tonight.

“actually, yeah, that sounds fine. see you soon, eren.”

“ok, i’ll text you when i’m close.”

“ok,” you ended the call and placed your phone down, taking your head in your hands. you’re overreacting right? he definitely feels for you, why else would he kiss you?

“i need to shower.” you said to yourself, trying to ignore the thoughts in your head.

as you got out of the shower, you heard your phone get a text, which you assumed to be eren. walking back to your room, you heard a knock at the door and you froze. you were still in a towel and debating whether or not you should open the door for him, which you did because you didn't want to leave him standing out there.

“hey y/n, oh,” he stops and looks you up and down. 

“sorry, i just got out of the shower.” you say as you open the door and motion for him to come inside. “can you just wait a sec while i go put some clothes on?”

“oh, uh, yeah. i’ll wait in the kitchen.” he looks around and scratches the back of his head nervously. his hair was tied back into a messy bun like usual and wearing gray sweatpants with a black shirt and his chain peeking out from under it. “you good?” he asked as he took off his shoes.

oh my god, was i staring?

“oh, yeah, i'm fine. i just spaced out a bit, sorry.” you chuckle nervously, tucking a piece of your wet hair behind your ear. “i’ll be right back.”

“take your time.”

you made your way back to your room and threw hung your town on your closet door as you looked for clothes to wear. you opted for a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt that was sasha’s but for some reason, it was in your closet. once you had finished changing, you made your way over to the mirror that was across for your bed to make sure that you looked fine.

“ok, breathe.” you exhaled and opened your door calling for eren to come into your room.

he came into your room, still clearly feeling awkward about your interaction from before. “nice room, i like the led lights you have.” 

“thanks,” you laughed and sat on the bed, motioning for him to come sit next to you, which he did.

“so, what's on your mind y/n?” he asks, leaning up against the headboard and trying to get comfortable. 

“i don’t know, i've just been thinking about some things recently, and i can't seem to get them out of my head.” ok, good start.

“like what?” he looks over at you. oh no, don't look at me like that.

“the kiss we shared a few days ago, it’s been in my head on repeat.”

eren looks confused and looks towards your mirror, “is that a bad thing?”

“huh? i mean no, it’s not, i just don’t know what to do because these feelings have come back that i pushed away from when we became close because i didn’t want to ruin our friendship. but right now, it’s consuming me and i don’t know what to do.”

“well, i wouldn’t have kissed you without having feelings for you, y/n. i don’t know how you didn't notice it. i’ve been kinda bad at hiding it.” he said calmly as his gaze remained in front of the two of you. “but if you didn’t like it, we can just forget about it. i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” he turns to look at you once again. 

“no, i enjoyed it actually, but...” you trail off nervously, feeling your face becoming hot. you tried to turn away but his hand grabbed your chin and turned you back to face him. 

“but what?” he says softly, looking into your eyes which caused your heart beat to pick up. he thought it was so cute how you were getting so flustered by him.

“but i don’t want to be played...” you averted his gaze.

“y/n, i would never play you.”

you look back at him, now knowing the answer that had been bothering you for the past few days. it took all your strength to not kiss him right there but he beat you to it, closing the gap between the two of you. in that moment, all your worries had washed away, feeling content and glad that you had this conversation with him. the kiss soon escalated into you and eren sliding your tongues into the others mouth. you felt yourself getting hot once again but this time, a completely different reason. eren brought his hand that was on your chin behind your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss as you melted into his mouth once again, whimpering at the feeling. eren could feel it go straight to his dick that was now straining in his pants, trying to contain himself because he didn't know whether you wanted this or not.

“let me show you how much i care for you, yeah?” he says as he pulls away for a brief second. 

“eren, please,” you whimper as his lips met yours once again but this time with more passion. eren then moved so he was on top of you, caging you in his arms as he continued to kiss you. “i want you.”

“’want you too, baby.” the pet name going straight to your core. eren moaned as he moved from your lips down to your neck, gently kissing and sucking to leave a mark. he then placed his hands at the bottom of your shirt, looking at you as if he was asking with his eyes for permission to undress you, you nodded your head vigorously and lifted your hands up so he could take it off. 

“no bra? it’s like you’re begging me to fuck you, angel.” he then brought his lips down to your left nipple, gently sucking on it while taking the other between his fingers, moving it around earning a moan from you at the feeling. he then moved over to the right and did the same action. “you’re so beautiful.”

“ohmygod please, please,” you knew you sounded desperate, but you couldn't help yourself. you had been denying the fact that you had wanted this for so long.

“use your words, tell me what you want.” he groaned and came back up to kiss you, relishing in the feeling of your lips against his.

“’wanna feel you,”

“where, pretty girl?” he sat up at looked down at you with a smirk on his face, he knew where you wanted him but he wanted, no needed to hear you say it. 

“’want you inside me eren, please,” you whined arching your back so he could get the message. he chuckled and brought himself back down towards your sternum, placing wet kisses as he made his way down to the waistband of your shorts. 

“can i?” he looked up at you and immediately saw the approval in your eyes. “you don’t know what you do to me, do you?” you whimper at his remark, lifting your hips up in the process so he could take your shorts off easier to reveal your thong and the painfully obvious wet spot. he placed a finger on your slit, dragging it down slowly, teasing you.

“stop teasing me,” you whined, trying to prop yourself on your elbows but to caught up with the euphoric feeling that you couldn't. eren slowly took off your panties to tease you even more, and threw them behind him onto the floor.

“fuck, baby. this all for me?” he looked up at you with his jade green eyes meeting your e/c ones. he could feel the precum running down his shaft, struggling to keep his composure.

“yes eren, all for you.” your breath hitched as he spit onto your needy heat, bringing his tongue down to your clit, giving it a few kitten licks before he quickened his pace and wrapped his left arm around your leg to keep you in place, not once breaking eye contact. “fuck, keep doing that, holy shit!” you could feel him smirk against your core, and if it couldn't get any better, you felt a finger at your entrance before sliding in. “eren!” he felt so embarrassed to be rutting his cock against the bed but the noises you were making were sinful and he couldn’t help himself.

you began to feel your stomach tighten as he added another finger into your hole and picked up the pace. the sensation was incredible, the feeling of his tongue on your clit and the pace of his fingers going in and out of your pussy. your slick was dripping down his fingers, it was driving him crazy. he felt you tighten around his fingers, you were close.

“’gonna, ‘m gonna cum eren, please,” your release was so close, you just needed one more push.

“c’mon baby, cum for me.” he groaned against your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your whole body and you felt the coil snap. the moan you let out was pure sin and eren thought he was going to cum on the spot. “that’s it baby, good fucking girl.” as you got down from your high, you realized that he didn’t stop, you were sensitive, eren knew that but he needed one more from you.

“eren it’s too much, fuck,” you cry out as he brings his mouth back down to your heat and you can already feel yourself getting close again, and he could tell. you came even quicker this time, your juices gushing all over eren’s tongue. he lapped all of it up, not letting a single drop go to waste, and then taking his fingers covered in your slick into his mouth.

“you taste so good, i couldn’t get enough of you.” he whispers as he comes back up to kiss you. you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue. you reach down towards his throbbing cock, but he shook his head. “this is about you, baby.”

“please?” you look up at him and he couldn’t say no. he knew that he would not last long if you did as much as place your tongue on his tip. noticing that he didn't say anything, you took this as your chance. you flipped him over so that you were on top, and you could feel how hard he was. you grabbed the bottom of his shirt and helped him take it off, revealing his perfectly toned chest with chiseled abs. he threw the shirt to another place in the room, pulling you into another kiss shortly after. you moved from his lips down to his neck and down his chest stopping at his sweatpants to pull them down along with his boxers, revealing his swollen tip leaking with precum. he was larger than average and it excited you every bit. you smirked to yourself, and placed your lips on his tip, his breath hitched at the feeling.

you began to slowly drag your tongue down his shaft, maintaining eye contact with him, just like he did with you. you then took him in your mouth seeing how his legs tensed, you began to go even further. 

eren was trying so hard not to grab your head and push you onto his dick, afraid that he was going to ruin the moment with you and be too aggressive. you then took your mouth off with saliva connecting from his tip to your lips and then went back down taking him all in your throat before bobbing your head up and down, coming up for air while jerking him off. the sounds he was making went straight to your warmth, making you wetter by the minute.

“keep doing that, fuck y/n,” he groaned as his will vanished and he took your hair in his hands beginning to help guide you on his dick. he ran his hand through his hair and looked back at you, knowing that this image will forever be imprinted in his head. his legs tensed and you felt it, he was close. “fuck, i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna fucking cum.” he groaned as he shot thick white ropes of cum down your throat, you gladly took all of it and opened your mouth to show him that you did. 

“fuck, you did so good, so good.” he pulled you up towards him as you laughed into the kiss, and suddenly you were back on the bottom. “but now i’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy, yeah?” he aligned himself with your entrance and your mind became fuzzy with the feeling of his tip right where you needed him most. he slowly pushes himself in but you didn’t need to adjust, and he began to move at a steady pace.

“oh fuck,” eren threw his head back at the sensation of finally being inside of you, the way your walls grazed his dick, pulling him back him. it was addictive, and he couldn’t get enough of it. “you feel so fucking good y/n.”

“fuckfuckfuck, ’m gonna cum eren.” the feeling came back embarrassingly quick but you didn’t care, the feeling was amazing.

“yeah? you’re gonna fucking cum? cum on my cock. cum on my fucking cock.” eren growled as his chain was in your face. hearing him be so demanding and aggressive set something off and you felt yourself release but this time it was different, arching your back at the feeling. eren was taken aback by the fact that he made you squirt, it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

“that’s it, squirt all over my fucking cock.” he rode you out of your orgasm and continued to plow you into the mattress, picking up his pace. he was close but not quite there yet. you had taken into account that eren was aggressive in bed but he was being gentle with you at first, and you loved every bit of it. you wanted to make it more interesting. before you could even think, your hand met his cheek, and eren looked at you with a shocked expression but his eyes grew dark with lust. 

“fuck me like you mean it, jaeger.” you growled, hoping to get a reaction out of him. and oh boy, did it get a reaction.

“yeah? fuck you like i mean it?” he slapped you across the face, and then grabbed your cheeks and spit into your mouth. “swallow it.” if you thought you couldn’t get turned on anymore, you were so wrong. you rutted your hips against his, moaning at the sensation. this side of you was so different, and eren fucking loved it. he grabbed your throat, squeezing it and making you look him in the eyes as he fucked you with force.

“look at you, never knew you could be such a slut.” the name made you clench around him like a vice, earning a groan from him. “taking my cock so fucking well.” the feeling of you tightening around his cock for the 2nd time that night was making him lose his mind, he wasn’t going to last any longer and he knew that you weren’t either. he brought his hand that was around your neck down to your neglected clit and began rubbing circles as his pace became erratic. he was so close and so were you, but he needed you to come with him, he had to feel that feeling again. 

“fuck, i’m so close baby. fucking cum with me,” he moaned as he brought his head to your neck, you brought your arms and wrapped them around him, bringing him closer to you. before you could even comprehend, you released your juices, spraying all over his pelvis as he came shortly after you, painting your insides white. he stilled, trying to catch his breath but to his shock, you flipped him so that you were on top once again.

“not done yet.” you moaned as you began to grind yourself onto his cock. eren still so sensitive from his past orgasm that he was barely holding on by a string. seeing you on top of him, the way your breasts bounce and the way you look from this angle is driving him insane. he knows that he’s not going to last like this, the way you’re riding him, he grabs onto your hips and guides you.

you’re so overstimulated, you can’t even think straight. eren is trying so hard not to cum before you, but your pussy is milking him dry and before he knew it, he came inside you once again, legs shaking from the overstimulation. you lifted yourself off him and began to frantically rub your clit as you squirted all over his chest and pelvis. eren stared at you in awe, the way you looked like when you came and knowing that it was from him was a huge boost to his ego.

you finally collapsed onto his chest, trying to calm your breathing as he wrapped his arms around you. the both of you basked in this silence, thinking about the sex you just had.

“hope i wasn’t too rough, i kinda got carried away.” eren chuckled as he ran his fingers down your back, earning a laugh from you.

“no not at all, i really liked it actually.” you looked up at him, placing your chinos his chest. 

“I'm glad, been wanting to do that for a while,” he paused, as if he was looking for the right words to say. “i really like you, y/n.”

your heartbeat quickened, and you gave him a quick peck on the lips. “i really like you too, eren.” you blushed, “stay the night.” you didn't have class the following morning, so it was fine.

“ok, will do.” he squeezed you tighter, and you utterly being exhausted, you felt yourself drift off to sleep. eren gently moved you over and walked into the bathroom, finding a small towel and cleaning you and himself up. he grabbed you a new pair of underwear from your closet and the his shirt on the floor, dressing you before he put his sweatpants back on.

you felt the bed dip and a pair of arms bring your back to his chest and press a kiss to your cheek.

“’night y/n.”

© all content belongs to oblxvion 2021, do not repost or change.

[clouditae]

Sugar and Spice | 01

Taehyung x reader | Jungkook x reader | 18+ | two part | smut | swearing

Word: 3.8k

Your friends ask you whether you prefer sugar or spice

Thank you @guktro​ for letting me add you in here again~

Chapter Index

"Y/N." You look up to see Taehyung and Jungkook walking into the kitchen as you put your pencil down. "We need your opinion on something," Taehyung tells you, resting his hands on the table.

"On what?" you ask, eyes going back down to the homework in front of you.

"When it comes to sex," he begins, your attention back to the brunette, "do you prefer sugar or spice?"

You frown in confusion. "Sugar or spice? What does that mean?"

"What he means is do you prefer vanilla sex or rough sex?" Jungkook corrects, shaking his head at his older roommate’s version of the question.

Your face contorted in shock. "What kind of question is that?"

"Just answer," Taehyung tells you.

You could only sigh, "I don't know. It's been a while. Why are you asking anyway?"

"Jungkook thinks vanilla sex is what people prefer compared to some good ol' rough sex," he answers.

"Who wants to have constant rough sex every time you get together? Sure it's good, but vanilla is where you connect and actually make love," Jungkook defends.

Taehyung waves him off. "Sex is rough, kinky and a bunch of orgasms."

"What do you think, Y/N?" Jungkook asks you, taking a step closer to the table to stand next to Tae.

You shake your head. "I told you already. It's been a while so I don't really know–"

Taehyung cuts you off, "Then let's have sex."

You choke on the air you inhaled too quickly. "What?"

"Tae's right. Let's have sex to see which is better," Jungkook agrees, crossing his arms over his chest. "At least then I can prove him right."

"You *do know I'm your friend right? You're asking a friend to have sex with the both of you just to see who's right?"

"We've seen each other naked before Y/N. It's not like we're going in blind." Tae shrugs, standing up straight.

"On accident," Jungkook adds, as if he's actually making this easier.

"For you maybe. It was a blessing for me," Taehyung mumbles, his eyes scanning you up and down. What is going on?

"No. I'm not doing it. You two are absolutely nuts," you deny, shaking your head as you turn your attention back to your homework in front of you.

"C'mon, Y/N. Not only do you get to open up the gates, but you get to say you've fucked two of seven of your friends," Taehyung persuades, and the sad part is that it was working a bit.

You shake your head again. "Y/N," Jungkook begins, trying to persuade you as well, "you won't be having sex with the both of us at the same time. We'll be separated and you can pick who you want first. Plus it doesn't have to be today. You can think about it."

"Tomorrow I need answers. If you choose not to–which is a mistake because you're the only person we trust to lose our friendginity to, I'll have to call other people," Taehyung states before giving you a wave and leaving the kitchen.

Jungkook looks to Tae leaving and then to you. He gives you an awkward smile. "He's very forward, but I just want to let you know we won't be mad if you choose not to do this. I understand not wanting to lose our friendship or it being weird after. I'll talk to him, but think about it, Y/N."

After that whole conversation, you really didn't have enough focus to do your homework so you left the boy's apartment and went home. The entire day was filled with nothing but that conversation. Do you want to do this? Is it smart? What Jungkook said was right. If you do this your friendship with the both of them could end in a blink of an eye. Yet since the first day you accidentally saw them naked on different occasions, you couldn't help but imagine having what other people experienced happen to you. Now they're asking you and you're beyond indecisive.

You shake your head of those thoughts as you take a seat at the edge of your bed, drying your hair with the towel after a long shower. It's dumb–it's stupid to think of doing it with the both of them. It's *beyond dumb. Tossing your towel on the armchair, you get up and climb into bed and lie under the blanket, staring at the ceiling for a bit. After a very convincing conversation with yourself, you grab your phone off the nightstand next to you and send a group text.

[10:54 pm] Me: I'm in

Setting the phone down next to you, you ignored every notification that went off and forced yourself to go to sleep. At least you tried to sleep. The following morning you were a mess with half open lids, sleep trying to consume you once again, and mind racing with fear and excitement. You showered again and basically shaved everything you possibly could.

The boys never messaged you after you sent the text, so your mind was in complete wonder as to what they’re thinking. What if they were joking? What if you were imagining everything and this is all one weird dream? Leaving the bathroom with your towel wrapped around your body, your phone chimes. You practically run to your bed and grab your phone, unlocking it and clicking on the message.

[2:10 pm] Tae: Be at the apartment in an hour

Letting out a shaky breath you get up from your bed and go to your underwear drawer. You dig and dig until you find a cute pair of black laced bra and panties. You felt a little ridiculous as to how hard you’re trying to look just to get fucked by your friends. Looks shouldn’t matter, but here you are putting on a tight, off the shoulder crop top. You even tug on the front just so your push up bra can show your cleavage more. Putting on a pair of high waist high jeans and boots, you begin to do your hair and makeup. You made sure to not overdo it with the makeup and hair, but when you look at yourself, you can’t help but think you did. You almost wanted to do it over again, but when you checked the time on your clock in front of you, there was no time left.

Grabbing all the essentials you needed, you head out of your apartment and towards your car.

A short drive later you pull into the parking lot and find a spot. In a few minutes you’re going to knock on the apartment door and meet Taehyung on the other side. In a few minutes you’ll be having sex with him and having the time of your life as he pounds into you like you’re a doll–

You pick up the pace to the elevator. The lobby was empty as you pressed the button and tap your foot in impatience for the doors to open. The elevator dings as the doors open. Entering, you press the floor button and the close doors button as if you’re about to be attacked by a ghost or something as the doors finally shut and the elevator jerks and ascends. You take deep breaths to slow your racing heart as you watch the numbers rise. When everything comes to a stop and the doors open, you exit the elevator and make your way down the hall towards Taehyung and Jungkook's apartment. You knock on the last door at the end of the hall, taking in your final deep breath and wait in silence for the door to open.

You hear the door unlocking and it opens to reveal not Taehyung but Jungkook. "Hey, Y/N," he tells you, looking a bit awkward.

"Hey," you reply. "I thought I'd see Tae since he texted me."

Jungkook shakes his head and opens the door wider for you to enter. "He had business to take care of today, so you'll see him tomorrow or something," he answers, closing the door behind you once you enter.

"Tomorrow?"

He shrugs. "If you want to meet him tomorrow, or you can reschedule to another day." You follow Jungkook into the living room, but he stops short and you almost run into him. "The living room isn't a good idea," he mumbles more to himself than to you as he turns down the hall and towards his room with you following close behind. "So what kind of sex do you usually have?"

"I never really thought of it," you confess, walking into his room as he closes it and locks it behind you.

"Were none of them memorable?"

You shake your head, meeting eyes with him as he stands in front of you. "I know a lot of them were just quick. The guy usually finished before I got anywhere."

Jungkook holds his hand out towards you. "I'll take your stuff," he says, grabbing your bag and keys as you hand them to him. "So you haven't experienced good sex in a while," he concludes, placing your bag on his chair at the corner of the room.

"I guess," you say, watching him as he turns to look back at you. "Are you comfortable with all this?"

"At first I was nervous, but honestly..." he trails off, scratching the back of his head. "When I saw your ass in those pants, I'm not anymore." You could feel the heat rise on your face. "Are you?"

You shrug. "I don't know honestly."

He hums in response. "What if I just kissed you first? See what happens then?" The nerves were getting to you, but you nod. He walks up to you and stops close enough for you to feel the heat radiate off him. The quiet, reserved boy–man you know as, is now taking control of the situation and you're acting like he normally would around girls. He cups your cheeks and softly kisses your lips. Your eyes flutter to a close as you kiss back with caution. Jungkook, on the other hand, was kissing you as if you were his girlfriend. He started off slow and sweet, but he then removes his hands from your face and grabs your hands. He brings them up and around his shoulder as his go to your waist.

He brushes his tongue along your lips and explores your mouth as his thumbs rub your skin. You shiver as you felt more at ease kissing him, running your fingers through his midnight locks. His hands travel up and under your top, cupping your clothed breast. It seems like Jungkook isn't as reserved as you thought, and probably has a lot of experience having sex with a girl. He pulls back and says, "Thanks for doing this." He grabs the bottom of your shirt and pulls it up and off you. "If you hadn't agreed, I think Tae said he'd call Gray, and he is very much like Taehyung"–he tosses your shirt on the ground, letting you pull his shirt off him–"feisty and likes it rough. I wouldn't have won that round, but I'm meeting with Gray next week." He puts his hands on your waist and lifts you up. You wrap your legs around him. "I like it rough from time to time."

He walks over to his bed and gently lays you down. His lips are back on yours as his hands go for your pant button. When the button was off you lifted your waist and let him pull them off. You arch your back to let him remove your bra as well, leaving you almost completely naked. 

Jungkook kisses his way down your jawline, neck and chest until he reaches a breast. You close your eyes enjoying the feeling of his lips kissing your breast before they find your nipple. His tongue brushes along the nipple while his other hand plays with your other boob. He sucks and bites, pulling back just enough for you to feel very little pain before letting go to play with the other.

You run your hand through his hair, pulling it a little rough and moaning when he bit you a little too hard. He kisses your tender breast and then makes his up back to your lips. He mumbles an apology against your lips as he kisses you, his fingers leaving a hot trail down your stomach towards your lower region. His two fingers brush along your panties and push in at your bud. You breathe deeply in as he forms small circular motions. You could feel yourself getting wet as you opened your legs wider for him.

You break the kiss turning your head away as you let out a moan. Jungkook kisses your neck, his fingers no longer on your bud but now moving under your cloth to touch you with nothing in the way. He runs along your slit earning another shiver from you. Working his magic with his fingers Jungkook brushes his tongue along your neck and then bites your skin lightly. You moan a bit louder as he enters two fingers inside you, taking his time as he works in and out.

“Jungkook,” you moan, your lips finding his again as you moan into his mouth. Swiveling your hips to his motion, Jungkook noticed your desperate need and picked up the pace. The kiss breaks as he sits up on his knees. He keeps his fingers in you as he uses his other hand to push your panties down and off. You lifted your hips to give him better ease before your body jerks as he finds your spot. “Ah–right there,” you struggle to say, closing your eyes and clutching the sheets.

You could feel the build up, but it’s slow and makes you want to feel him inside you already. It’s as if he’s taking his time to just let you have a moment, but it’s slow and tease-like. That’s something you would never think Jungkook would do. From all the years you’ve known him, Jungkook always seemed like the kind of person who gives. He never takes. You gasp and arch your back when you feel his mouth on your bud. He laps his tongue, flicks and sucks on your clit with such precision and ease it felt like he’s been doing this all his life. You’ve never felt this much pressure build in such a short amount of time.

“I’m close,” you say harshly, chest heaving and sweat dripping as Jungkook picks up his pace with his fingers and sucks as if he’s sucking on an ice pop. “Oh my–Jungkook.” The pressure is too much to handle by now, and you’re ready to explode with sheer ecstasy. “Fuck–Jungkook.” You repeat his name like a mantra as you release your orgasm, body trembling and breath caught in your throat as he continues until you stop shaking. You gasp for air and blink away the stars as Jungkook pulls out his fingers and removes his lips from your sensitive clit.

He stares down at you. “Wow, you’re sweating,” he comments, wiping his chin.

“How long have you been doing this? That’s the best experience I’ve had in such a long time.”

He chuckles, “Practice,‌ Y/N. It’s not with a lot of women, but the same group of women I’ve been with for a while.”

You slowly sit up. “Well I have to repay you. My body needs a minute before we get to the main part of all this.”‌ You move to the side of the bed and pat the middle. “Lie down.”‌ Jungkook does as he’s told and lies on his back next to you. Moving yourself between his legs, you lean forward and kiss him softly. Biting his lower lip, your hands drift down his toned stomach, feeling every inch you could. He shivers at your touch. “How often do you get attention?” you whisper, hands reaching his pants.

“Every so often,” he sighs as you unbutton his jeans.

You smile as you pull the zipper down. “Well now it’s time to show my appreciation and how you should be treated.” Leaning back you pull his pants and boxers down and off. When you saw him naked all those months ago, you didn’t get that chance to just *look at him. Now you’re going to take advantage of seeing his sculpture shaped body before you get to feel him. With all his working out, his six pack is there without him even having to flex. His hips–like everyone said, was small which made his torso look bigger. With your eyes drifting down you gulped at the sight of his penis. It was actually bigger than any dick you’ve ever had inside you. It was already erect and begging you to ride it.

Without much thought you lean down and take his shaft in your hand. Licking the tip Jungkook hisses and flinches. You’ve never heard or seen him look vulnerable in front of you, and now you’re the reason he’s shutting his eyes and panting at just a simple lick. You wonder what he would be like when you actually *suck. Taking the tip into your mouth you lightly suck, tasting the pre cum that coated the tip of your tongue. Jungkook’s simple moan urged you to go deeper and with each moan and gasp you went further until you couldn’t take any more of him. Hollowing out your cheeks you go back up until you’ve reached the tip once again; then you go back down and swirl your tongue around his shaft.

“Oh shit,” he gasps, his hands going to your hair but let’s go. As if he’s unsure what he should be doing. You grab his hand that lies next to him and put it back at the top of your head and meet his hazy gaze. “Let me know if it hurts,” he rasps, grabbing all the loose hair and grips it tight as he guides you slowly. His breath hitches as he brings you down but halfway–less than what you pushed yourself to take in. “Ah,”‌ he gasps, “you feel so good.”‌ You’re pushed back up and then further down than before. Jungkook was losing himself because of you and you absolutely loved it. Although he was the one guiding you, you couldn’t help but go down faster than he was guiding and you went *further than earlier. Your eyes watered and you gagged but you continued to go deeper until there was nothing left to take in, and it was all because of his moans and pleas. With one hand you reach beneath you and cup his balls. You fondled with them as you picked up the pace until he was no longer in charge but you were and you were causing him so much pleasure his words no longer made sense. “Fuck okay,” he manages to get out as you finally pull back with a popping sound. You meet eyes with him as he gasps. “I can’t wait any longer.”‌

You smile in delight as you crawl forward and straddle him. Watching him as you grab his shaft, bring it closer to your dripping warmth and slowly go down as he fills you up, his face contorts in pure pleasure as you let out a moan. He places his hands on your hips as you come to a stop and sit for a moment. Seeing him and all that you can do to him was just magical.

“You’re warm,” he tells you, gripping your hips as you lift yourself. “Fuck.”

Placing your hands on his stomach you begin your rhythm at a slow place, swiveling your hips every now and then. The way he filled you in all the right places, he was quickly filling up your need for another high again. You bounce at a faster and hard pace as the sounds of your moans and skin slapping fill the room and maybe the neighbor’s as well. His hands make its way up to trace the curve of your body, the outline of your breasts before they’re at the back of your neck and pull you down towards him. The two of you kiss as Jungkook takes control and thrusts up into you. You’re moaning into his mouth as he goes at a quick speed that forced you to put your hands on the bars to keep still. Jungkook curses as he spins the two of you around in one swift movement with him on top.

“I need to be deeper,”‌ he grunts, putting your legs over his shoulders as he thrusts into you harder. He breathes out, “Fuck you’re tight. How long has it been?”‌ No words left your mouth but the moans that were loud and desperate to reach your orgasm. “What about squirting?” Removing your legs from off his shoulders, he pushes one leg open wider and uses his other hand to create quick circular motions on your clit. You yell out his name and grab his arm, but he doesn’t stop. He ignores your cries as he continues his hip and hand movements until you’re screaming out his name and explode into an orgasm as the stars invade your sight.

His hand is no longer on your clit and leg as he places them on either side of you, leaning forward to kiss you as he finishes off his ride and reaches his own high. You cup his cheeks and kiss him as you whimper from every movement. He finally comes to a stop, breathing heavily against your lips as you do the same.

“That was amazing,” you tell him, breath hitching as he pulls out. “If this is your version of vanilla sex I need more of it.”‌

Jungkook chuckles as he kisses you one last time before moving to the side of you. “My point of vanilla is to feel that connection and to just want to give your partner more than you’re receiving.”

You nod removing strands of your hair away from your sweaty face. “I get it. Seeing you look desperate was *everything.”‌ Jungkook can only laugh.

After a slow and wobbly change, you leave Jungkook’s room and head towards the living room. Taehyung sat on the couch lazily clicking through the channels until he saw you enter. He grins. “Sounds like you were having the time of your life,” he teases, the television no longer of interest.

“You heard?” you ask, shocked that he was here when you were still having sex with Jungkook.

“Only the last minute of it. You’re a screamer.”

“That’s what I aim to win, Taehyung.”‌ Jungkook disclosed, standing next to you.

“Guess we’ll see tomorrow.” Taehyung shrugs, giving you a wink.

[ayellowcurtain]

Let me make you go down in history

Chapter 2

Simon watches him sleep again, thinking about their conversation last night. They never openly talk about the one talk that started all of the ones that followed, they just continue living their lives like months hadn't passed in between.

He thinks about when Wilhelm told him he loved Simon, and he didn’t say it back even though he felt it, very much so. He thinks about the texts Wilhelm sent him late at night after the first talk, outside his home before the holidays.

I want you

I WANT YOU

That’s what I want, Simon

And it felt overwhelmingly horrible because he found himself in that moment knowing Wilhelm so well he could read the hurt in those words, that Simon told him to figure out what he wanted like it wasn’t obvious, and that Wilhelm was hurt that Simon doubted him, even if for a second. He meant his words but maybe he wasn’t good at expressing them properly to Wilhelm. Simon doesn’t doubt his feelings, or how hard the whole situation is, your life suddenly changing upside down and then all over again in the space of weeks, between them meeting and Eric dying.

He didn’t reply to those texts either. They didn’t talk for almost three whole weeks. Simon was the one to give in, to check on Wilhelm, and it took him almost a whole day to get an answer.

He could still feel that Wilhelm was hurt by what he had told him the last time they met, but he could also tell Wilhelm was upset to be home, to be right in the middle of the reality he didn’t want to live, that he tried so hard to avoid but it wasn’t really his choice to make. He felt so cold, and tired, even through text, after the long wait to get any answers when Wilhelm was always so quick to answer when they were good.

Last night, while they were lying in the dark, right next to each other, still with barely to no touch or intimacy, Wilhelm said, “I’m not living the life I want. I don’t have any power to choose either. And it hurts me to think the only person that truly knows me thinks I’m choosing to not be with them.”

Simon moved to really look at Wilhelm but he kept looking up, like he was just voicing his thoughts to himself, and not to Simon right there. One of his arms underneath his head, and the other one just carelessly playing with his hair, getting very long at the top.

“Your friends don’t even know you like me. They know we had sex, that there’s a fucking...stupid sex tape out there. All the drama, and the shit. But they don’t know we were actually falling in love, that I wasn’t just...a guy that you were hooking up with.”

Simon knew Wilhelm meant his words, that he was being serious but it’s hard to take him serious when Simon thinks about how he’s the crown prince, the sweetest boy he’s ever met, and how what worries him is that Simon’s friends think they’re a random hook up, and nothing else.

“What?” Wilhelm propped himself on one elbow, a little bit of his worry being forgotten in the back of his mind, smiling at Simon. “What are you laughing about? I’m serious, Simon!”

“I know! I know!” He tried to stop laughing, taking deep breaths in, “It’s just that you have...so many other things to worry about.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Wilhelm…” Simon held himself back from telling Wilhelm about how he’s about to become a king, taking care of so many strangers he doesn’t even know, a whole nation, countless different realities he has absolutely no idea about. He didn’t have to say it then and he doubts he’ll ever have to do it.

Simon knows it by being around Wilhelm, by watching every action being thought through over and over again, every word that Wilhelm holds himself back from saying, he knows that Wille is aware of how much responsibility he carries, liking it or not.

“You are the love of my life.”

Simon feels his mouth dry just thinking about it again, how speechless he was, looking at Wilhelm that seemed so calm and certain, like that was a natural conclusion he came to on the spot, finally turning to look straight at Simon.

They’re still so young. But he knows what Wilhelm was talking about, the feeling at least, that this is not something everyone has the opportunity to feel, especially not this young. Some people might live their whole lives without experiencing what they feel when they’re together.

"I really like you. And your smell..." Wilhelm moved slowly from his back to his stomach, half lying on top of Simon, gently nuzzling against his neck, breathing so slow it made Simon's skin go rough, and sensitive.

"And your taste..." He kissed Simon's neck, making him close his mouth, pressing his lips tightly together to not make a single noise that he knows he can do.

"Wille..."

Wilhelm purred in response, and Simon tried to breathe normally, putting his hand on the back of Wilhelm's neck, squeezing to ground himself, holding himself back from giving in, finally kissing Wilhelm.

"Stop..."

He did as he was told, and looked at Simon, with his messy hair, bright red cheeks, and sad eyes, clearly sad that Simon is still very much trying to keep their close friendship just a friendship.

He moved back, avoiding meeting Simon's eyes, lying back in bed, looking up at the boring, white ceiling.

“Sorry…”

Wilhelm lifted his hips up to turn, moving heavily to lie on his other side, his back to Simon, his arms crossed awkwardly over his chest, and Simon snuggled closer, putting his arms around Wilhelm’s waist, burying his nose against his back, holding his hands when Wilhelm adjusted his position to hold his hands.

“Don’t leave me.”

“Never.” Simons squeezed his hands, kissing his back. “I’ll never leave you, Wilhelm.”

“I’m doing things on your terms.”

Simons smiled, closing his eyes, pushing his face against Wilhelm’s back.

He’s so perfect, still asleep in the same position they were last night. And it’s so hard not to be with him completely.

Wilhelm listens to Simon like very few could even try, and Simon is amazed that he’s real, and that he likes Simon, having the whole world on his feet, Wilhelm likes Simon.

Wilhelm opens his hands suddenly in his still half asleep haze, and their fingers intertwine again, and it doesn’t take long until they fall asleep holding each other tight again. Simon wishes he was even more present to hold Wilhelm tighter if he knew what would come after.

The holiday weeks away from each other felt shorter than the months that came after that night. Looking back now, Wilhelm’s words now feel like a warning. Simon never really wanted them to be apart, he just needed Wilhelm to understand life doesn’t go as he wants and when he wants it, at his pace, that Simon would just sit quietly, and accept half a person because he’s sure he deserves better.

Wille needs the time, and the space to focus on himself. Or at least Simon thought he could understand all of that while still being around, as a friend, his best friend. Simon said Wilhelm needed to figure out what he wanted because it would be easier if they kept some distance between them. Wilhelm had a lot going on, and Simon didn’t want to be in his way, holding him back - or himself back - in any way.

So Wilhelm found a way to keep himself busy and distant. Or studying, or with his bodyguards working out very early in the morning, or with the boys, his friends that slowly filled some of the space Simon had left.

They still talked, it seems impossible for them to be completely away from each other, but Wilhelm was distant, like he didn’t want to get too close, afraid to cross Simon’s limits or to get too close and not be able to hold himself back.

Even from afar, Simon knew Wilhelm wasn’t doing as good as he pretended to be doing. His nails were so short, the corners of his fingers were always bruised. While in class, he kept tapping his feet, taking too many long breaths, trying to calm himself.

Simon thought about reaching out, just hugging him to see if it would help, but he held himself back. He was the one that said Wilhelm needed to figure things out, that things weren’t going to be as Wilhelm wanted...

Months went by filled with the growing anxiety in both of them, and with that, Simon started to lose his mind slowly with the lack of Wilhelm, of talking to him, of just being close to him with nobody else around, making sure he was okay. He missed how they were around each other, how he felt when he was in constant contact with Wilhelm, being themselves, he missed kissing him…

To Wille: hey

He texts him late at night again, feeling stupid for how anxious he gets, how his eyes start to water with frustation, and anger, and the overwhelming yearning.

To Simon: hi

To Wille: are you busy?

The bubbles appear, and disappear and Simon rolls his eyes, feeling like throwing his phone against the nearest wall.

To Simon: no haha

It’s late, I’m in bed.

Why?

Did something happen?

Simon shakes his head, closing his eyes not to cry. Fuck it, he thinks as he types quickly.

To Wille: I miss you

Can we meet?

He keeps checking but he never gets a text back. Simon drops his phone on his bed and gets up, walking around in stupidly small circles because he’s staying at school this year after all. He couldn’t let his sister stay here alone, and she was happy to find her magical way to put him inside too.

Wilhelm is too good of a listener, too polite and good to disobey any order, ever. This is Simon’s worst nightmare and exactly what he asked Wilhelm to do, doesn’t matter if the scenario helps him or not. It means Wille will follow his mom’s requests or Simon’s because that’s who he is. Too good at following orders.

Suddenly, three knocks on his door, and Simon jumps, looking at the door. He exhales a smile, rushing until he’s holding the doorknob, trying to calm himself. He opens the door carefully and Wille is there, hands deep inside his pockets, his shoulders up high, one bodyguard right behind him.

Simon exhales, standing to the side, and Wilhelm gets inside, holding the door for himself, closing and locking it behind him. Simon walks to his nightstand, leaning against it, holding the edge tightly, looking at Wilhelm and nobody else. They’re finally alone, and Wilhelm is bare, like Simon is used to seeing him, no walls around him, the thick walls he builds filled with small, quiet answers, with people around them to keep them from giving in.

His eyes are soft again, filled with expectations, and he adjusts his hair behind his ears like he does when he’s nervous, Simon is surprised he’s not biting his nails too.

“I’m really tired of my terms…” Simon exhales shakingly, “Like...really tired.”

He crashes into Wilhelm before he can think twice, holding his face in his hands, kissing him like he’s been thinking for months, and Wilhelm holds him right back. His hands feel cold even through the thin fabric of Simon’s shirt, squeezing his waist tightly, stumbling back, trying to find the bed.

“No video game today?” Wille asks against his lips, smiling so bright. Simon shakes his head, quick to take Wille’s shirt off, pushing him to sit on the bed.

[qqueenofhades]

Fake dating AU for the idiot Heartrender Husbands! I beg of you!

As ever, I am preposterously easy to enable, and since they will eventually make an appearance in A Phantom in Enchanting Light, I decided to write their backstory for that verse. Also, “fake dating but it’s only fake because they’re both idiots” is an Aesthetic. I love them.

Moscow, 2010

The guy is most definitely late. Fedyor got here early – probably too early, since they’re supposed to meet at eleven and he arrived by quarter past ten – but it’s now 11:08 and still no sign of him. Fedyor has claimed a corner table in the coffee shop just off Red Square with its splendid old tsarist-era décor, surrounded by the murmur of conversation and clicking laptop keys as his fellow Muscovites get on with their daily lives. The rule is fifteen minutes, yes? If Ivan Sakharov doesn’t show up in another seven, Fedyor is free to bail. But it’s been so long, and Nadia, the mutual friend responsible for this set-up, has begged Fedyor to give him a chance. And since it is understandably difficult to date as a gay man in Russia, Fedyor’s patience must be tested longer than usual. He sips his flat white and glances at the door again. Still no Ivan.

Fedyor opens his phone and checks the photo that Nadia sent him, trying to decide if this man is attractive enough to compensate for his tardiness. It’s hard to tell. It is 11:14, and he is absolutely about to pack up and leave by no later than 11:25, when a tall, grim-faced man in a red windbreaker strides in. He stops short, glances around, spots Fedyor, and powers over with such single-minded determination that Fedyor fears he’s about to be arrested. “Hello,” he says curtly. “I am Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov. I believe you are waiting for me?”

“Ah – ? I am Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, yes,” he manages, offering a hand, which Ivan crushes in a Terminator grip. “It’s – nice to meet you?”

Ivan snorts, pulls out the other chair, and drapes his jacket over it, then orders a small plain coffee (black like his soul, evidently). Then he returns, sits down, and claps his hands as if he is calling a misbehaving class to attention. “Where are you from?” he barks. “How long have you lived in Moscow?!”

Fedyor continues to gape. He’s genuinely not sure if this is Ivan attempting to get to know him on speed-run, or if he’s being interrogated by a FSB agent who can’t even act for two seconds like he’s not. It’s ominously possible. Dmitry Medvedev is the president and there are hopes that there might be a social liberalization, but the Orthodox patriarchs and the far right have been increasingly agitating against Russia’s embattled LGBTQ community, and things could just as easily get worse. Is this a setup or a setup? Nadia would never knowingly put him in a dangerous situation, of course, but maybe she was likewise fooled. You’d think that if this was a sting, they could have found a guy who was actually capable of pretending to be on a date, but maybe that’s the point? What the hell is going on here?

Fedyor opens his mouth, then shuts it. As a matter of fact, he is originally from Nizhny Novgorod, but moved to Moscow for university and has lived here for seven years, but if Ivan is with the FSB, he probably already knows that. Is this a trick? Is Ivan trying to match him to some police intelligence file or see if he’s a liar? Fedyor is seriously about to get up and walk out (or maybe sprint out) when Ivan, perhaps realizing that he’s blowing this to a heretofore unprecedented degree, says, “Sorry. I am from Krasnoyarsk. I enjoy rugby.”

Of course he likes rugby if he’s from Krasnoyarsk. This is a disaster. “Uh, what side?”

“Krasny Yar,” says Ivan, in the tone of a man about to stand up and belt out the fight song. “I also enjoy football. Yenisey Krasnoyarsk. Though I have begun supporting Lokomotiv since I came to Moscow. That was five years ago.”

So, he’s definitely a hooligan. Fedyor does his best to keep smiling. In the flesh, Ivan is definitely not unattractive. His hair is crisp and brown, there are glints of hazel in his eyes, and he has that hard, chiseled handsomeness that Fedyor always ends up getting suckered into. Except for the fact that he is lively, extroverted, and outgoing, likes clubbing and mingling and making friends, and this man does not appear to have ever heard of a single one of those things. What was Nadia thinking? It’s not like her to whiff this badly. Or did she have to be so circumspect in asking Ivan if he would like to meet Fedyor that, even if he’s not an undercover cop, he is in fact clueless about the true nature of this social engagement? Thinks it’s guys being pals?

“Did you have somewhere you were coming from earlier?” Fedyor asks, after another excruciating silence. “Is that why you were – ?”

“My apologies. The bus was late. I am normally very punctual.” Ivan scowls ferociously, as if the bus ever dares to do such a thing again, he will personally murder it. “What hobbies do you enjoy, Fedyor Mikhailovich?”

“I think you can call me Fedyor, yes?” They are clearly nowhere near “Fedya” and “Vanya” just yet, but “Fedyor Mikhailovich” always makes Fedyor look around warily for his grumpiest professor at MSU. He tries to think of subtle conversational gambits to find out what Ivan knows, without being obvious. Oh God, he really should just cut his losses, but something – perhaps the pathetic conviction that even a terrible date is better than no date at all – keeps him in his seat. Presuming that he does get out of here alive, he will call up Nadia straightaway and ask her many, many questions, mostly consisting of Why??! “Well,” Fedyor says at last. “I like having fun?”

“I also enjoy fun,” Ivan says, stone-faced. “I am very funny.”

Russian humor is normally extremely deadpan, to the point that Fedyor does wonder if Ivan is in fact a diabolical troll genius, but somehow he doesn’t think so. The rest of the conversation proceeds in this fashion, but by the end of an hour, Fedyor still has no idea if he has just been on a date or a trip to the gulag. Ivan gets up, administers another bone-crushing handshake, thanks him for his time, and marches out. Fedyor can practically hear the Red Army Choir thundering some patriotic anthem in his wake.

When he gets home that afternoon, Fedyor is resolved to write off the whole thing, except it was weirdly kind of not as bad as he first thought, maybe, somehow. If nothing else, he’s fascinated by this, like watching a slow-motion train crash. He takes out his phone with the intention of calling Nadia, only to see a text message from an unfamiliar number. When he opens it, it reads, Hello. Your company was agreeable today. Thank you. Perhaps we could meet again next week. Please reply yes or no. The message uses the formal styles of address, and some of the spellings are slightly old-fashioned. He has also signed it – Иван Сахаров – in case there might be some confusion with another Ivan the Terrible at Dating of Fedyor’s recent acquaintance. It is a bit like getting a text from the undertaker.

Fedyor stares at it, insanely tempted to burst out laughing, and finally, just because now he’s too curious to refuse, texts back his gracious acceptance. Still chuckling, he makes dinner, and then, as his phone pings with Ivan’s response, wonders in horror what on earth he is getting himself into.

This is how things continue for the next six weeks. Ivan and Fedyor meet up for the second time, stroll sedately around one of Moscow’s many city parks together, then part ways, and this time it’s Fedyor’s turn to ask if he would like to do it again. He isn’t sure exactly why, except that Ivan is unexpectedly easy to spend time with, and he nods in stoic approval of whatever Fedyor says. Of course, they follow the usual rules of dating which are especially important in Russia: don’t talk about politics, don’t talk about religion, don’t talk about America, don’t talk about Ukraine, don’t talk about Chechnya. From what Fedyor can glean, Ivan’s views tend to the doctrinaire, but he is surprisingly undogmatic, and willing to at least act as if he has an open mind. If he was an FSB agent, it feels like he would have busted Fedyor by now, but maybe he is waiting for him to do something unmistakably gay. That’s not it. Right?

Nadia calls, wanting to know how it’s going, and Fedyor grills her for forty minutes over whether Ivan is a law enforcement plant, a lonely guy looking for a friend, the world’s most method practical joker, or just extremely stupid. Nadia insists that he is actually very nice once you get to know him (HA, thinks Fedyor) and has no particular affection for either the ruling classes or the oligarchs. He can certainly be an acquired taste, but he is not evil.

Forced to accept it, still chickening out of asking Ivan whether he knows they’re dating, wondering if they are dating, if Ivan knows that Fedyor knows they’re dating, if Fedyor only thinks he knows that they are dating while they are not actually dating, or if Ivan thinks he knows that they’re dating while they’re… whatever the fresh-fried fuck is truly happening here, Fedyor trudges off for what has become his almost-weekly rendezvous with Ivan the-Maybe-Not-Quite-So-Terrible. They manage to have a few conversations verging on meaningful, and Fedyor has found himself telling Ivan about his family and Nizhny Novgorod and other such things. Fedyor likes to talk and Ivan likes to listen, though he breaks in now and again with a bone-dry quip. He’s still never what you would call loquacious, or easily forthcoming, but Fedyor likes that. Ivan is tough, complex, enigmatic, guarded, occasionally willing to let down his walls but only if the other person is worth it, and Fedyor finds, to his surprise, that he wants to be worth it. If this is a long-con mind game, he almost doesn’t care. (Almost.)

The problem, however, is that they’ve been seeing each other regularly for a month and a half and they haven’t gotten any closer than walking through a park, outdoors, in full view of their fellow comrades. Even the first time Fedyor takes the plunge and invites Ivan to his apartment, they sit three feet apart on the couch, watching a badly-Russian-subtitled version of Die Hard and providing critical commentary. Fedyor’s English is a lot more fluent than Ivan’s, and his middle-class family, while not exactly wealthy, is definitely better off than Ivan’s hardscrabble clan of miners and loggers in Siberia. That upbringing certainly does explain, to some degree, why Ivan is the way he is, and Fedyor wonders anxiously if Ivan views him as an insufferably posh city boy. Ivan barely finished high school and went straight to working in a Krasnoyarsk aluminum factory. He definitely did not faff around Moscow State University and attend global development seminars in Paris.

Nonetheless, despite their obvious differences, they do get along, and Fedyor is unable to deny the fact that he would, if it’s all right with everyone, like it to be more than that. Of course, finding out if Ivan knows, etc. etc., has been the paramount challenge, and there is no way to find out other than to go for it. Fedyor is 75% sure that they’ve been going steady for two months, but if it’s actually the other 25%, this is going to get awkward in a hurry. Is this essentially a fake relationship, or is it only fake because they’re both idiots?

After having duly commended his soul to God, Fedyor invites Ivan over on Saturday night. He rents a tiny flat by himself since he’s been burned on rooming with strangers, but Ivan is used to it by now, and it doesn’t feel too small with the two of them. Fedyor strains his limited culinary skills to cook supper, probably making his babushka cluck her tongue and sigh in a judgmental fashion back in Nizhny Novgorod, and they sit down and eat in silence for five minutes. Then Fedyor says, “Vanya?”

The consistent use of the diminutive has started sometime in the last few weeks, neither of them remember quite when. Ivan doesn’t correct him. “Yes?”

Fedyor clears his throat. “Do you…” He winces. “Do you… like me?”

“Yes?” Ivan says again, looking confused. “I would not have spent so much time with you if I did not, don’t you think? We are friends.”

“Yes, I know that we’re friends, but…” Fedyor looks at the ceiling. It doesn’t help, so he looks back at Ivan. “Are we… special friends?”

Ivan continues to look blank. “Are we?”

Fedyor resists the urge to tug at his collar, thinking that it’s a damn good thing that he didn’t go with his other idea of just leaning across the table and passionately kissing him. With absolutely no change of tone or expression, Ivan says, “Please explain. Special friends how?”

“Friends who want to…” Fedyor takes a deep breath. “Be… more than friends?”

“How?” Ivan orders again, ruthlessly. “Be clear, Fedya.”

“Are we maybe… boyfriends?” Fedyor’s voice squeaks on the word. “As in… we have feelings for each other that aren’t just… friendly? Like… feelings which are… romantic?”

Ivan continues to stare at him like a statue for several more seconds, and Fedyor contemplates the feasibility of tunneling directly through the floor of his apartment and running all the way to Latvia. Then at last, Ivan throws his head back and – startling Fedyor deeply – breaks into real, genuine, belly laughter, the kind that he has never heard from Ivan before. “Oh my,” he chortles, slapping the table. “Your face. You were sweating bullets.”

“WAIT, WHAT!?!” Fedyor pushes his chair back and stands up with a clatter, incandescently outraged. “Are you – were you messing with me?!!”

“Maybe a little,” Ivan says, wiping his eyes. “You know, all this time, I have not been sure if you are shy or a terrible prude. Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“God’s Mother in Heaven – ” Fedyor feels another prick of disloyalty to his babushka for swearing on the Bogomater, but some people deserve it. All inhibitions forgotten, he charges at Ivan like a runaway train, as Ivan springs out of his own chair in readiness, and starts pounding on his chest in transports of fury. “You are the worst! You are the worst person ever! For two months, what have we been doing?! I have been afraid this whole time that maybe you don’t know what’s really going on, and now – ?! You are the worst!”

Ivan catches Fedyor’s flailing arms, holds them away from him, and picks him up bodily, swinging him around and pushing him against the wall. “Maybe I am just a dumb country boy from Siberia,” he remarks, “but even I am not that stupid, Fedyor Mikhailovich.”

“I hate you,” Fedyor pants, their faces and their mouths an inch away from each other. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Mmm?” Ivan cocks an eyebrow. Then he plants both hands on either side of Fedyor’s head, leans in, and deeply, savagely captures Fedyor’s mouth with his own.

Every remaining vestige of barely rational thought in Fedyor’s head evaporates in screaming shock. He still wants to shove Ivan away, knee him in the balls, or break a chair over his head, but if he did that, he would have to stop kissing him, and he can’t do that either. He moans, Ivan’s tongue takes the opportunity to slip into his mouth, their hands clutch and claw and their legs melt out from under them, they turn away or break contact only to gulp a breath before diving back in again, and the next time Fedyor is aware of anything, they have collapsed on his kitchen floor in a wrung-out, entangled, gasping heap. Ivan says in his ear, “Do you still want me to leave, Fedya?”

“No,” Fedyor manages. “Because now, I am really going to make you suffer.”

Ivan’s smile is dark and full of promise. He pulls back, gets to his feet, and holds out a hand. “Then I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

(Ivan doesn’t leave Fedyor’s apartment that night. He doesn’t leave it the next night either. At the end of the week, Fedyor calls up Nadia and informs her that he hates her so much, and when they do next see each other, he’ll shake her by both shoulders and then thank her for introducing him to the no-good, truly awful, very bad love of his life.)

[sugar-petals]

BTS Scenario: Taking Care of Them When They Have a Cold

↳ ♡ NOTE ⇁ time for fluff. autumn season is coming, let me set the mood right here, we’re going cozy 🍂

warnings ⚠️ hurt/comfort, brief mention of sexual tension

⌈jimin⌋ ⇢ Jimin’s cold is unusually subtle. In terms of visible signs, it’d take some time to notice it for someone who doesn’t know him or doesn’t check just how heavy another person’s breath is going. But feedback? You will definitely get. Compared to how he’s pouting about it, which will melt your heart is what I’m saying, the symptoms are understated in comparison to the other members. Taehyung’s cough can shatter an entire neighborhood, Jimin sneezing is as graceful as a gazelle. Mind you, his nose is runny, and the slight fatigue of the first two days isn’t negligible, but the major thing to actively mend is more psychological than physical. In other words, his body does its thing, you don’t have to overextend yourself. 

That’s what you have to figure out first to really take care of him properly. After laying him down and bringing both snacks and liquids, talking is what he needs rather than ten thousand types of medications and cool towels all over him. Jimin doesn’t want to see you become sick as well so you don’t sit up close, but at talking range, and you text a lot during the day while you work. He’s worried about not being able to practice and hopes the cold doesn’t show in his appearance. You assure him it takes five days at best and he is okay again and promise a lot of kisses. With that prospect, healing is even sweeter. And, you know the guy, Jimin misses seducing you, so.

⌈taehyung⌋ ⇢ Absolutely enjoys being babied ten times out of ten. Nothing better than you preparing a hot herbal bath. Rosemary, thyme, camomile. The steam spiraling off the water surface looks so relaxing in the candlelight, the classical music you put on sways him into a trance, he lays there for half an hour just motionless. He gets a little tray of coconut cookies on the bed stand, you play the guitar to him, you massage his feet before he sleeps… Which, and he hates admitting it, makes it nice to be sick. By all means not because of the fever, but the extra attentions, the hot chocolate for bed. Taehyung thinks about that twice and concludes something. He doesn’t want to get a cold just to receive this treatment. Not for his own health nor to worry or overwhelm you, he’s not gonna guilt-trip you into being a servant. 

So, you agree for later: It’s good to treat him sporadically just because, whenever and wherever, cue Shakira. That Taehyung so enjoys a good healing and mending time and it just explodes when you both have a reason to, that’s rather something to expand to the whole relationship. Taehyung will do the exact spoiling for you, with a romantic twist the way you know him. It doesn’t need a sickness to resort to doing nice things for your partner. At the end of the day, the body will remember it and get sick again because it sees what it gets through being ill. That’s something to squarely avoid doing, a random gesture is good for its own sake, amen.

⌈yoongi⌋ ⇢ Grumpy, murmuring, disgruntled he can’t work without getting a headache, needs a lot of silence to recover so he curls up on his own with earphones in and fifty playlists on repeat. He’s like tch, only thing I need is tiger balm to whip me back into shape. Or… wait. Wait a second. A cup of steaming hot coffee with extra foam he will not reject. Or a plate of fried rice. Anything fried and super crispy, really. Yoongi likes those things, especially when prepared by you. Nothing is more honoring. Actually? I’ll change the initial statement. Yoongi does accept some help. You simply gotta find out his catnip I mean favorite dishes and either know the place to order it from or have some kitchen basics down. Nothing super fancy though, it doesn’t need a God’s Menu. The right seasoning does the trick already. 

He wants it mega spicy, sweating out the cold is the way to go said Yoongi’s mom back in the day so he goes by that motto. Love starts in the stomach for felines. If another BTS member drops take-out at the door, even better, that uplifts him greatly. When he munches, that’s the most gratifying thing in the world. Yoongi wants you to eat with him by the bed so that means chili in the bedroom but screw it. All that food and you cranking up the heater distracts Yoongi from his cold and some head pats have him on his way to recovery. And, by the way. He’s kinda turned on by you cooking for him so… the frustration is real, you’re gonna fuck like rabbits once he’s okay again.

★ ⌈namjoon⌋ ⇢ The friendly giant will stay in denial about his cough for at least three days and walk around with way too much medicine in his system. He begs for someone to relieve him, mostly himself, but all those sky-high standards are in the way. Responsibility! Hard work and endurance! Solve it in your head! What is the spiritual reason for colds? How many pills keep you awake for an all-nighter to write an album in one go? What’s next on the schedule? So it goes on, you know the deal with Joonie. You have to kick that leader butt so he finally enters the healing cave under the sheets. Don’t kick too hard though, he doesn’t have Jimin-level cushions. He topples over into his sheets fast anyway, he’s that level of exhausted from his own suppression. 

The story goes on, Namjoon feels extremely guilty for getting pampered and still ponders the reasons why he is ill rather than slowing down a minute and closing his laptop for a hot second. It gets a little awkward unless you figure out your secret weapon. What he feels better with is you reading him stories while he rests on the sofa. I’m not kidding. Or if you’re busy or he wants to be alone, audiobooks. That input is like a lullaby to Namjoon who gets knocked out by the soft whispering only to descend into 12 hours of sleep. Ah, he’s namjooning. Yep. His cold will force him into resting, but by the time he recovers, he is six books wiser and has had the pleasure of listening to your voice which he finds soothing. Thankful he is, anticipate an expensive present and flowers.

★ ⌈jungkook⌋ ⇢ Meal and fluid intake: Quantity explosion! Wow, wow, and wow again, the sheer amount that he can snack and turn into what seems even more muscle and more sweetness. Guinness World Record. He knows his system is currently resetting, he wants to hand it the building blocks, he knows the math. Yes, even sick Jungkook is the cutest foodie in the world. Yes, he will eat his veggies. He worries about not being able to work out so you at least help him stretch his legs ever so slightly in bed. He’s missing his boxing gloves like crazy, he wants to see the members in the practice room, he wants his milk. The latter is easy to get for him, and FaceTime comes in handy. 

Namjoon does a little motivational speech, and Jungkook feels better almost instantly. Later on, you have to scold him — well, just a little bit — for getting up in all that enthusiasm to do some of his routine on the second day, but he already knows it’s not good for him to get his heart rate up like that. He patiently snuggles in a cocoon of duvets with only his eyes being visible. Until, finally, his red lil’ nose goes back to normal and his lungs feel a lot lighter. Jungkook really hates being dizzy, so it’s a weight off his hunky shoulders all right. Then, he can join you at the dinner table for a double portion of extra Parmesan Spaghetti, and you settle on the couch to bingewatch romantic animes and any Studio Ghibli movie in history.

★ ⌈jin⌋ ⇢ It simply can’t be helped, he even wants to make this funny. Humor really is a never-ending well, Jin is Spongebob’s long lost cousin if you go by his amount of meme talk. He calls himself Rudolph the Red-Nosed Jindeer, stuffs handkerchiefs into his nostrils, draws smileys on his knees with the cream usually meant for a dry philtrum (he now has very hydrated knees, how about that), does impossible contortions to find the right sleeping or reading position. Honestly, you don’t really have to take much care of him nor worry, Jin will cure himself through laughter. The power of positive emotion. Entertainment is nothing to provide for, he’s a one-man show after all. Jin is the least bored when he’s sick among the group, however! It needs someone else to exchange with, you know. No punchline without an audience. Listening is the best thing. 

Sit, lean back, see what he has to say. The only thing you gotta actively do is stop him from choking on his own spit after a particularly dead-on joke. Maybe it’s introducing some room for serious time that helps Jin enter a different track. I can imagine that. Some talk about memories, talk about sorrows and issues. Jin is a complete man, but he still has plenty of ’em, demons don’t evade handsome people. And those need to be talked through in a silent minute. Jin also enjoys movie nights with a cup of tea in one hand and syrup in the other, that’s the go-to way to unwind. You can finally go all out and pour him his tea, bake for him, serve some self-made popcorn, extra sticky and sweet, oh yum.

★ ⌈hoseok⌋ ⇢ If Jimin and Hobi ever get colds at the same time, this will be the poutiest contest. They’re the most vocal about it in the group. Hoseok, and that will come to surprise you a little, becomes needy. Not at the beginning where he’s confused and emotional about what’s going on with him (someone who works this hard and needs a fully functioning body is thrown out of their lane even by the slightest symptom), but shortly after. You’ll come to understand how sensitive his body is, almost as perceptive as Jungkook’s actually. His body blows up with a strong fever, a hot man heating up even more is just an explosion of physics. 

He needs handkerchiefs, he needs tons of water, he needs music to distract him a little, he needs a heating blanket for his feet once the fever is gone. Granted, every sick person depends on those things, but Hoseok is someone who calls out of the bedroom often because he ran out. He’s not afraid to ask for things unlike Namjoon who would refuse out of overt politeness. You certainly have a lot to do because his cold comes in strong so it’s important you enjoy taking care of him and don’t do it out of obligation. Quality time is what we’re talking about here. It’s not about you doing the things, it’s about the presence. That’s why Hoseok will use his money well and always order proper take-out that’s not just classic fast food, you don’t have to cook or anything.

related: putting bts to sleep after a hard day 

© 2017-2020 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[op-peccatori]

Hopefully, Yours (part 1) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice 

Pairing: Victor/Fem!Reader 

Rating: Mature 

Word Count: 8823

Summary: A fight between co-stars leads to you taking their place, along with the man you’ve been carrying a rather fervid torch for. A happy accident—except it’s a dating show and you have to pretend your feelings aren’t real. | Part 2

Warnings/Tags: language, fluff, oblivious behaviour, dating show, social media, Victor might be a little OOC because I’ve written him differently, some making out in the next part hence the rating, no smut though, my sense of humour

A/n: as always, I’m here to clown around. I tried something a lil new (for me) in this one 👉👈 something I picked up quite recently from works I adored, so I hope you like it! It got longer than I intended so I had to split it into 2 parts ;.; Victor said: keep writing, hoe. 

ALSO!!! Yours by Ella Henderson is. THE Victor/MC song for me. I felt it in my bones when I listened to it again after all these years. brb crying

It’s the incessant buzzing of your phone that lures you out of the warm cocoon of your blanket.

You don’t really want to come out of your haven. Not after the week you’ve had, and because you know what awaits you. But as Anna had told you, there’s no way you can avoid this. They had finished editing the episode on Thursday, and Jason had already texted you last night to let you know it would be ready to be uploaded at 7:00 pm today.

Reaching listlessly for your phone, you squint at the bright screen through bleary eyes; it’s 9:00 pm already, and you’ve managed to sleep most of your Sunday away. It’s been a whole week since you filmed the episode, and while you were able to keep your thoughts at bay through it, it’s finally caught up to you.

After all, this is the episode you’re going to be in.

Pulling your laptop towards you, you open the tab that has the streaming site open. Your heart begins its anxious thump against its cage, a beat all too familiar to you by now. As the video begins playing, the memories of that day rise up to the forefront of your mind, refusing to be outdone by this meticulously edited version.

It started with a plan. A very well-thought-out plan.

“He called me a bitch. How can you still expect me to shoot with this jerk?”

Things were not going according to the very well-thought-out plan.

From your place next to Homer, the camera guy, you watched with mounting apprehension as Hollow resisted the AD’s attempts to placate her. But she did seem calmer, the scalding rage of her glare simmering down as he continued to reason with her.

And then her partner for the episode walked back onto the set.

“She said my songs are predictable! You want me to work with a hater?” Kai protested loudly, and Hollow turned back to him in a fury. The AD looked back at you in dismay, the rest of the staff watching with varying levels of exasperation.

“This is supposed to be a cheesy, ultra-romantic show,” Kiki whispered from her place at your side.

“This is what the reality is. All that sappy crap is for the camera,” Willow snorted, shaking her head in disenchanted disappointment.

There may be more than a kernel of truth in that. Hopefully, Yours was your company’s latest project; the second season, the first one having been produced by a different group. It’s a romantic web-series that featured different couples going on dates around town. The couples featured ranged from non-celebrities to people who are household names. So far, there hadn’t been too many issues with the participants—so you really should have expected this.

“Not always!” you cut in, fiddling nervously with your planner. “Some of the couples have gone on to date for real. Raymond and Liliana got married!” A lovely couple from an episode that aired last year. They’d been in the news recently too.

“They’re getting divorced,” Homer piped up in response. You hoped the look on your face let him know how unhelpful that was and turned back to the clashing couple. The AD looked harrowed and harassed as things turn increasingly hostile.

“Willow, do we have a backup couple?” you asked after a long moment of watching them spit insults. “Or just one person to replace either of them. What about Carlson?”

“He won’t be in town until tomorrow.”

‘Can I leave town?’ You wondered in a fit of desperate, wishful thinking.

“And we’ve got everyone here, with everything set up. Can we really waste time?” Kiki wondered out loud.

“No, we can’t,” answered a strained voice from behind you. All four of you turn to see Anna striding towards you, her hassled expression sending a frisson of worry through your stomach. “___, we’ve got guests.”

“Guests?” you repeated numbly. “What guests?” From the look on her face, it couldn’t be good news.

Anna held your gaze for a second, looking vaguely apologetic, before stepping to the side, allowing you to get a look at who Jason, the director, had rushed off to greet. You felt the ground shift beneath you, throat drying rapidly and the surrounding noise dimming as you focused on the new arrivals—your friend, your boss if you insist on the technicalities, and the star of most of your daydreams. LFG’s very own CEO, Victor, and his loyal secretary, Goldman.

In other words, people you hadn’t expected to see today.

“Why?” you whimpered, mostly panicked, but distantly amused by how enthusiastically he’s being greeted. It gave you a few moments to get it together, a familiar buzz coming to life underneath your skin.

This is terrible. Surely, this is karmic retribution for some misdeed committed by you. 

“Boss, get it together,” Kiki hissed in an echo of your thoughts, and you realized you had half-fallen back into her and Willow’s arms, their hands steady on your shoulders.

“This is really bad timing. Like, really bad,” Willow pointed out unnecessarily as you straightened up, running a quick hand through your hair.

“Goldman said they just dropped in to see how it’s coming along. I don’t really understand why, this is not at all Victor’s cup of tea, but he’d been hesitant about the show, so...” With a sympathetic smile, Anna placed a hand on your elbow, squeezing lightly. The comfort it brought is chased away almost immediately by a furious screech.

“That is it. I’m done!”

Turning just in time to watch Hollow stalk off the set, you tried to restart your thought process. You just needed to solve this.

“How do we solve this?” Kiki asked in a low voice, and Willow shook her head helplessly. 

With no answer for her, you could only watch as Jason led Victor and Goldman towards the set. You knew the exact moment he saw you; there was no smile, but a slow blink. It was still early in the afternoon, and his patrician features were alight with a soft glow in the golden sunlight, the curve of his lip relaxed and his clever gaze taking in you and everything happening around you in seconds. You’re not sure what he saw in your face but it made the corners of his mouth pull downwards.

Your stomach plummeted, seized by a sudden urge to flee.

But with his long strides, he reached you before you could take a step back. Kiki and Willow retreated silently, greeting him like newly registered soldiers coming face to face with their general and leaving you at his mercy. You would have felt miffed, but the way the sunlight softened his features was a little distracting. His lips moved, and you’re certain he said something, but couldn’t quite hear him over the sound of your heart drumming in your ears.

Homer coughed loudly, popping the bubble.

“Good morning, Victor!” Certain your lack of actual delight was obvious, you tried to inject as much enthusiasm into your voice as you could while your project went up in flames behind you. Not that you weren’t happy to see him, as the sudden thrill twisting through insisted on reminding you, but the prospect of disappointing him was one you would rather not face.

There was no visible reaction from Victor, but Homer looked a bit disturbed by the attempt. Goldman just looked like he pitied you, while Jason looked oddly contemplative. This was probably his first time seeing you this…dazzled.

“Good morning,” Victor replied evenly. His eyes, a constant, focused storm and his silken hair falling artfully over his forehead form a picture so lovely, almost beyond words. It’s never stopped you from waxing poetic about them, or his long list of admirable personality traits, but he had a way of knowing when you’re not paying attention. “Looks like I picked a bad time to check in.” 

You couldn’t quite pin down the inflexion in his tone, but your immediate guess was that he was either severely disappointed or was low-key mocking you.

With how quickly things derailed, it’s understandable. 

“Haha,” you laughed—an unfortunate coping mechanism that seems to flare up most often in his presence. Also, because Victor looked unfairly gorgeous, as always and you were a fool with a worryingly erratic pulse. “Just a few bumps. Nothing we can’t fix.”

Behind you, Kai declared his intent to leave as well. There’s a contract, so they would have to look into this, but that would take time. At that moment, Victor was eyeing the singer leaving the set and your nervous smile with his brows steadily climbing higher.

“Right. Anything I can do to help?” he offered, and the shame that elicited is so fierce you felt like you’d shrunk. This was supposed to be a casual visit, for him to see how the filming was going and instead you made him feel the need to step in and clean up the mess.

“No,” you said, firm, immediate, vehement. He frowned down at you. “We’ll come up with something. Why don’t you two take a seat, we’ll get you some drinks and Anna can go over the ratings and numbers with you.”

Victor seemed to hesitate, still frowning at you, but relented when you mustered up a small but convincing smile for him. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything,” he insisted, because he’s nice like that, before following Goldman and Anna into the small room you’ve converted into an office. You have a small but closed set for the first meeting of the couples, before the crew moves to whatever location has been picked out for the date.

“He’s nicer than he looks,” Homer observed as the two of you watched him leave.

“He’s lovely,” you said miserably. Who would have thought there’d be a day when you said that about Victor? He was still an evil capitalist, but he’s a kind man. 

Homer didn’t get the chance to reply as Jason rushed up to you.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have to sit those two down for a talk, but we don’t have time for that today. We need substitutes,” Jason said, not nearly as panicked as you would expect from a director who had no one to direct. It was admirable, this ability to keep his head even when he hits what looks like a dead end.

“I’ll make some calls.” Reaching into your pocket, your mind ram through your options as your hand closed around your phone.

“I want you to do it,” Jason declared. 

It took you a few seconds to realize you hadn’t misheard. He looked back at you steadily, already resolute in his decision. You looked around, expecting protests, but the staff members only looked eager. 

“…I don’t like this joke,” you said, slowly.

“Good thing it wasn’t one!” Jason returned cheerfully. “Before you turn it down, let me say—please? And don’t go off with the ‘I’m nobody!’ thing. People know who you are.”

“Um.” You really, really didn’t know what to say to him.

“My brother thinks you’re hot,” Homer offered, and Jason beamed at him.

“Okay, we’ll do this. You’re the producer of one of the oldest and most popular shows. You’ve gained more media presence over the last two years. You’re also friends with Kiro and Professor Lucien, so people have been quite curious about you for a while! This is just a fun little thing. Please?” Jason pleaded.

In the spirit of fairness, you took a minute to think about it. It would solve half the problem. And today’s location was a local fair, where the couple got to try out anything they want to, with all the expenses covered by the company. The very thought of stepping in front of the camera left your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t deny the bud of excitement that seemed to have taken root.

In the end, your stomach made the choice for you.

“If you think it’ll be fine, then sure,” you acceded, thoughts filled with stir-fried noodles and holding hands with a faceless person. “But what about the other person?”

“Hmm,” Jason looked in the direction of the office, reminding you that you don’t have all day to decide.

“I could call Gavin and ask if he’s free,” you suggested. People adore him. “Or Lucien?”

Jason nodded as if truly considering it, his gaze sharp on you. “Good choices. What about Victor?”

“Yeah, no. That is a bad idea,” you said at once, without giving it a moment’s thought. This was a dating show, where people go on cute dates and act adorable on camera. The very thought of Victor doing that at all, let alone with you…was something you couldn’t think of because it was ridiculous. And bad for your poor heart.

“It is an excellent idea,” Jason disagreed. You hated to be the bearer of bad news, but this was necessary. You’ve known Victor for a while now, and felt responsible for Jason’s well-being that would inevitably be threatened if he embarks on this particular path.

“He’d never agree to it,” you told him solemnly. The man barely agrees to do interviews; a show like this? Out of the question. “You know who he is, right? He doesn’t have time for this.”

“Why don’t you leave that to me, and go get ready. I’ll go get your man,” Jason said, loud and bright, shooing you in the direction of the dressing rooms. You stood there for another minute, dazed and afraid. What if Victor thought it was your idea?

The horror.

The terror.

“I’m still texting Lucien!” you called after him, voice pitched high in your alarm. Before you could follow Jason to make sure Victor knows you would never suggest this, an arm slid around your shoulder.

“Darling,” Arnold, the head stylist, cooed at you. “I heard the good news.”

“How?” It had been two minutes. People shouldn’t be spreading this without the director’s confirmation.

“Forget the hows. This is your time to shine. Come, we’re going to make that CEO drool,” he proclaimed, shepherding you towards the dressing rooms. “And I can finally do something about this hair!”

“He’s not going to agree.” You were absolutely certain of that, even as your mind continued to conjure cutesy images of you sharing cotton candy with the reticent man. 

Taking a seat at the vanity, you reached for your phone over the cotton pads, watching Arnold’s reflection in the large mirror as he flitted about the small room, picking out different outfits. You hadn’t gotten a chance to check it for a while, and scrolled through your texts swiftly, pausing on a few in particular.

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Victor [9:00]: Hello. I’ve got some time off today.

Victor [9:02]: Is it alright if we drop by the set? What time is your lunch break?

Victor [9:20]: You must be busy. I spoke to Anna. I’ll see you later.

Victor [9:25]: Also, good morning.

‎

Oh.

He had actually let you know he’d be dropping in. Taciturn and domineering he may be, but Victor’s quiet consideration often left you glowing with warmth. In comparison, your own clumsiness often left you embarrassed. In this instance, it made you feel doubly determined to do this right.

‎

Y/N [12: 05]: Hi, sorry I missed these. Don’t worry, I’ll get us back on track.

‎

Closing Victor’s chat, you took a moment to consider your options before making your choice.

‎

Y/N [12:07]: Lucien! Are you free?

Lucien [12:15]: Hello. Just wrapped up a lecture. I thought you were going to be shooting today?

Y/N [12:16]: I am. Actually, I had a favour to ask.

‎

You stared down at the screen of your phone, shoulders relaxing as one of the assistants fussed with your hair. Should you wait for Jason before asking him? You knew what the outcome will be, regardless of what you wanted. You’ve always known, always kept your thoughts safe behind a barrier, never letting them spill out in Victor’s presence.

You thought back to his disappointment, and something fragile in your chest tightened.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you prayed to all the powers above that this works out.

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Victor [12:18]: Dummy. I’m not worried.

‎

There was a knock at the door as you opened the chat, thrown off but pleased by Victor’s confidence.

“Guys, can I come in?”

It was Jason.

With trembling fingers curling tight, you sat up straighter as he was let in. Your pulse quickens, your emotions jumbling together until your can’t tell them apart. You kept your expectations low. You knew what the answer would be. It couldn’t hurt if you expected it.

You just hoped it wouldn’t change anything. It wasn’t your idea.

“He agreed!” Jason announced with a flourish, and your heart halted its despondent march. “His secretary’s picking up his outfit, they said it won’t take too long. We’ll do his hair and mak—uh, are you okay?”

You swallowed your heart back down. “He said yes.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stretching out his answer, nodding as Arnold thrust an outfit at him. 

“And he…knows it’s with…me?” you asked carefully.

Jason’s brows climbed a notch higher. “Yes, of course.” His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite read.

“Right, right. That’s great! Fantastic. Wonderful,” you said admittedly weakly, turning your gaze back to your reflection. The colour seemed to have drained from your skin, and you ignored the concerned glance exchanged by Jason and Arnold.

“___, hey,” Jason began gently, coming up to stand behind your chair. “Are you okay with this?”

You studied his worried expression, thoughts turning inward. You shifted aside the panic, the disbelief, the prickling nerves, and shushed the sparks of excitement.

A date with Victor.

It sounded wonderful. But the problem was never about you not wanting it. It was that you’ve wanted it for so long and so badly. Could you really have this?

“It’s okay to say no. It’s just…I don’t think it’ll be as awful as you think,” Jason said. His brow furrowed as the lines of your face smoothed out.

Oh.

“It’s for the camera,” you remembered, and Jason hummed thoughtfully. Regardless of what he may think of you, Victor wouldn’t let it show on the screen. You knew he was aware of what the show entails. So, perhaps, you could have this. It was for work. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay.”

Your breath evened out from its shallow state, and you smiled up at Jason, who still looked concerned.

“It’ll be okay.” Your phone buzzed again, and you gathered yourself once more.

‎

Lucien [12: 23]: What can I do for you?

Victor [12:24]: And I look forward to working with you.

‎

It wouldn’t be real.

Telling yourself it wouldn’t be real was easy.

Sitting next to Victor, your high stools positioned close together as you tried to keep your thoughts away from dangerous paths, was not easy. But the light notes of his scent, sandalwood and myrrh if your nose hadn’t led you astray, threatened to lull you into a state of near-intoxication.

Jason had wanted to film the ‘first meeting’ and, for the sake of authenticity, decided to have Victor wait in front of the camera while you got to be the one to walk in. Which meant it was straight from the dressing room to the set. While you were thankful you wouldn’t be filmed drooling on camera, it still meant you wouldn’t get a chance to talk to him until after, or in between takes.

You were a lot more grateful for the arrangement when you did walk to the set, because the sight of Victor—clad in a slim-fit black shirt, paired with a dark grey jacket and black pants that stretched deliciously over his muscled thighs—stopped you dead in your tracks, your thoughts wiped blissfully clean.

The look on his face, bright under the studio lights, had been unreadable, but it didn’t look like his usual unimpressed poker face, so you decided to take it as not quite a win, but not a loss either. Then the small upturn of the corners of his lips, however, threatened to overload your system, prompting you to avert your gaze slightly as you walked to him, for fear of losing yourself.

Your hi had been shyer than intended, but his hello had been the gentlest you had ever heard it.

And then he handed you a bouquet of red, fragrant roses and you felt yourself grow weak.

It was a short take, where you both introduced yourselves, and discussed where you’d be going for the date.

“Do you like fairs?” he’d asked, gaze intent as if your answer was of the utmost importance.

“I love them,” you’d answered, meaning it completely, and he’d looked glad.

Even through the wild beating of your heart, you had managed to feel impressed. He was doing wonderfully already. Who knew Victor had these acting skills? Hopefully, he thought the same of you. You weren’t acting, though, and this, you were quickly realizing, could be a wonderful way to lift the lid off the pot just a little, and let your real feelings shine through.

You would be filming the individual, interview type scenes last, after the date.

With the first meeting done, with Jason going over the take to make sure he had everything he needed, you would be moving to the location soon. But first-

You looked around quickly, covering your mic and making sure nobody was paying too much attention to you, before turning to Victor—only to nearly jump in fright when you met his eyes. How he’d known you wanted to talk, you’d never know. His own eyes had widened when you’d turned around all of a sudden, the tips of his ears reddening slightly. He had probably been startled by your reaction.

“Hi,” you whispered, grinning up at him, and his lips twitched as he covered his mic.

“You’re doing well,” Victor told you, giving you a firm nod, and you couldn’t quite keep from beaming at him.

“Thanks, you too. I never knew you were hiding such a skilled actor in there!” You really meant it, but your words gave him pause, mouth opening and closing as he considered his response. Strange, as modesty was something he didn’t often bother with. Not to say he’s arrogant, just that he knew his strengths.

“…thank you,” he finally said. “You too. I didn’t know you could…act.”

Because you weren’t acting. The blushing, the shy giggling, the warmth buzzing through you, they were painfully real.

You shrugged, smiling slightly, and he looked away.

“Just…thank you, Victor,” you murmured. “I know this isn’t really your thing. But I promise I’ll do my best to make it enjoyable.”

The light, airy sound that escaped his mouth could almost be a laugh. He did shoot you a small smirk, facing you once more. “Well, you’re not wrong. But it can’t be too bad. I’ve heard they’ve got good street food.”

“Good street food,” you repeated blankly. Wasn’t he taking this acting thing too far? This was bordering on alarming, coming from the man who used to look down on you for eating instant noodles.

“Yes.” He looks at you as if daring you to argue, and, well, who are you to argue with an actor’s method? 

His smile faded slightly as yours widened, eyes fixating on yours, your voice pitching higher in your excitement. “I know, yeah, great food. Literally the only reason I agreed to do this!”

Victor’s face shutters at that, his lips pressing tightly together. “Hm.” He turned back to face the camera, leaving you confused, before realisation dawned.

“Hey, don’t worry! I won’t be too much of a glutton, we’ll be on camera, after all,” you told him, as reassuringly as possible because you and good food were a dangerous combo.

He arched a sharp brow at you. “We’ll see about that. I may spend most of my time in kitchen, but Mr Mills has much to tell me about some of your reactions.”

It was only through the sheer power of your offence that you were able to scowl at him even with the heat flaring up in your cheeks. “Well, there’s no way the food there will be as good as the one in Souvenir, so we have nothing to worry about.”

You resisted the urge to cross your arms, keeping your hands neatly folded in your lap as you turned away from him. But when he said nothing for a whole minute, you couldn’t resist the urge to sneak a peek, only to be left with your jaw slack.

Victor was still facing forward, but the corners of his mouth seemed to be curling up despite the effort he was clearly putting into keeping them neutral, his tiny smile still managing to spill through the seams. It enraptured you, a willing captive to the sight of him so pleased, and you wondered if you could make it through this with your heart intact.

But then, you told yourself through your daze, any chef would be happy to receive such praise for their food.

[video]

hopefully, yours, episode 3, part 1: Introductions (Victor and Y/n)

450,569 views  •  Feb 8th, 2020

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JTV ✓

1.19M subscribers 

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51,509 comments

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Jason P ✓ 

pinned comment

This is a special one guys ♡

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needwater 45 minutes ego

AM I HALLUCINATING OR IS VICTOR LI ACTUALLY ON A DATING SHOW?

            view 50 replies

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somsom 23 minutes ago

omg it’s y/n! We rarely get to see her on TV. She’s so cute!!!!

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orangeismycolour 16 minutes ago

!!!! Victor and Y/n!!! Omg ever since I saw them attend the Loveland gala together last year, I knew there was something there!! 

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tooktiktook 8 minutes ago

um. isn’t this kind of an odd combo?

    cheribb 5 minutes ago

    @tooktiktok I thought so too but they look pretty cute together. I mean…he totally blushed when he saw her! And his eyes went so soft!

      tooktiktok 4 minutes ago

      @cheribb Well, she seems sweet but I think he was just being nice.

By the time you were shuffled into a van and driven to the site of the fair, your nerves had mostly settled.

Of course, that may have had something to do with the pudding cup Victor had handed you once you were in your seats. Goldman had brought over a paper bag, with Victor plucking two cups from it like a magician with a hat. With that said, while it’s a trick you’ve seen many a time, it never fails to bring a sparkle to your eye.

With Arnold’s permission, you were more than happy to dig right in. Your makeup would have to be retouched once you got there even if you didn’t eat.

It was easy to relax in the steady familiarity of Victor’s presence. A dangerous notion, your unwavering faith in Victor, that dictated everything would be okay if he was there because he would either make it so, or you, with confidence half-drawn from him, would make sure of it yourself.

It was only once you were halfway through the treat, humming and wiggling in your joy, that you realized Victor hadn’t started on his. Rather, his eyes were fixed firmly on you, intent in observing your devouring of the pudding.

The next bite went down a little heavier as you turned to him.

“Is something wrong?” Your enthusiasm surely couldn’t have come as a surprise.

He hesitated, seemingly on the verge of saying something, before clearing his throat and looking out he the window at the slow-moving traffic.

“No. Just…eat slowly,” he muttered, refusing to look at you. You squint at him, at the pink creeping up the back of his neck, sucking on the spoon thoughtfully. “There’s no need to rush.”

“Sorry. I got a little too excited.” Your laugh is a little hollow, and you muffle it with another mouthful of the soft, sweet dessert, missing his quick glance back at you.

He sighed, sudden and a little ragged.

“No, I meant that you should take your time and savour it,” he told you, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “I can make it for you anytime, so there will be many more chances in the future.”

The next spoonful remained frozen by your mouth as you struggled to process his words. Warm fingers came to rest against the back of your hand, guiding it, and the spoon, to your lips. Your skin tingled, but what was more damning was the way he held your gaze as your lips parted, the metal spoon warm against your tongue as you tasted the sweet delicacy.

It felt all the more sweeter, however, because of the little smile dancing across Victor’s lips.

You were rescued from attempting to respond to that by the van slowing to a stop, with Jason and Homer climbing in before they got moving again. Homer would be the one following you around the fair, as they only needed to get a few takes of you indulging in various activities.

“We absolutely need one with the ferris wheel, of course. A little cliched, but still damn cute. Maybe we can fix a camera in the cabin…” Jason trailed off, turning to Homer for his input. “If you think it’ll be better without you there.”

‘How would it be better without Homer there?’ you wanted to protest. ‘I’ll screw it up if left to my own devices! Professional environment aside, that’s a little too romantic!’

Something prickled at the back of your neck, and you realized Victor seemed to be trying to get your attention, albeit in a very silent way you probably wouldn’t have caught on to if you hadn’t spent so much time studying him.

He said nothing even when you met his gaze, but a reassuring warmth calmed you all the same. I’ll be there, he seemed to say. Trust me.

You were worried about the romantic atmosphere getting to your head, but surely Victor, the ultimate voice of reason, wouldn’t let you get carried away?

“Okay, we won’t crowd you guys too much, but remember to avoid turning away from the camera!”

That had been the last thing Jason said to you both before he retreated to his place behind Homer, who was ready with the camera propped over his shoulder. Your mics were affixed to your clothes, and people were already beginning to shoot curious looks your way. It wasn’t an uncommon sight; many vloggers and people working for food channels could often be found in places like these, flitting about with their cameras out as they partook in the activities available.

While being around cameras was nothing new, it was a little strange to be on the other side of them. Nervousness weighing on your chest, you reminded yourself over and over: be natural, don’t act like a lovesick fool, don’t stare at Victor for too long. Turning to the man himself as Homer adjusted the camera settings, hoping to draw inspiration from his steadfast composure, you could only stare in confusion at the intent way in which he was staring at the entrance to the fair.

Following the trajectory of his gaze, you squinted, hoping to see what had caught his attention. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, with people milling about, the welcoming sign high above their heads bright and welcoming.

“Victor?”

“Hm?”

“Is everything okay?” you asked hesitantly, and he nodded, almost distracted.

“Are we ready?” he asked Homer, who gave him a thumbs up.

Jason grinned at you, winking in what he seemed to think was a discreet manner. “Have fun, you two.”

You couldn’t quite pretend there were no cameras, not with Homer keeping up with you as you began to walk through the entrance arch. Looking at Victor was easier, just to block out the awareness of your companions, of course.

Catching your nervous glances, he inclined his head towards you and made an abortive movement, hand rising and falling midway. His jaw clenched, and then he offered you his arm, elbow bent. 

As your hand curled around his arm, you focused on your vibrant surroundings. A task made more difficult when, after a short pause, you felt him tuck his elbow into his side, the broad span of his shoulders relaxing when you tightened your grip.

“I’ve been meaning to come here for years, but never really got the chance to,” you told Victor, your voice still edged with nervousness. But Victor nodded at you again, the usual stern line of his mouth quirking up, and your mind stuttered, committing itself to memorizing the precious curve of his mouth.

“In that case I’m glad we got to come here together,” he told you, and it took a good deal of effort not to gape at him. “It’s a first for both of us.”

You nodded, stunned by this unforeseen acting prowess. Seemed like you’ve discovered another one of his many talents.

“Hopefully, it’s the first of many,” he added, a smug lilt to his voice, and this time, you did gape.

“Y-yeah,” you answered, face heating up as you turned away for the sake of your dignity. “Hopefully.”

bandanaman @headaccs

are we all seeing this?? he’s such a gentleman!! I was not expecting this man to be smooth. #HopefullyYours

mintmadness @mintsallover

@headaccs HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? He doesn’t even need words, one look and I would be on my knees. #HopefullyYours #VictorLi

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover calm yo thirsty ass down lmao

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raspberrydream @berryberry

“the first of many” omg what does he mean????  #HopefullyYours

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freshasnow @crystalmoon

Yeah, I’m not really feeling this. I thought we were going to get Kai and Hollow this week? #HopefullyYours

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teatime ✓ @spillit

For those of you asking, yes, we knew Victor Li and Y/n were going to be on Hopefully, Yours. Don’t worry darlings, we’ll have some quality tea for you soon!  #HopefullyYours

Spotting the first of the food vendors, you both headed over to it, peering at the fresh dumplings. The vendor straightened up at the sight of the camera, a benign smile spreading across his face when you asked him for permission to film, nodding and plating plump, steaming dumplings with the utmost grace.

Gordon, as he introduced himself, was more than happy to talk about his family business, their two restaurants in Loveland, while Homer took close-ups of the dumpling that Victor broke apart for a better look.

“My daughter comes here every year with me, insisting she can handle things by herself, but honestly, I just enjoy coming here,” he chortled, before fixing the two of you with a knowing look. “It’s a completely different atmosphere from the restaurant! And it’s always nice to see sweet young couples such as yourselves. Reminds me of my own fair dates with my wife…”

You couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Victor, who seemed content to chew on his snack. He caught your eyes, before his flickered over your head towards Homer and Jason. Inexplicably, his ears began to tint a deep crimson, as he swallowed with some effort and stepped closer to you.

It began to make sense when he lifted the other half of the dumpling to your lips, Gordon gasping an oh my! in the background, and even as your heart began to race, your eyes widening, you felt…bad. Jason had obviously asked him to do this, and you felt terrible about him having to embarrass himself like this. But he did it, and so you took a small bite of the dumpling, the juicy filling suddenly tasteless on your tongue.

And then there was a soft sensation on your chin, your eyes lifting to see Victor dabbing at your skin with a napkin, the little motion taking all his concentration until he stepped back with a satisfied glint in his eyes, which seemed to linger around your mouth.

When you were unable to do anything more than flush deeply and try to stammer out a thank you, Jason ended the shot.

The glint in Victor’s eyes didn’t fade, and something within you quivered.

raspberrydream @berryberry

he looks like he wants to eat HER  #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry I CAN’T BREATHE. I thought he was going to kiss her LOL. And she looked so nervous and then he just wiped her chin THIS IS TOO SOFT I CANT #HopefullyYours 

mintmadness @mintsallover

god I wish that were me #HopefullyYours

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only4food @bananabread

Okay I HAVE TO go to this place. I NEED TO EAT EVERYTHING. Who’s in??

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midnightmachine @musiclover

Gordon knows what’s up. We stan a hard-working man. #HopefullyYours

Things continued in much the same direction. With no signs of reluctance, Victor rolled up his sleeves and dived into the bustle of the fair. And with his hand curled around your wrist, you couldn’t bring yourself to doubt him. You’ve learned to read the signs of his displeasure, subtle and obvious, and they were nowhere to be found. He looked relaxed, trying out mini doughnuts, accompanying you to any shops you want to browse, frowning when you looked longingly at the ring toss.

“Let’s go,” he said, guiding you over to the booth. Well, you were supposed to try out the games too, but you hadn’t thought Victor would agree to play them. It seemed a little too childish for him.

“I haven’t come here in years either,” he told you when you looked at him curiously, the two of you standing in line with Homer right next to you. “I love my job, but I admit it takes up most of my time. I rarely have time to indulge like this.” He paused, as if wanting to say more, but his eyes flicked towards Homer and he ended it there.

While a part of you was startled in by his words, another softened at his truthful admission.

Victor seemed to have thought of something else, giving you a meaningful look. “But, of course, I always make time for the people in my life.”

You blinked, a little taken aback by sudden turn in direction.

“Even if they want to come to places like these, I don’t mind.” Victor seemed to be hinting heavily at something, and you smiled at that, almost excessively fond. Because it’s true that Victor makes time for the people in his life, especially his family. And even for you—he’s there for you, no matter how small the matter might be; huffing and puffing and going out of his way to help you. 

Falling for someone like that, someone who effuses such stoic confidence and noble compassion in equal measure, it was all too easy.

“Then we’ll make sure to come again,” you told him, a wide grin blooming across your face at the thought. It was unlikely that it would actually happen, but it was nice to think about. You stepped up to the cashier, greeting him politely.

You finally got your turns after fifteen minutes, with Homer and Jason taking a quick snack break while you waited. You’d run a quick eye over the prizes available, quickly drawn to two pusheen cat plushies, a soft grey and a dark ebony. You didn’t think he’d judge you on camera, but would it really be okay to admit that’s what you want? The hair pin would be a more sophisticated pick, something more to his tastes. 

Silently despairing over your proclivity for soft cute things, you turned to Victor for his choice.

Only to realize he seemed to have taken his jacket off while you were preoccupied and handed it over to Jason, his thin black t-shirt fitting him like a glove—and your words died a swift death at the back of your throat, shrivelling in the sudden dryness of your mouth. Silhouetted against the light of the late afternoon sun, his features seemed sharper, his gaze keener as he twirled the ring in his hands carefully.

As Homer began to roll the camera, and Victor prepared to toss the ring, you panicked with the realization that he didn’t ask you which prize you wanted like Jason had asked him to.

The ring landed around a bottle with a loud clink, and you hoped the surprise you felt wasn’t clear in your loud cheer. With the look he gave you, you knew he caught it even if others wouldn’t.

And then he handed you the dark pusheen plushy, which you took with trembling fingers and a sheepish smile. “Oh, thank you.” It was exquisitely soft to the touch. “This is the one I wanted.”

“Hm.”

“It looks like you.”

“What-” His head snapped toward you as you laughed, clutching the toy to your chest. Whatever outraged retort he’d been about to spit out was held back as he saw you hugging it contentedly, your eyes twinkling at him. “…I suppose.”

You handed him the toy, rolling your shoulders as you were given the ring. “Which one do you want?”

“I’m fine with anything,” he said, eyes locked on the grey pusheen plushy, the other half of the pair. So it was with a laugh, helpless in the face of his clear yet unspoken demand, that you tossed the ring. You got it on the second try, handing the toy to Victor with a triumphant grin, who took it primly and tucked it into his side.

“Thank you.”

“Isn’t this too childish by your standards?” you teased, unable to help it, but he only smirked down at you, stealing your breath with devastating ease.

“It is. But childish is…nice, sometimes,” he admitted carefully.

Your mind helpfully supplied you with all the instances of him calling you childish. “Oh?”

He shrugged, elegant, one shoulder lifting as he looked back down at the toy, before looking back up at you through dark, half-lidded eyes. “It’s grown on me.”

Kiro ✓ @kiromusic

Wow! This seems like so much fun, I kinda wish I got to go there too! :D @miracley/n invite me next time!!  #HopefullyYours 

Savin @agents

@kiromusic You just want to eat junk. And...well, I guess we can make an exception for today. 

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

Before I proceed to scream over the clip, I just wanted to let y’all know I did some digging and apparently, they are friends! They’ve been spotted together in public many times, including the Loveland Gala last year. You know what this means. #HopefullyYours

bandanaman @headaccs

THE PUSHEEN TOYS. They won each other toys!! Y/n’s right, that does look like him with the dark fur lmao. BUT. Look at Victor’s heart eyes!! And she looked so happy omg T_T

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs NO WONDER. It seems like they already like each other but it seemed too soon!! They’re so cute omg please date!! #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry With how they look at each other? I smell pining ;) I’ve compiled a list of all their public appearances. He even took her to Souvenir! How are they not dating????

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs DM ME!!!!

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs I feel like that’s a bit of a reach. They certainly seem comfortable with each other, but that could easily just be friendship, which is nice too. I feel like we should allow people to be friends instead of just shipping them.

‎

mintmadness @mintsallover

@hotsauce they’re on a dating show, though.

‎

srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover yeah but plenty of other ‘couples’ were just friends or went on to be good friends. I just think these two are comfortable with each other, which is probably a good thing because Victor doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who can have fun with just anyone, you know?

You ended up having a lot more fun than you thought you would. Victor was always great company, but you could tell he’d tried his best to relax for the show and you didn’t know how to thank him for it. The warm gratitude bubbled up at the base of your throat, your heart sinking deeper into the ocean of affection you already held for him.

He’s so kind. His aloof demeanour, his nagging, his precise instructions and advice were things you’ve come to appreciate. But beyond those lies a heart so caring, so considerate, it made you yearn so deeply, to find yourself a place in it. But Victor had come to treat you as a friend and you could never ruin that because of your own feelings. It was precious, his friendship, and you wanted to treat it as such.

The line you’d drawn with so much care seemed to be straining, however, ever since you found out you would be riding the ferris wheel together, without Homer.

“The people in charge told us if we could just wait until closing time, they could keep things going until we’re done shooting!” Jason had told you as he briefed everyone. A bunch of the crew had left after packing up, as this would be the last take for the day. “That way Homer can fix the lighting and equipment in the cabin and won’t need to join you two! Give you some privacy, yeah?”

‘For what,’ you’d screamed internally, nodding along with a smile on the outside.

 Looking to Victor for his opinion had been futile, because he seemed to have withdrawn into his own head, looking up at the ferris wheel absently. You were supposed to shoot the individual parts, but with how late it had gotten, Jason had asked the two of you to drop by the studio the next day. Only, you had a free slot in the morning while Victor would only be able to make it sometime during the late afternoon.

So you wouldn’t get to see what Victor said about you. That was perfectly fine. Things had gone well, and Victor wasn’t the sort to badmouth someone anyway.

It was supposed to be his day off. And he gave it up to participate in a show that was, for all intents and purposes, pointless for him. You felt terrible, heart aching at the thought that once again you had made him waste his time.

How on earth did Jason even get him to agree to this?

“You’re thinking something ridiculous,” came a low voice, and Victor seemed to have come back from his mental journey.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, the guilt getting to you.

“For what?” He seemed genuinely baffled, and it made you feel worse.

“For this entire day. You just came for a visit and now it’s after 8 pm and your day off is gone and you rarely get free time…” your shameful rambling tapered off as the furrow between his brows appeared to grow deeper and deeper.

His response was interrupted by a staff member, who came to let you know the ride was ready for you two. Walking together in complete silence, you wondered what he was about to say.

“Do you regret it?”

You arrived at the ride, and Victor had stopped in front of the open door. “What?”

“Do you regret it?” he repeated patiently, holding his hand out to you. “This entire day. Our date.”

Our date.

It was silly, how him calling it a date, with no cameras in sight, seemed to affect you so deeply. It was ridiculous but it was so real, how your heart fluttered and hope unfurled in the garden where you’ve buried your affection.

“Because I’m not sorry,” he added when you failed to do anything other than flush horribly. There was a question in his gaze, one you didn’t know how to answer, so with a deep breath, you focused on the one he’d asked out loud.

“No,” you said softly, your hand coming to rest over his as he helped you into the cabin. “I don’t regret it.”

How could you, when he was everything you wanted?

You settled on the plastic bench, watching Homer fiddle with the settings and light, making sure the camera’s fixed in place, basking in the heat emanating from Victor.

“Alright, that should work. You guys ready?” he asked.

“Yeah!”

“Yes.”

Homer stepped back to let Jason poke his head through the door. “We’re all set guys. Just call us if there are any problems. Be yourselves, don’t worry about the take. And remember, make sure to make it as romantic as possible!”

As the door closed behind him, with the camera rolling, silence rose to take the place of the sounds now cut off, the rest of the world falling away as the ride began and you began to ascend.

Outside the window, the stars shone in a twinkling blanket across the night sky, and Victor’s arm pressed into yours. Meeting his eyes was difficult, astoundingly so after the entire day you spent together.

This close, it would be so easy to let the words tumble from your lips. You didn’t know what your eyes could give away right now, and you were just as afraid of the softness in his gaze.

It looked too real.

“I’m glad we finally got some peace,” he muttered, and just like that a bright laugh broke out through your fear.

“This was not your kind of place at all, was it?” you said, snickering at the look he threw your way, because it’s so easy to make him huff like that.

“It was…lively,” he said, glaring at you as you stifle your smile behind your hand. “Exactly the kind of place you enjoy.”

“That’s true.”

“Then that’s that.” He shifted a little, trying to face you, his knee knocking into yours. “As long as you had fun, we’ll come again.”

Despite your warnings, your heart skipped a beat.

You tried to laugh it off, changing the subject to your childhoods, swapping lighter stories and carefully avoiding the heartbreaks. Your hands moved somewhere in between, in the dim lights, and your fingers had found each other’s. Make it romantic, Jason had said. That was the only reason. You talked about work, about Miracle Finder, about his public projects, how your busy lives don’t give you the chance to find love.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Victor cut in, still looking at you in that quietly dangerous away, his gaze a heated cloak over your skin.

You stilled. “You wouldn’t?” There was a tremor in your voice, one you hoped went unnoticed.

“I think, regardless of how busy we are, however reluctant…love finds us when it has to,” he said, his voice deep, unwavering, and you forgot how to breathe. Somehow, despite doing your best to avoid it, you had wound up on the proverbial cliff’s edge.  

And it was time to take a leap.

“Victor...have you ever been in love?” you asked, part of you ready for his outrage, for him to brush it off with a roll of his eyes, and the other curling up in fear at the thought of the answer he might really give you.

He hummed, tightening his grip on your hand when you tried to tug it back, searching your face. His thumb swept over your knuckles, rubbing gently, and you wondered if he was preparing you for heartbreak.

“Yes. I have.”

Kiki @kikiki

@smilingwillow WHAT THE FUCK

‎

Anna @miracletv

@kikiki Language.

‎

Kiki @kikiki

‎@miracletv did you see the episode?? im going to collapse WHERE IS BOSS @miracley/n

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

DID HE JUST???? OH MY GOD @headaccs DID YOU SEE THIS? ARE YOU OKAY? #HopefullyYours

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

THIS MAD LAD ACTUALLY DID IT. @berryberry I will never recover from this #HopefullyYours

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs @berryberry He just said he’s been in love before. He didn’t say he’s in love with her lol

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@hotsauce what will it take for you to finally see the light

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mintmadness @mintsallover

I could listen to this man talk all day. Y/n, you’re one lucky girl <3 #HopefullyYours

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cocoloco @chocolatedelite

I’m late to the party but lmao at everyone freaking out. Uhhh honestly I’m not sure. These things are usually scripted. They could just be faking it. #HopefullyYours

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@chocolatedelite Thank you!!!!

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victorshoe @mrsli

My heart is broken but their cuteness has mended it. I’ll give them my blessings. #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

oh thank god they just uploaded the individual bits!!! THANK YOU @jtv

‎

bandanaman @headaccs 

...wait 

‎

raspberrydream @berryberry

‎‎omfg

‎

bandanaman @headaccs

????? IS THAT IT??? COME BACK @jtv that can't be it!! 

Thank you for reading! 

MC/You: it’s a fake date. chill. 

Victor: Goldman I need NINE roses and an outfit that makes me look like a sex god I HAVE A DATE

[thembo-for-anime]

Hot Drinks and Cold Hands

request: hello bug!! can i request a one shot of tsukishima with a s/o whos parents are getting a divorce? this is happening to me irl rn :|. his s/o is making jokes about it (“lol do you think i can guilt trip them into buying me a pc???”) and they don’t really seem to care abt it too much. in reality his s/o has just had to put up with their parents fighting all the time and are just angry bc they’ve always had to comfort their siblings. maybe one day their s/o shows up to school with eyebags nd they confide in him abt how they had to stay up all night comforting their parents and siblings?? nd it kinda takes him back bc they seem so tired compared to how they usually are (laidback nd humorous). and like s/o just kinda admits they feel terrible?? angry at their parents for bringing them into their fights but sad bc they’re siblings have to go through it too?? sorry this is so long dhjdjdjdj. feel free to shorten it or just ignore this req since it deals w somewhat heavy topics!!! thanks :]!!!

bug says things: hi!! i’m so sorry that it took me DECADES to finish this but I hope that this is what you wanted!!

also warnings!! the obvious: divorce, parents fighting, dealing with anger, crying, cursing and if there’s anything else i need to tag lmk!

word count: 3.5k oops 👀👀

KEI TSUKISHIMA

You could hear fighting from downstairs for what felt like the hundredth time today. They’re already getting a divorce, did they really have to fight like this? Especially since not only you were home but so were your siblings. Not to mention, you had just put your youngest sibling to sleep but their yelling woke them up. 

“Are they fighting again?” they ask, looking up at you. Nodding your head you see their eyes tear up and their eyebrows furrow. "I don't like it when they fight." 

The way that their young face looked so grown with worry made you angry. Angry that your parents had no regard for you guys as they had their daily screaming match. Angry that they couldn’t even for a minute let the house settle and have some quiet. Angry that right now you weren’t able to just be a kid and they might not either.

“Me either, they’re just...they’re just not happy right now,” you say as you push their hair away from their face.

“Are they not happy ‘cause I did something wrong?” they ask, their small hands squeezing the blanket.

“No! No, no, no you didn’t do anything wrong,” you exclaim. “Here, scooch over.”

They do and you lay down with them. They rest their head on your arm and you wipe away tears with the end of your sweater. Some snot gets on your jacket from their nose and you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

“Eeeww, that’s nASty,” you say jokingly, causing them to laugh a little. “Why do you have so many boogers in your nose?”

“Well when a mommy booger and a daddy booger love each other very much-”

“You are not giving me the talk right now with boogers, absolutely not,” you protest as they giggle again. You smile softly at this small victory before your phone lights up and you see a text from Kei.

Dino Boy: hey u up?

Dino Boy: actually nvm i know u are

Dino Boy: i might be a good bf tomorrow and pick u up some coffee so what do u want?

“Is that Tsukki?” your sibling asks peering over you at your phone.

“Yeah, you wanna reply to him?” you ask as they nod their head vigorously. For some reason--you couldn’t figure out why--all your siblings absolutely adored him. 

You hand over your phone and move to sit up. “I’m gonna check up on sissy next door okay? Text him that I just want a little pastry or something.” 

But they make a noise of protest. “I don’t want you to go yet,” they pout and grab onto the bottom of your sweater. An idea comes to mind as they reach out their arms. “Carry me!”

“What? You’re way too big!” you say as they do grabby hands, letting you know that they weren’t taking no as an answer. You roll your eyes as you turn your back to them. “You’re lucky that I have strong leg muscles,” you answer as they climb on your back and begin typing away on your phone.

“More like noodle legs,” they whisper to themself, but you heard them and pretended to almost drop them in response. “Hey! Not funny!”

“Eh, it was funny to me,” you say as you approach the door as the yelling gets louder. A frown lands on your lips. “Plug your ears okay?”

Your sibling nods as they put your phone in their pocket and cover their ears. You open the door and peek outside. The yelling immediately assaults your eardrums and you tiptoe silently to the room over, which housed your other sibling. 

“Are you really going to deny them Christmas with their own mother?”

“You’re acting like you’ve been such a saint to them, I exist too you know! They have two parents, not just one!”

Knocking lightly on the door with two quick knocks, one slow and two more quick, it opens slightly and you see your younger sister's concerned face before she lets you in.

“What do you want?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What does it look like? Impromptu sleepover,” you say plopping your shared sibling on her bed. She just rolls her eyes and sits in her chair pulling her legs up to her chest.

“I’m talking to Tsukki!” your sibling says showing off your phone. This seems to pique her interest so she moves to the bed and watches as your youngest sibling sends gifs and messages to your boyfriend. Bless him for indulging them. They can be...a lot sometimes but you’re glad he’s been a good sport about it.

“Why is your boyfriend such a dry texter?” she asks looking at you with an amused face.

“Pfft he’s not dry, he just...he’s just socially awkward okay?” you protest as she fights back a smile.

“Okay, sure, whatever you say.”

____________________________

This is how the rest of the night goes. Trying to keep your siblings mind off of your parents screaming voices and letting them bother Tsukishima until they both doze off. You let them both have the bed while you steal a blanket and pillow from your room before coming back to sleep on the floor. 

Which in retrospect wasn’t the best idea because waking up with a sore body wasn’t how you wanted to start your morning. You check on your siblings to see them both fast asleep, so you Mission Impossible yourself back into your room--with your phone--as quietly as possible.

You get ready for the day, knowing that at least you could get some peace and quiet in the morning. Both of your parents start work in the morning so they always leave early, but you wouldn’t be surprised if they had started leaving even earlier to just be away from each other. 

It’s just- It’s so frustrating that they get to fuck off and leave you as a stand in parent. You’re basically still a kid and were you meant to just raise theirs while they got to get angry and leave in a huff? You didn’t make the decision to have kids so they shouldn’t be your responsibility...but you knew if you didn’t take care of them then no one would.

“Ugh!” you grunt as you kick a shirt that was on your floor. 

Whatever, whatever, it’s fine. You try to calm down a bit when your phone starts buzzing. Seeing that it’s Kei you take one last deep breath before you answer. “Hello?”

“Hey open your front door,” he says as you roll your eyes playfully.

“Well good morning to you too, how am I doing? Oh I’m great, you’re so sweet for asking,” you say and you can hear him huff into the speaker.

“Okay, okay good morning now please let me in...baby it’s cold outside,” he says and you can practically hear his lips curling through the phone. 

Damn him for being cute to get what he wants. “Fine but only in the good spirit of the holidays.”

You make your way to the front door and open it to see your tall tree of a man in all of his pink cheeked glory. You smile as you let him inside. “Aw is that blush for me?” you ask teasingly.

“Hardly, in case you haven’t noticed it’s freezing out there,” he says before leaning down to give you a quick kiss. When you pull away that’s when you notice the amount of drinks in his hands.

“You extra thirsty this morning or?” you ask trailing off as he shakes his head.

“No these are for-”

“Tsukki!!” your younger sibling yells as they rush him.

“He’s got drinks, be careful!” you fret but they’ve already secured their arms around him. You mouth him a ‘Sorry’ as the pink on his cheeks returns slightly.

“Hey short stack,” he says as he lowers his hand which holds a drink holder and four drinks, “Here’s your hot chocolate.” 

They gasp and take it from him. “Thank you Tsukki!”

You can see a small smile creep up on his face as he says, “No problem.” He ruffles their hair a bit with his free hand and they beam up at him.

“You got the goods?” your sister asks as she emerges from her room, eyes basically still closed from sleep.

“Right here ya gremlin,” he says holding out her drink to her. She grabs it and immediately turns around to head back to her room.

“Say thank you at least!” you call out to her before she stops for a second.

“Yeah okay, thank you Dino Man,” she says waving her hand before going back to her room.

You shake your head before turning back to him, “Sorry, she’s usually only like that when she’s tired.”

He shrugs his shoulders a bit. “It’s fine, I don’t care,” he says holding out your drink to you and you take it gladly.

“Thank you,” you say smiling up at him.

“We’re the polite one’s,” your sibling announces proudly, causing the two of you to laugh a bit.

He nods his head as he leans down to them. “I’ve noticed,” he says before you usher them off to go get ready for school.

You grab your coat and meet him at the door. “Sorry for them, they’re a lot to deal with first thing in the morning,” you say, locking the door behind you with one hand.

“It’s really fine, if it was too much I’d tell you right?” he asks, gesturing with his own drink and swinging his free hand by his side. (Which is an invitation for you to hold it, which you gladly do.)

“I guess so,” you say as you lean into him a bit as you two walk. He pushes up his glasses and looks away but you can see the blush at the tips of his ears. You smile a bit before holding up his hand in yours to give it a little kiss.

“Ngk, what was that for?” he asks, turning to face you so you could see his embarrassed features more clearly.

“You have cold hands, I was trying to warm them up,” you say innocently but he knows better.

“Right, sure,” he says as you break away for a minute to pull out your phone and headphones. “You know you should really invest in some better earbuds.”

You look at yours which are practically falling apart, but hey! You had some tape holding bits together so it was ‘fine’ for the time being. “I guess you’re right. Do you think I can guilt my parents into getting me new ones?” you ask jokingly and he practically chokes. “Hey, joking, joking.” You raise your hands up and he shakes his head with a mumble. 

“Here, let’s just use mine,” he says fishing them out of his backpack. You hum in agreement as he hands you one. Putting it in, you lean into him again and lightly shut your eyes letting the music wash over you.

Tsukishima's chest vibrates a bit, signaling to you that he had said something while you weren’t paying attention. “Huh?”

“I said are you okay? You seem exhausted,” he says as his eyebrows furrow in concern. For a moment his face reminded you of your sibling and for some reason that upset you. 

You didn’t want him worrying so you just smiled and laughed off his comment. “Yeah, I just stayed up too late last night.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, clearly not satisfied with your answer.

“Yeah! We had a sibling sleepover and they kept me up for a bit.” He’s pretty good at reading people so you tried your best to seem more energetic than before. “Also thank you so much for the drinks, I’ll pay you back for them tomorrow,” you say trying to change the topic.

At this he scoffs, “You know when I said I was gonna be a good boyfriend today I meant it. I don’t want you to feel like you have to pay me back or anything.”

God could this boy be any more perfect? He’s so sweet--even if he constantly denies it. Sure, sometimes he can seem like a cold person on the outside but he has a big heart and you were so grateful that he trusted it with you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks as you realize you had been staring at him with heart eyes.

“I love you, you know that right?” you ask and his eyes widen and his cheeks flush.

“I- Well, yes you’ve told me that before,” he stutters trying to hide his face behind his hand.

“Good cause I do, very much,” you reply, bringing down his hand as you pull him into a kiss. The amount of heat from his face almost makes you laugh but you hold it in. Content to just feel his lips move against yours. When you pull away you can’t help but smile as he sinks his face into his coat a bit. “Did that warm you up Kei?” you as he rolls his eyes which show the faintest bit of a smile.

“Oh shut up.”

___________________________

You were able to get through most of the day without falling asleep thanks to the caffeine from your gifted drink, but you still couldn’t help but feel exhausted. And it’s not like after school you could’ve gone home to take a nap because not only did you have to meet up with one of your teachers because of your suffering grades, but even when you did get home you wouldn't be able to get any peace and quiet.

Leaving the meeting with your teacher--where you promised you would work harder--you emerged from the building to see your boyfriend waiting for you out in the cold.

“Kei? What are you doing here?” you ask as he notices you walking his way.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks, “I waited since you’re coming home with me to study.”

“I- But- When did you decide that?” you sputter out.

He shrugs his shoulder as he pretends to think. “Around the same time I realized that I was the only reason you were passing your classes. So come on let’s go,” he says holding his arm out for you.

“Psh, you’re not the only reason,” you answer and he gives you a look as you hook your arm through his.

“Oh right, of course,” he says and chuckles a bit when you stick your tongue out at him.

___________________________

So the past 30 minutes had been spent working on your late work while Tsukishima helped you. But the longer you worked the more the page had begun to blur as your droopy eyelids threatened to close and not open again. 

He took notice immediately and tried to urge you to take a quick nap but you refused. This was probably the only time that you would be able to get a bulk of your homework and missing work done. 

Once you went back home all that work would have to be pushed aside so you could take care of your siblings. It’s something that has been stressing you out for the past couple of weeks. 

Before, you’d at least be able to finish some of your homework at night but since your parents couldn’t stop fighting the minute they both got home, that quickly changed.

“Come on, I doubt you can even see the paper like that,” he says looking at your squinted eyes which you couldn’t help but rub.

“M’fine Kei,” you mumble leaning your head against your arm.

He rolls his eyes as he scoots closer to you, “Like hell I’ll take that for an answer. You couldn’t even form two separate words.” 

You glare at him before turning back to your paper. “I’m really fine thank you for asking,” you say, tapping your pencil on the table. “How was that?”

“If I’m being honest, six of ten. You see, the average person would be fooled but not me," he says before becoming earnest, "Seriously, what’s going on?” he asks gently resting his head on your shoulder.

Now you don’t know if it was the exhaustion or the care that you heard in his voice but something in you broke--making hot tears run down your face no matter how hard you willed them to stop. 

“Fuck,” you whisper and he immediately pulls you into a hug.

“Hey c’mere,” he says and you grab onto him tightly. He lets you sob into his shoulder as he holds you in his arms. 

“I’m just so tired Kei, I’m so fucking tired. Of my parents fighting, of my shit sleep schedule, of taking care of my siblings. I love them, I do, it’s just- I don’t want to have to be a parent to them when I'm still just a kid! I’m just a fucking kid,” you say, your voice cracking against your will.

Tsukishima is the last one to know what to say to comfort people so he just holds you and rocks you back forth a bit. It breaks his heart to see you like this. He knew things were bad but he didn’t know they were this bad. Maybe he should’ve asked you about it more instead of let you brush it off. What if you didn’t want to talk to him about it because you were scared he’d judge you? Sure he was abrasive sometimes but never to you. God he’d never want to do that to you. He just...liked to tease. Maybe he had been a bad boyfriend to you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry for crying. I’ve just had a bad week,” you say as you wipe your tears and go to pull away but to your surprise he doesn’t let go. If anything he pulls you closer.

“Don’t be sorry I...I know that I can be...a bit of an ass sometimes but if you ever need me--and I mean ever--I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” His face is now buried in the crook of your neck and you can feel his shaky breath on your skin. “If I ever made you feel like you couldn’t...I’m- I’m sorry.”

You immediately pull back in shock. “Kei no, you didn’t, trust me. I just- I just didn’t want to worry you. You have enough on your plate with volleyball and I just didn’t want to bother you with my mess,” you confess and he just leans his head against yours.

“You could never bother me,” he says and you laugh causing him to roll his eyes and add, “Not with the important stuff at least.”

“Excuse you, how to pronounce gif is very important,” you say.

“Nope, nope, no we aren’t getting into this again,” he says as he picks you up.

You quickly grab a hold of his shirt and he grins. “What are you doing!”

“I’m taking you to bed because you need to sleep and I don’t mind holding you for a bit longer.” 

He takes you burying your face into his chest as a sign of resignation from your previous argument. 

With you in his arms, he walks straight to his room and it’s only when he opens the door does he notice that you actually fell asleep in them. Besides the fact that that’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen, he’s now got to figure out how to keep you asleep when lays you on his bed. He opts to lay you down first before climbing under the covers to join you. 

His fingers push the hair out of your face and he leans down to give you a kiss on the forehead causing you to cuddle closer to him. His heart clenches when you absentmindedly reach out your hand for his. He brings it up to his lips for a kiss as he looks across to you.

“Goodnight,” he says before adding much, much softer, “I’m so in love with you."

----------------------------------------------------------

Tags! @mixfi (idk if you were joshing when you said you wanted to be on my taglist but here it is!)

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XI]

Word count: 5,131 

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

AO3 link

Author’s note: My beta reader gave me a few suggestions and it's truly something that's been bugging me, so I decided it would be better to check with you guys, my readers. I'm writing this story purely for fun so I don't mind changing things. I'm not well versed in writing Character x reader stories and I'll admit the whole concept sometimes escapes me (ahem, fully does) and my beta pointed out that it's become an OC x Dracula fic. This chapter in particular touches into something that may upset some people if they're really invested into the reader POV, which is religion. You may not agree with the reader's thoughts regarding christianity, and I don't want to needle anyone's beliefs because this is a reader insert. My question is: would you guys prefer if I gave the reader a name, in which case she becomes a fully realised character? I'll still avoid describing her because then you can picture her however you like. Longwinded question, I know, but I thought it deserved some explanation. On a more positive note, I made two spotify playlists; one is oriented towards alternative songs (mostly) and the other one is purely made up of classical pieces.

Regardless, ENJOYYY

________________________________________________________

The rest of the trip would have been completely silent if it wasn’t for Portishead’s music. 

I barely looked at Dracula as he dropped me off at the Airbnb I had rented. He parted with a promise to meet me at the wedding tomorrow and an indifferent goodbye, although when I made it all the way to the flat’s second floor, his car was still parked at the front door. When I turned around to throw my backpack on the bed and looked out the window again, the black BMW was gone.

Not even the wide array of DVD stacks inside the Airbnb managed to keep my mind off of Dracula.

After settling in and having a shower, I occupied myself with sitting in front of the TV in the living room and analysing the owner’s collection – an impressive one at that – however, when I picked up a copy of The Rocky Horror Picture Show I could almost hear Count Dracula laughing as I sang along to Frank N Furter and immediately put the disc back to where it belonged. So I chose something harmless to watch.

As Mulder and Scully bickered about aliens on the television in another episode of The X-Files – really, props to the Airbnb owner for supplying his entire collection to guests – I glanced at my phone for the hundredth time. 

Would Count Dracula be a Scully or a Mulder? Such a silly thing to wonder about, nevertheless I was curious about it. Perhaps if he was here with me, watching TV and making his remarks about what was going on, I would manage to concentrate on the episode playing. 

It had worked out fine last time. Well, for the most part. As long as we didn’t watch anything with sexual undertones such as Interview with the Vampire, I would be fine. For how long, was the question.

I frowned as I rewinded the last 10 minutes on the DVD player. Scully was lying in a hospital bed while Mulder screamed at a doctor when just two minutes ago Mulder had been talking to their boss. Obviously, I had missed more than two minutes, too stuck in my thoughts about the Count.

I glanced at my phone again. 

He’d be gone tomorrow. And I needed to know if he would like Scully or Mulder better.

I took my phone between shaky fingers.

A small part of me, one that was still thinking straight, suggested that maybe I shouldn’t do this on account of that kiss earlier. But nothing of what had happened during that trip mattered anymore, not when I would never see him again. Whatever I did today would have no consequences.

 Are you there?

Count Dracula replied just as Mulder screamed at the doctor, and I still had no idea why.

 Yes.

I typed a message as quickly as I could before I regretted this.

 I can’t sleep. 

I chewed on my lip as I waited for a response but when none came, I started typing another text and then erased it. Inviting him over might develop into less innocent things than simply watching TV. 

I curled my toes. I came this far. I resisted him this long. There was no reason to jump ship at the last second. 

Tomorrow he’d be carted away by the Foundation and while I would very much like to do more than kiss Count Dracula, the idea of giving myself to him and then never feeling his touch again seemed unbearable. 

 Do you want to take a stroll through Gloucester?

I’ll be there in a few minutes.

His reply came so quick that he must have been staring at his phone, waiting for me to send another text.

I rushed to change from pyjamas into jeans, jacket and boots. I had just finished fixing up how I looked when my phone buzzed. Without bothering to read the text, I left the flat, heart beating like a hummingbird’s as I went down the stairs to the building’s front door. 

Count Dracula wore the same leather jacket as earlier, waiting for me just as he had waited hours ago in London.

“Did you walk all the way here?” I asked as soon as I noticed the BMW’s absence.

“I was in the neighbourhood.” He smiled.

“Exploring?”

He smirked but said nothing.

“Eating, then,” I concluded. “Drinking, sorry. I forgot you get stuck in the technicalities.”

“You get used to it,” he said, extending a hand for me. 

I gasped when I placed my hand on his. Someone else’s blood had made his temperature rise from cadaveric cold to match my own but I was too fascinated by how plump his flesh felt to care about an unknown person’s death. 

“You don’t feel like a statue,” I said, squeezing his hand to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.

“You get used to it,” he repeated. “Come. I found a lovely place to break into.”

He pulled me to him so fast that my stomach lurched. I almost lost balance but he wrapped an arm around my shoulders to steady me. 

“May I remind you that I’m human and next time you do this I might throw up in your shoes?” 

My vision was still swimming and I had to lean my body on his until I could see properly. 

“I’ll warn you next time.”

I craned my neck to look up at him, noticing absently that I had my arms around him in a hug. Light coming from a neighbouring house glowed behind his head likening a saint’s halo. Horns would be more suitable, and more alluring. 

“Will I like this place you intend to take me?” 

“More than I will,” he said, securing me in an inescapable hold, one I had no desire to fight. “It’s a cathedral.”

“Gloucester Cathedral?” I loosened my arms around him. “It’s a holy place,” I said and he cocked an eyebrow. “Can you even set foot in there?”

He snorted.

“I can waltz with you in there while reciting biblical verses as long as I don’t look upon the cross.” 

“I’d like to see that. A healthy dose of blasphemy is always fun.”

A slow smile spread on his lips.

“Then you’ll love it.”

To my dismay, he untangled himself from me but still kept an arm around my shoulders in a half embrace. Instead of avoiding him, I circled his waist with my arm, basking on how uncharacteristically warm he felt in comparison to the chilly night. 

Dracula looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, though a grin creeped on his mouth. For the first time, we had exchanged roles – he, doubtful that I was so willing to touch him, and I, sure of what I was doing ever since I struck that deal. 

Pity it wouldn’t last long.

“Lead the way,” I told him. 

  _______________________________________________________

Except for a couple of stray cats and a dog, Count Dracula and I were the only ones wandering through Gloucester’s narrow streets and quaint façades. The moon was hidden but with how bright it glowed, even beneath a swath of cotton clouds, I would guess it was full. 

I relied more on Count Dracula’s eyes than on the unsteady old street lights that seemed to hail from the 18th century, but I didn’t need his vampire eyes to catch a glimpse of a towering Gothic building, concealed behind a row of modern restaurants and stores, all closed now that it was closer to dawn than to dusk, wedged inside small houses stylised in Tudor architecture. 

“Here we are,” said Dracula just as we rounded the corner and faced Gloucester Cathedral.

It was an enormous and monstrous thing yet beautiful all the same in all its complicated detail of spiking roofs and pointed narrow glass that composed huge windows amongst blocks of stone. Sculptures of saints and kings stood watch at the front, arching above the intricately woven entrance. 

“Is there an alarm this time?” I asked as we approached the door. 

“What for? Christians trust their god to keep it safe. There is someone sleeping inside, though. A priest if I had to guess, so we’ll have to be very quiet.”

“There goes my plan,” I said, although I had none. No space for calculated words and carefully measured tone there. All I had left was impulsivity, and saying things without really meaning them provided me with a rush unlike any other. 

“What plan is that?” Dracula questioned, side-eyeing me.

I shrugged.

“What does it matter if I can’t be noisy now?” I snickered. I would have tried being reckless more often if I’d known I would earn so many bewildered looks from Count Dracula. “Open the door.” I bidded, staring at him. “Please?”

Something crossed his gaze, something that made me wish that he would press me against a wall and demand that I tell him about my sordid plan. But he did no such thing.

“Since you asked nicely,” he said, just as he had done earlier during our trip.

Dracula forced the door open with the same ease I would have opened an unlocked door.

My mouth was a little dry but the thrill of doing something forbidden still made my heart thud, despite the fear of being caught. Perhaps I’d been developing a new habit of doing dangerous things such as making deals with vampires, and getting excited at the prospect of desecrating a church with one. I would have to find a substitute to that after he was gone but I couldn’t think of anything that could compare. 

I followed Count Dracula into the cathedral’s nave. 

The massive round pillars surrounding the aisle took away some of the simplicity of the ribbed vaulting, which derived from early Gothic architecture if I remembered my art classes correctly. There weren’t any pews positioned in usual rows as most churches did, and from where I stood I couldn’t spot an altar. The place seemed bare without them but it was still imposing, as most religious things were, I supposed.

The ground's yellowed stone, that one day may have been white, was dappled with a luminescence of blue, red and purple. I whirled around, looking up to find out where that variety of colours came from, and grinned upon finding a stained glass window that extended all the way up to the ceiling. 

“I never liked churches as a child,” I whispered to Dracula, ignoring that he probably knew it. “They creeped me out. I couldn’t understand how some people felt love inside them, when all I felt was judgement. And like I was being watched by saints, angels and Jesus.” I grimaced as I admired the pictures on the glass. Saints looked back at me with their saintly stare. Jesus Christ was pictured at the centre pane. “My parents weren’t very religious but my grandmother was one of those fervent catholics, full of guilt and fear. She used to take me to mass every other Sunday at Westminster Abbey until one time when I started arguing with the priest during his sermon about how illogical the bible is at some points.” I glanced at Dracula and saw him chuckling soundlessly. “I was 13. My grandmother was so humiliated and angry at me that she never took me to mass again.”

“And you were relieved to never have to go back again,” Dracula supplied. “How do you like churches now?”

“I like them as long as I’m just visiting. And I’m not scared of them anymore, not since I won that argument with the priest.” I looked at him. He was making a point of observing the rest of the church instead of gazing at the stained glass as I was. “You were raised christian, too. And if Wikipedia is right, you fought in the name of God.”

“In another life.” He bobbed his head, lacing his hands behind his back as he wandered down the aisle. “Not the foolish, gullible and fearful catholic as Justina was.” Dracula cast a brief glance at me. “My late wife.” He explained but I had already surmised as much. 

Since he had mentioned her without my needing to ask, I felt the urge to goad him with more questions. The urge to see that odd semblance of grief in his face as I had seen weeks ago. The reminder that he was capable of emotion, still. But I left it alone. It was possible he would shut down and assume that distant and impenetrable façade, and then our last date would be over much faster than I was ready for it to be.

“No, you were more the type to rip people to shreds when they didn’t condone your faith.” I lowered my voice mid sentence when my words echoed. 

Following him down the aisle, I noticed that a big apparatus was raised up in a wooden structure ahead of us and it looked like an organ. Had we been alone at the church, I would have climbed up the stairs to knead a few keys just to hear the resounding, spine-chilling noise it would make. 

“Precisely.” Dracula laughed.

“Did you ever do it for fun?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you did.”

He turned around, stopping at the centre of the aisle a few metres away from me. 

“For fun, for boredom, but most of all to instill fear into my enemies’ hearts. Does it still bother you?”

I stopped.

It had when I first found out about it. And although he had just admitted torturing people simply for the fun of it, it didn’t bother me nearly as much as before. I ought to have been disgusted or disapproving, at the very least. It was a little worrying that I didn’t feel any of those things, like I had just discovered a part of me that was capable of terrible cruelty.

“No,” I said. “Not anymore.”

Dracula’s grin was all teeth as if that answer was everything he had been longing to hear. 

“You’re not nervous tonight.” He was still grinning. “You’re usually nervous around me.”

“Usually,” I agreed, smirking. 

Was this how it felt? Not having to worry, not caring about what could happen, not being cautious about every little thing, not minding that he had done horrible deeds and I still wanted his lips on mine?

This foreign feeling swelled inside my chest and my smirk became a grin. 

“Let’s see the rest of the place,” I said, beckoning him with my hand. “There is a door back there and I think I saw something interesting.”

I didn’t wait to see if he would follow and simply turned around, heading to my right where I had seen a long corridor dappled with more colourful light from stained glass. Through an arched portal, I could see the extent of the corridor but it still didn’t prepare me when I crossed the threshold. 

What I thought was only one corridor, was actually two positioned in an L-shape and I stood at the cusp of both. Elaborate lines composed patterns on the vaulted ceiling and walls, fanning into long and curved designs etched in stone and ending in what resembled flowers. Light poured from a collection of stained glass windows and with the way each corridor bent at their ends, I supposed the structure continued until it formed a rectangular. I squinted past a clear glass on a windowpane, and smiled. I could make out shapes of trees and what looked to be a fountain outside. These weren’t corridors but covered walks surrounding a square. Westminster Abbey had something similar.

“Gorgeous,” whispered Dracula.

I turned around to see what he was admiring. His stare was fixed on me, and I had a feeling it had been the same way when he spoke. He moved towards me and the stained glass bathed his face in red. Dracula placed one of my hands on his shoulder and took the other one into his own, extending our joined hands up in a dancing stance.

“I’ll step on your feet,” I warned as he splayed a hand on my back. “I’m not a good dancer.”

“I’ll teach you. Waltzing is easy, and I told you we would waltz.”

In a hushed voice as to not wake whoever slept inside the cathedral, Count Dracula instructed me how, his knees touching mine ever so slightly to point me in the correct direction as I stared down at our feet rasping on the floor, his hands pushing and tugging gently as we swayed to silence. 

After a little while, I felt confident enough not to step on his feet, although I had done it a few times during his lesson, and looked up at his face. We were both a mess of colours and blurry features clouded in darkness as we danced out and into the stained glass light. The air was so chilly that my lungs burned with the effort of dancing, his hand so unrealistically warm on mine as we danced pointlessly – it was surreal, and filled me with an unusual melancholy that I wouldn’t experience something like that again and happiness because I had let myself experience it.

“I dare not ask for love–” Dracula’s words cut through the silence and I drew a sharp intake of breath for what he was about to say. His next words were accompanied by the cadence people used to recite something, which removed some of the impact of what he had first said and I relaxed. 

“ I dare not ask for love – with all

My many sins, both great and small,

I am perhaps of love unworthy!

But if feigned love, if you would

Pretend, you’d easily deceive me,

For happily would I, believe me,

Deceive myself if but I could. ”

I held my breath halfway throughout but continued to dance. The mention of love completely escaped me when he spoke of deceit and I could not help but wonder if he suspected me of it. Did he know I was leading him on and did not care? Or did he know about me and Zoe and this was just a fancy way of telling me so? My heart raced. I hoped he took it not as panic but exhilaration instead.

“Is that in the bible?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“It’s Pushkin. I’ve been reading Russian literature again, old and new and it’s stuck in my head. Pushkin remains a favourite of mine and Anna Akhmatova is a close second from the new generation. Well, old generation, for you.” He chuckled. “The Pushkin stanza sounds better in Russian. Most things sound better in Russian,” he said in an even voice. I raised my eyebrows at him, and he recited the verses in Russian, and although I understood none of it, it did sound better. “This, however, is from the bible. I don’t remember from which book but I remember that I liked it when I was human. I’m translating directly from Latin, though, because that’s how I studied the bible, so I’m taking a few liberties here to make it sound better, and less ridiculously holy. It goes like this:  Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.”

“It could very well be Pushkin,” I offered. 

“It could. Ironically, I prefer these verses more than Pushkin’s.” He laughed lightly and I fully relaxed. He sounded like himself, not at all as if he knew something he wasn’t supposed to. 

I did wonder, though, why he chose those verses out of anything else to declaim. Pushkin was a hopeless romantic through and through from what I had read of him. Of Anna I knew little but what I did know spoke of bitterness, death and failed, tragic love. Why suddenly speak of love? He could’ve quoted something else from the bible. Perhaps something to do with Samson and Delilah, since we had joked about it in the past. Anything else would have made more sense, even the parts that made no sense at all and had driven me to argue with a priest years ago.

Was Count Dracula attempting to tell me something? No. Couldn’t be. He was as forward as one could be. And the idea of him feeling anything remotely close to love seemed a little silly. 

He had loved Justina; more than he thought he was capable of, he’d said. But that had been centuries ago in another life. 

For a moment my determination in being reckless faltered and I felt at loss for what to say. 

Dracula let go of me briefly to spin me around in a move I wasn’t as deftly trained in as he was, causing me to squeal at the velocity and trip over my feet. I thought I would fall but he caught me and started moving again in the waltz pattern he had taught me. Laughter bubbled up to my throat in my hurry to catch up with him and the sound of it was amplified by the long walls. Dracula’s laughter joined mine until it became a song for which we danced.

It doesn’t matter, nothing matters.  I thought as I gazed up at him.  He’ll be gone and whatever I say doesn’t matter anymore. I can entertain even the wildest of things because they’ll never happen. Nothing will happen, for the rest of time.

“I’ve got one for you,” I breathed as we spun in a dizzying pace. “The Devil’s hands directs our every move; the things we loathed become the things we love.” It didn’t come out nearly as expertly as his declamation but I was out of breath, spinning and spinning as he commanded. Like a ballerina in a music box. Dracula simply stared at me, the corners of his lips in their own fight of tugging upwards or downwards. “It’s Baudelaire. Have you read it?” I wasn’t sure if I saw him shake his head. Suddenly, we were dancing so fast that I could barely see my surroundings, much less his face. “I know Baudelaire as you know the bible, only the parts that matter, but I know them from heart. There’s one phrase that I particularly relate to, especially now.” I gulped as if I was looking down a cliff. “What can an eternity –”

Dracula stopped abruptly and I gasped, strands of my hair landing on my face as my head reeled at suddenly being motionless. The world still whirled around and I swayed on my feet as if I had forgotten how to keep myself standing up still, but the Count’s grasp kept me in place. 

Interrupting our dance, I realised not a second later, was for the best. I’d been about to quote something very dangerous, something that could land me with both feet on a grave for all eternity with Count Dracula. And I would’ve said it out of sheer wickedness, just because I was tempted about what could happen if I broke a few rules. 

I looked up at his face, heart teetering on the verge of stopping in fear of what I would find in his expression. But Dracula wasn’t paying attention to me. His eyes were focusing past my head. And then I heard it. Footsteps.

Our laughter must have woken up whoever had been sleeping inside the cathedral.

“What -?” A male voice drifted from behind me, sounding panicked and angry. “You can’t be here at this hour!”

“Shit,” I whispered to Dracula. “What now?”

He gave me a lopsided grin.

“This is your warning,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice now that we had been caught. I had time to frown at his reply before both of Dracula’s arms pulled me into an embrace, my feet swinging beneath me. I emitted a sound of surprise but didn’t struggle. “Hold on and please try not to throw up on my shoes, they’re rather expensive.”

I had one valuable second to wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest before we moved faster than I thought was possible. My insides tossed inside of me, suddenly demanding for a way out of my body’s cage. I kept my eyes closed the entire time, too frightened of opening them. I had never gone on a roller coaster ride but I supposed the feeling was similar. 

Gusts of wind assailed my hair and threatened to steal the breath out of my lungs. I was afraid the feeling would last forever until we finally stopped and I landed on safe ground.

“You can let go now, Y/N.”

“Can you give me a second?” I mumbled, eyes still shut. “I think my soul is still trying to find a way back into my body.”

Dracula’s laughter tickled my ear and I tightened my hold on him. He did, too, his fingers pressing gently on the flesh of my back. Slowly, as if in a limp, my senses caught up with me and my stomach settled on what felt like an appropriate position. 

I opened my eyes tentatively and turned my head to the side. Startled, I realised he had brought me all the way from Gloucester Cathedral to the street where my Airbnb rental was located. And he’d done it in a span of two minutes, if not less. 

I tipped my head to look at him, resting my cheek on the cold of his leather jacket. Dracula’s eyes were closed, sets of black eyelashes casting soft shadows on his face, and he was breathing steadily. Not because he needed to, I presumed, but because he was taking in my scent. My lips tugged up automatically; it was odd perceiving that as something sweet but I did.  

His throat moved, drawing my attention. A most devilish thought occurred to me and before I gave myself too much time to dwell on it, I stretched up and nibbled at the skin of his neck. It lasted no more than five seconds but the sound that came out of Dracula would be seared into my memory forever. Raw, rapturous, and chilling at the same time. Satisfied, I let go of him, but he didn’t let go of me. Too fast for me to react, he took my hands and placed them where they had been, and then trapped me into his embrace again.

I had just blurred some very important lines with what I had just done, and yet part of me only cared about the thrill of it.

“Your scar has faded,” he said, and my heart hammered madly. A hand delved into my hair, grabbing a mass of it to expose my neck. “You didn’t really think you could get away with what you just did, did you?”

“Not really. But if you bite me without my consent, then the deal is off.”

“And I have no intention of breaking my word. Don’t think of this as reprisal. It’s more of a gift, such as you’ve just given me.”

Dracula bent his head slowly towards my bare neck, like he was giving me time to protest. I remained silent. It was imprudent, this need to know what he would do, but I wanted to garner every possibility of my time with him to cherish in my heart, forever. And the uncertainty of it made me all the more excited. I stared up at the sky and then his lips touched my throat where he had bitten me, softly, so very softly. And then again, not softly at all. Riveting pleasure sparked to life as if the scar was still fresh and I choked on my breath. Dull teeth nibbled the skin there and a flash of pulsating warmth coursed down my chest and back, spreading gradually in the same way spilled blood spread on the ground: trying to encompass everything in its wake, tainting it with inevitable appeal and fear of what it meant. I held on to Dracula forcefully, more forcefully than one would judge to be adequate, and he laughed against my skin before giving it a long lick. 

“Careful,” he whispered in my ear. “I may interpret your willingness as consent. And I know you well enough to know you won’t give it to me easily. Will you?”

“No.” The word was automatic and I thanked the part of me that still harboured a sense of self-preservation above my heedless desire for him. However, I still leaned all of my weight on him and made no attempt to put distance between us, as I should’ve. “Not easily at all.”

Dracula, showing way more restraint than I had all night, disentangled my hair from his fingers and stepped back. It took everything in me not to launch myself into his arms again but I let my hands drop to my sides.

“You’re dangerous,” he accused.

“Not as much as you are.”

“A different kind of dangerous.” He licked his lips. Could he taste my skin in his mouth? 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is one.”

I smiled. Being called dangerous filled me with power. Power over him. I was delighted for only a second before wondering if he would think the same thing tomorrow when I stuck a needle with sickly blood in him.

“The cathedral was a good idea,” I said. “Defiling a church has always been in my to-do list, plus I learned how to waltz. So thank you for that.” I sighed. “I should really go to bed now, and so should you. Isn’t the sun almost coming up?”

He nodded. 

“Before you go–” he looked behind me with obvious disdain at the building I was staying at and then back at me “–what were you quoting before the priest came upon us?”

I gulped.

“I don’t remember.”

He narrowed his eyes, shifting closer.

“You’re lying. I thought we had established that you don’t lie to me.”

“You established that.” I stepped back, conjuring a cheeky smile. “I didn’t.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ll regret it,” I admitted. “And I prize my sleep. I prefer not to go to bed with a heavy heart.”

He stared at me for a long moment and I waited under his scrutiny, doing my very best to keep it together.

“Tomorrow, then,” he finally said. “Tell me tomorrow.”

But I wouldn’t tell him tomorrow. I would tell him nothing at all. 

“Okay. Goodnight, Dracula.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

As I laid my head on the pillow that night, I realised I still didn’t know if Dracula would like Scully or Mulder better. And would never know.

 .

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Taglist: @rheabalaur​ @festering-queen​ @feralstare​ @deborahlazaroff​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​ @girlonfireice​ @thorin-smokin-shield​ @a-dorky-book-keeper​ @dreamer2381​ @apocalypsenowish​ @saint-hardy​

[nochanchu]

down for you

pairing: wong yukhei x reader genre: best friends to lovers au | fluff, romance, themes of relationship jitters, includes a hookup mention (no smut though!) and overthinking but i promise it’s cute and sweet--hell, there’s a date at disneyland here! wc: 5,184 description: Contrary to common belief, being in a relationship with your best friend isn’t as easy as you’d think. It’s new territory for the both of you; luckily, you have him to remind you that it’s all learning process that you two are taking together. author’s note: hey y’all! em here randomly dropping a fic i’ve had in the works for like two-ish years now? here i am! maybe i’ll even wind up writing more~

Sometimes you have to ask yourself if dating Wong Yukhei is a good idea, if the executive decision to cross boundaries from the “Should we try this?” to the “Holy fuck, are we actually trying this?” is worth the awkwardness of transitioning.

It’s not weird. Per se. It’s more… different.

There are things you’ve done with him that you don’t think twice about like going out to boba places or spending twelve consecutive hours at the 24-hour library on campus. They’re like secondhand nature. You don’t have to overthink when you hit him up at 2 AM to go grab some coffee or if something’s just weighing on your mind and you just need a distraction. Whereas, there are still things that you aren’t quite sure about like kissing or holding his hand. Like you really fuckin’ want to, but another part of you wonders if this is the point of no return. If you metaphorically consummate this agreement that you’ll be losing him if things fall to shit.

Perhaps it helps that you’ve only known him for a couple of years. Somehow forging a friendship with one another after only a few obligatory discussions in a comparative literature class you both breezed through as easily as you both seemed to formulate a bond over a hot pot place up near the state’s capital city, because “if there’s one place everyone needs to try for hot pot, then that is the place.” (His words, not yours, but you agreed nonetheless.) You can vaguely recall how tentative conversations about homework stopped being about homework and more about what kinds of things you like, where you both hung out, and who you both knew, because unbeknownst to either of you, Dong Sicheng would be the bridge over the small gap between you two.

Because once Sicheng became a variable in the equation, suddenly it wasn’t just study hangouts together, it was coming out at ungodly hours for caffeine and snack food from all the best places in town. It was the necessary transition to be where you both are now, and it was the very push that essentially established a something-more and something-that-could-be, that has led you down this path of hand-holding and shy pecks when you think (and hope) no one else is watching.

The very thought of a relationship with Wong Yukhei still gets to you too. Not only has he single handedly integrated himself into your life as your best friend, he’s become your significant other. Your boyfriend. Your boo. Your… something (everything). And, realizing just how easily he has transitioned his way across your life makes you queasy and nervous, bringing forth a new bundle of emotions you locked away so long ago.

When you look at him, you ask yourself if this is something you should be doing, if what you’re really doing by participating with your best friend is truly okay, and if or when this comes to an end, will you be ready to deal with those consequences? You ask yourself if holding his hand and kissing his lips feel right or if running his hands through your hair or if his large, firm hands on your hips should feel that foreign.

You see happiness and possibility with him, but at the very same time, you fear for the crash and burn—

“You okay?” Yukhei asks with his eyes trained on you. His once far steps begin to match your slowed pace, no longer as excited as they once were for the tea cups.

The two of you have been abandoned by the rest of the group for obvious reasons, and somehow it does not bring you as much comfort as you once confided to Sicheng. In fact, the lack of tomfoolery and rowdiness that the rest of the group brings actually emphasizes the sudden stiffness that you’ve been trying to avoid since arriving at LAX. Although this trip has been planned months in advance, the development of your relationship with Yukhei is still new.

Back at home, it’s too easy to let yourself fall into that small comfort of interlocked fingers and the small shared smiles of camaraderie in your classes. You don’t think twice about it when no one else is around, and yet knowing that everyone else is traipsing around Disneyland while you’re both off doing your own thing makes you feel exposed. Like they know you guys are together, and yet you don’t know what they’re thinking about you two. The most frustrating part of it all is that you don’t usually care about what people think when it comes to you. Your relationships are merely an extension of you, so how this bothers you as much as it does, still doesn’t quite register in your brain all that well.

You know everything’s okay with him. You haven’t had issues over dumb things or really any issues at all. You can’t even deny that things have gone surprisingly well since his confession to you a few months back. In many ways, it has felt like a long time coming, and just about everyone in your shared friend group can agree. But now that it’s here, present and glaringly so, you’re actually quite nervous.

He says your name.

Instead of at the three-foot distance you could’ve sworn you two were at, his voice reaches you by the shell of your ear. The deep, huskiness articulating your name as it has plenty of times before elicits a sudden jump of surprise from you in response.

You flash him a glare when he lets out an abrupt snort and half of a hearty laugh.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says with the corners of his lips twitching. “But seriously, are you okay? You seem a little uneasy. Is it the crowd?”

You look up from a stray gum wrapper just as a few passersby brush against you two in an attempt to get to the teacups that’ve been calling Yukhei’s name since you both arrived at the amusement park. The prick of guilt surges over you as the line looks like you’ve both missed your shot at riding the multi-colored pastel cups this time, you respond with a sheepish laugh.

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m sorry for making you miss the ride though.”

He doesn’t look particularly convinced which is to be expected with all the time you’ve spent together, but he still waves off your apology with a casual grin. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and guides you down the lane toward the line, so neither of you miss the line on the next session.

“No need to be sorry, there’s always a next time,” he says with a small glance your way. You meet his look very briefly before looking back at the spinning machines coated in soft shades of pinks, blues, and yellows. He leans in once more though you don’t jump (thankfully) to ask, “Are you sure you’re alright though?”

You nod, tentatively wrapping your arm around his waist. “The crowd’s no biggie for me. It’s not actually that bad right now.”

“Is it something else then?” When you half-heartedly shake your head, he raises an eyebrow at you. “You can tell me if something’s wrong.”

You blink as his gaze meeting yours does not waver. He never fails to surprise you even when you think he isn’t paying attention. It’s like the time he knew when you were disappointed about your first physics midterm and when you failed your driving test the first time you took it. As soon as he received the half-hearted text message about your failure, he was right over with milk tea and your favorite stew from that one phở place you both love. His perceptive eye almost always catches you when you least expect it, whether that’s when you’re hiding your true emotions or needing someone’s shoulder to lean on. He just knows how to decipher you and your safeguards. And at this moment, you’re not sure whether you love it or hate it right now.

Because the offer tempts you. Of course, you don’t like keeping things from him. You’ve come to a point in your relationship where you can tell him everything and just about anything isn’t off the table, though this has long since been a thing even before you both decided to give romance a shot. Being “together” together doesn’t change that. It shouldn’t. That’s what you both agreed on. Truthfully, you just can’t tell if it is just you struggling to adjust or if he was just that good at hiding how he really felt, because again, he surprises you more than you like to admit. And that thought is enough for you to back off, the self-assurance of your own thoughts telling you that he would tell you if that were the case.

“I’m fine, I promise.” You try to smile, knowing fully well how fruitless the gesture is but still deciding to try it out anyway.

He’s obviously still unconvinced. But the longer he looks at you expectantly, the more you grow silent as a power play response.

If there’s one thing Wong Yukhei hates, it’s silence. It unnerves him. He needs something to fill the air, otherwise he can’t help but fidget. It’s why you can’t study too long together, because then neither of you will get anything done. And it’s especially why he heaves a sigh before amending the situation.

“You’re super sure then?”

You simply nod and he leaves the topic be as you both wait to get on the ride.

Waiting in such a public area doesn’t give either of you much cover. In fact, it leaves you both out in the open, like fish laid out to dry on a burning hot summer day or deer prancing in an open road. It’s as though Fate wanted you both to get spotted, much to your displeasure.

There’s a chorus of raucous laughter and shrill shrieks that could only belong to the loudest mouths of the bunch as soon as you and Yukhei inch forward. The sounds are too familiar for your liking, eliciting only a glare in the direction of all the ruckus as you and the very tall, very noticeable man besides you gives a sheepish wave of his own as your group of friends drinks both your interlocked hands and close proximities in like dehydrated flowers.

“Hey lovebirds!” Yuta pipes up, accompanied by his girlfriend. She’s almost sympathetic to your embarrassment if it weren’t for how cute you and Yukhei looked together, then she might’ve helped you out by calming the excited ash blond whose hand is entwined in her own.

They’re cute and admirable, a perfect example of friends to lovers, though with some minor adjustments—some of which was Yuta’s initial position as her Japanese tutor before finding the courage to ask her out compared to yours and Yukhei’s initial drunk sex-capade, a detail that you still have yet to come to a proper conclusion on, because how could things be so different from then to now? You almost wished you two hadn’t done the deed and instead started things off normally like confession without the pretenses of messing around in the background. But you decide not to indulge in retaliation, merely releasing Yukhei’s hand and stretching your limbs in front of you before resting your hands behind your head.

Sicheng very briefly catches your eye as if to ask you if things are going alright, but you ignore him and the audible groans from the others at the lack of skinship between you and Yukhei. You know they’ve been dying for yours and Yukhei’s relationship since the group started and finally took notice of your close friendship. But while you relished in this unification between your respective friend groups, which so easily blended together, you kind of wished it didn’t create such an immense pressure on you to fall into those standards of what couples do and how they’re supposed to act around one another.

Even if the embarrassment is wholly eating at you, their departure is something you relish in as you and Yukhei are prompted into the ride, leaving behind your friends and their incessant teasing.

“Ah, don’t mind them,” he tells you.

You give him a small nod, which causes him to place his palm atop your head for a couple of a seconds. It earns him a smile, even if it does not wholly reflect the thoughts inside your head.

/

At the very least, getting on the teacups changes the mood.

Being that it is his first time there, and you’re a Disneyland veteran, you have made it your own personal goal to give him the full experience. Like everyone else flying at unmeasurable speeds, you start off by grabbing hold of the steering wheel between you and the ash blond man, giving the warm metal several good turns to get the canary yellow teacup spinning. This keeps the momentum up, moving you both so rapidly, you don’t even realize how closely it has brought you together until you can hear his laughter at your side and one of his hands covers yours to join in on the spinning.

It stays like that too. Even after you both have exited off the ride, you both shakily navigate around the park in search of another ride to quench your thrill-seeking taste buds.

When you look up, you find him already staring at you and looking away from you all in the same moment. It makes you laugh, but you try not to exacerbate the teasing or the pink in his cheeks as you two pass through the vicinity. He has these moments where you've caught him looking at you; at first, you assumed it was because there might've been something on your face that you didn't catch before walking out of your dorm, and eventually, it became abundantly clear that he was simply trying to capture the moment. Last time you shared a moment like this, you both crossed the bridge from friends to lovers, and now you two were at the point of no return.

“What do you wanna do next?” you ask him.

You needed to break the moment. It helped to blink, just so you wouldn't fall back into your previous disposition. You didn't want to worry him, you didn't like to. It wasn't like he meant for things to happen as they did. He hadn't been one to initiate the hook-up, though he consented and reciprocated with as much fervor as you had. He had blurted out his confession shortly afterwards; it was quick, slurred together because his heart was probably ready to jump out of his chest when he realized it was now or never. Either you two would have done that or acted as if nothing had happened, and truthfully, you don't think you could've done the latter. Not when all your feelings seemed to sit in your throat, ready to jump out.

Truthfully, you've been one to admit your feelings to those you admired, but never with close friends. You had never liked your close friends. It wasn't some kind of unspoken rule or anything. It was just a matter of keeping romantic and platonic relationships from being one; it was easier this way, less messy in case things went awry. Close friends were hard to come by, relationships always complicated things to a point where you didn't know whether you had the same person in your life. Previous significant others had used secrets of yours against you; they would take what they wanted from you and leave, and it all hurt like a bitch.

It hasn't with Yukhei, you reassure yourself. And it truly hasn't.

He's looking at you with a goofy grin spread across his handsome face. He tells you, “Whatever you want to do."

The gesture is contagious, and you begin to feel butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

“You’re technically the expert here, so you take the reign,” he adds, running a hand through his hair. You know he doesn't want to do the wrong thing with you, partially from the group's advising and also because relationships just take that kind of patience. You two have spent a long time being friends, enjoying each other's presence without the same expectations as you two have now. Of course, it's a little different. Of course, you two can expect to be a little nervous. It's untouched territory, you have to remind yourself. You're both figuring shit out.

You don't want to freak him out, so you try to keep the banter up. It isn't hard when he's as expressive and funny as he is. It even helps you push aside all of these floating thoughts a little longer.

“Don’t I always?” you snicker as his jaw drops. It’s moments like this that are reminiscent of your relationship prior to now. Back then, it was easy to have flirty banter, because any sort of intention was simply in the background. It wasn’t mandated by your relationship status; instead it sort of just happened. It didn’t happen because it needed to. It happened because you two wanted it to happen.

He tries to muster up a serious enough tone, but you can hear the whine in it. The sound earns him another laugh from you. “No! I’m pretty sure I’ve had a fair share of being the leader,” he says, with a slight puff to his chest.

Tapping your chin, you reply, “I suppose so.”

The gesture exacerbates his dramatics by earning you a guffaw.

“I do! I may not be the Disneyland expert, but I can make a suggestion.” He tilts his head, ever-so-slightly. “Yeah?”

You stop tapping your chin to wave him on and his hand takes that hand into his. “Of course, you can!”

As he interlaces your fingers with his, you have a mild suspicion that he’s going to lead you to the Silly Symphony Swings. Only mild because it’s rather close and you could see that it was something he had his eyes on since you two arrived.

Something about the ride is reminiscent of him, perhaps he gravitates to them for the opportunity to make his childhood dream of flying come true. It was a superpower he mentioned during one of those god awful ice breakers on the first day of that comparative literature class, and something he went into further detail when you guys had your previous hangouts, before this relationship ordeal.

“Trying to fly, Superman?” You indulge in his desire to swing your arms. He loves it, practically bouncing as you two walk between the crowds.

“It’s just like how you make me feel,” he says, giving you a twirl as you approach the line. "Is that okay?"

It's so becoming of Yukhei to still ask if something is okay. You remember him mentioning how he used to get scolded for being too much with previous partners, always one for the cheesy gestures like twirling a loved one in those romantic comedies or quoting the absolutely cringey lines from movies just for the laughs. You found--and still do find--it endearing; the others not so much.

“Of course,” you say, laughing just as loudly as he does. “I can't control your feelings, silly."

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, "is that okay?"

You nod, almost ready to shut your eyes when he kisses the top of your head.

Moments like this serve to remind you that he still has your best interests in mind. He cares a whole fuck ton about you, and no change to your and his relationship status can ever alter that. He hasn’t changed into a completely different person like one assumes would happen in a relationship between friends, so why should you?

This feels right. The giggles, the weightlessness, his hand in yours.

/

You two finally catch up with your group for lunch at one of the all too expensive restaurants in the park. Since it is Yukhei’s first time there, you don’t mind it so much, as it is an experience you think people should have at least once.

Yuta eyes the two of you, seemingly ready to let loose another witty observation before his girlfriend shoves a French fry into his mouth. She smiles sweetly to him before flashing you an apologetic look.

You must’ve appeared a little disgruntled already. The time with Yukhei was both lovely and nerve-wracking, because a small but rather haunting part of you couldn't stop wondering if your time separated from the group would upset them. After all, they had extricated themselves from the two of you so you and Yukhei could spend more time together. What if you two had overindulged?

A part of your stomach churns as you and Yukhei take a seat beside the teasing boy. Being back with everyone begins to remind you of the initial doubts you had, the very ones you’ve had bubbling inside of you. And it makes you feel worse when you feel Yukhei reach for your hand across the table, because everyone is there, watching, waiting, and worst of all, expecting the two of you to be some sort of perfect, lovey dovey couple going through their honeymoon phase.

Maybe you guys should be, maybe it’s fine. You want to believe it is, but somehow the way you waver to hold hands, incites another comment.

“Trouble in paradise, love birds?” Yuta asks, raising an eyebrow at you two.

You give him a sidelong glance and shake your head.

“We’re fine,” Yukhei pipes in. He seems to overtake your thumb then, and he gives a short victory giggle, mainly to himself. It makes the corners of your lips twitch, though you stop short just as you hear Yuta speak again.

“Are you sure?” he inquires, looking at you this time.

“We’re fine,” you add, with a huff, “really.”

Yuta still seems to watch you both, though everyone else makes work of doing the same. It unsettles you just how much your relationship feels like it’s under a microscope, one wrong move and suddenly things are blown out of proportion.

Perhaps that's another reason why you aren't prone to going out with friends. The idea of a relationship having such an audience unsettles you. You like your privacy and keeping that kind of business under wraps. These things are supposed to be intimate, accepted if the partner is a good person for you (which Yukhei is on all levels), and yet, you feel like your relationship is proceeding jaggedly, because of the hyper-fixation.

You sigh, having already let go of Yukhei's hand once you and the others received your food. And the sigh doesn't go unnoticed either. You have a few glances from Yuta and Sicheng, Yukhei too, but you stand up and excuse yourself to the restroom.

Despite it being on the left, you take a right to get away from the restroom itself.

/

You manage to navigate through the crowd and remain within reach of the restaurant by hiding out in one of the souvenir shops that you and the others planned on visiting near the end of your visit. There's an assortment of Disney ears, stuffed animals from nearly all the movies, and things of that nature.

The ears have always caught your eye, the pink glittery ones, the blue ones. They're all made with different designs, based off of the various movies made by Disney and Pixar, and they remind you of a simpler time where relationships were yours, not part of an audience and watched. They also remind you of yours and Yukhei's mutual love for the movies; one of the main tipping points in your transition from classmate acquaintances to budding friends. His favorite had been the sweet and fun Hercules, while you heavily shared a love for that one, Treasure Planet definitely had your heart. Both were stories of characters trying to find their own in the world. You smile to yourself.

You’re just about to check your phone and update your friends and Yukhei about where you are when you see him. Your ash blond boyfriend who gives a small wave.

“Hey you,” he says as he makes his way beside you. He paws through the ears, probably to see if there are any Hercules-themed ears. 

“Hey,” you say, wishing you had found one just to give it to him. You decide to check for those on Etsy sometime later, or one of those Instagram boutiques, just to see him light up. 

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, stopping his search when he realizes it’s futile and looks at you. 

You don’t say anything, giving a shrug. “I’m sorry,” you say. 

“Talk to me,” he prods gently. “If that’s okay?” 

“I’ve been worried about us,” you admit. “Not that I don’t want this or you. I do. I’m just so uncertain about this whole thing.”

“That’s no reason to be sorry, you know,” he says. He offers a hand to you, an escape from the shop for more privacy, which you take. It's a brief walk to a seating area not too densely populated by the park visitors. It’s a bench beneath some of the all too perfect-looking shrubbery, where there are red little flowers with yellow dot-like centers to make it even more picture perfect. 

As soon as you two sit down, you immediately ask, “Did we fuck up by not confessing first?”

He shakes his head. “I think what we did was still special, even if it wasn’t very conventional to the kind of relationship we think should have. But I think whatever relationship we have, whatever start, is still pretty damn special.” 

Your hand is still in his, and he gives yours a squeeze. 

“Aren’t you worried?”

He lets loose a shaky laugh, “Of course I am. Relationships are so terrifying and new. I’m scared shitless wondering if I’m doing anything okay. That’s why I keep asking. I don’t ever want to put you in a situation where you feel uncomfortable or obligated in any shape or form. But you know what?”

You nod for him to go on. You didn’t realize he was feeling similar jitters.  

“As scared and nervous as I am, I’m just as excited to begin this new journey with you wherever it takes us. And if you don’t think you’re ready for it, then I’m fine backing off, taking things easy, or even trying to go back to the way things were. It wouldn't be the exact same, but again, I don’t want you to feel obligated to be in this relationship if it isn’t something you feel like doing.” 

“I want to,” you tell him. “I do. I really want to see how this goes, because you’re an amazing guy, Yukhei. I didn’t even realize you were scared too. I guess just thinking back on previous relationships and how we came to be got me overthinking. This is new for me. I’ve never dated a best friend before. If anything, that’s probably the most terrifying part about this. I don’t know what’ll happen by the end of it, if that comes and I don’t know when or if it will. But just not knowing drives me crazy.” 

“I mean, you were willing to consider that, so that says something, right? That you’re willing to take a leap of faith and see where we go together?” he asks, rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb. “I think us not being best friends anymore would suck, indefinitely. I think you’re one of my favorite people in this world, next to my mom.” You laugh just as he smiles. “But I think whatever happens happens because it’s meant to. We’ll be in each other’s lives, no doubt. I think it’d take time and space, but also communication if we wanna get through whatever pops up, yeah?”

“Yeah, you make a good point there,” you say, considering everything he’s said. It sounds like your rational side aloud. “I’m sorry for being such a mess.” 

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve been freaking out, wondering if I was doing something wrong. Being too much. If it wasn’t that, then I thought maybe I was being too much of a worrywart, but I’m sorry for not picking up on how you were feeling.” 

“You couldn’t have known unless I told you,” you point out. “Plus, another thing that’s been bugging me has been how doting our friends have been for some reason.” 

Yukhei agrees, “They have been, especially Yuta.” 

“I know it’s all in good fun, but I’ve been hypersensitive to it all. This whole trip has been giving me the jitters. I don’t know, it seems so silly,” from Yukhei’s look, it doesn’t see it so casually, which comforts you, “okay, not so silly, but it seems so odd to think that it wouldn’t be super easy to be with you. You’re great and I like that we can finally be honest with ourselves and our feelings, but somehow I expected best friends transitioning to a relationship to be less awkward?” 

“I’m sorry he’s been bugging you so much,” you give a shrug since you know Yuta means no harm by it, “I get what you mean. All the movies make this seem like it should be super easy and super perfect.” 

“Doesn’t it feel like we should be in our honeymoon phase already?” 

“Like the whole ‘I love you so much,’ ‘no, you hang up,’ and then that weird game of wanting to hang up but not wanting to hang up?” 

You both laugh at the ridiculousness. Neither of you are like that, kudos to those who are and can be, but it isn’t you guys. You laugh over silly things, nerd out over movies you love, break out in song and dance when the song absolutely calls for it. You guys have your own way of doing things, and even Yukhei understands the pressures and the uncertainties, and yet, he’s still more than willing to work through them and find ways that will. 

“You think we can make this work?” you ask, letting go of his hand because yours has gone a little clammy. 

He nods, “It helps with communication.” 

You laugh sheepishly as he pulls you into a hug. “No matter how you’re feeling I’m more than happy to hear what you have to say and I will try my damn hardest to help.” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, but he simply kisses your forehead after letting go of you. 

“I only want the best for you, silly. No apology needed.” 

In response, you simply pull him in for a kiss. It’s sweet and chaste, still different and new, but comforting all the same. He reciprocates, smiling into the kiss. 

Whatever thoughts you had earlier, you find that they don’t weigh as heavy on your shoulders anymore. Of course, it’s going to take some learning and communicating, but you’re as just as glad as he is that you guys get to do this thing together. 

[tranquil-space-ninja]

I Could Never Be Ready (Sanders’ Sides Human AU)

Ft. Parental Anciet, Rociet, and Demus, Parental Logicality, and a smidge of Mociet

Tw: minor character death, cursing, mention of a car accident, drunk driving, blood

--------------------------------------------------

Janus woke up in bed with each of the twins curled up at his sides. He smiled at his nephews a moment before his phone dinged. He glanced at it before pulling it off the charger and walking into the kitchen.

I don't care what that bitch's will said.

I want my kids back.

Janus sighed. He thought he blocked Diana's deadbeat boyfriend's number. He quickly typed out a response, though, to let that asshole know he wasn't coming anywhere near Roman, Remus, and Virgil.

First of all, that "bitch" is my sister, who died three months ago. If you actually cared about HER sons, you would have come for them earlier.

Janus took a few deep breaths to try and steady himself. He had told himself it wasn't Oliver's fault over and over. Oliver wasn't the one who was driving drunk, Oliver wasn't the one who hit Diana's car at three in the morning, Oliver wasn't the one who took a mother away from two five-year-olds and a baby. And yet......

They're MY kids. I made them.

If you think you can take them just because Diana said you're their guardian, then you've got another thing coming.

Hands shaking, Janus deleted the messages and blocked Oliver's number. Oliver might not have killed Diana, but his drinking habit and inability to hold a job had drained her college fund. He might not have hit her car, but he disappeared in the middle of the night and left her with nothing. He might not have taken his son's mother from them, but he was the reason she was out on the road that late.

And if he thought he could take Janus's nephews just because he was their birth father--

"Uncle Janny?" Janus turned around to see Remus looking up at him, sleepy eyed and clutching an octopus plushie. "Can I have some water?"

"Of course, sweetpea," he said softly as he walked to the sink. As soon as Remus had a glass in his hand, Virgil started crying. Janus hurried to their room and had a bottle for him in minutes.

Soon everyone was fast asleep again. Janus hugged the twins closer to him, heart pounding. His apartment was too small, Oliver was back in his life, and all his friends were either at University or settling down, too far away for him to reach. Janus had never felt so alone.

***

Roman was sobbing, Remus was holding his hand, and Janus was trembling. "W-what happened," he asked, staring at the blood covering Roman's knee and dripping down his leg.

"He tripped and fell hard on the sidewalk," Remus said. Janus took a deep breath.

This was bound to happen. Just go get some towels, or bandaids, or something.

Janus forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and get the supplies necessary to treat a hurt knee. When all the blood was cleaned up, the scrape wasn't that bad. Roman's tears slowed down and Remus's grip on his hand loosened. Roman gave Janus a hug once the bandaid was on.

"Thanks, Uncle Janny."

"Of course. I love you."

"Love you, too." Janus smiled. He was still shaking, but everything was okay now. His phone chimed twice, and he glanced at it. The first message made his heart skip a beat.

I've got a lawyer now, Pine. I'm taking them back.

How did he get around the blocking? How?

"We're gonna go back out and play again, okay," Remus asked.

"No!" The twins flinched. "I-I mean..... Why don't we stay inside and watch movies?" Remus and Roman exchanged a look, then slowly nodded. Janus smiled, pushing back the tears of relief in his eyes. "Okay! I'll make pizza and garlic bread. You guys pick a movie, okay?" Roman and Remus went to the media cabinet. Janus threw some frozen pizzas and breadsticks into the oven, locked all the windows and doors, and grabbed Virgil.

The rest of the night, every bump startled him. He never fell asleep, either, for fear of Oliver breaking down the door and taking the boys from out from under his nose. His phone went off twice more during the night. He left it, terrified that it was more threatening messages. And as the clock inched closer and closer to seven, there was only one thought in Janus's head.

I'm not ready for this.

***

Janus checked his phone on his break, struggling to keep his eyes open. There was nothing more from Oliver, thank God, but there were three unanswered messages from a number Janus didn't recognize.

Hey, this is Janus Pine, right? I'm Patton Hart.

I was your nephews' doctor when they lived in my area. I'm sorry I wasn't able to come to Diana's funeral. I didn't hear she died until last night. She was a good friend, though. I've known her since Roman and Remus were babies.

I just realized how late it is. Sorry.

Janus read over the messages a few times and smiled a bit.

Hello, Dr. Hart, he typed. I'm sorry I didn't answer your messages last night. I received some upsetting news.

Patton responded almost immidiately.

That's okay! I just thought you might want to hear from one of her friends. And, please, call me Patton.

Janus smiled. Then another text from Patton came.

I.... Also wanted to make sure the boys were okay. They're living with you, right?

Janus frowned. That was a little suspicious.

Yes, my nephews live with me, and they're quite alright. Why?

Janus had to go back to work again, but he'd be talking to Patton more once he was home.

***

Patton didn’t answer until Janus had finished washing the dishes from dinner.

No reason! They were friends with my son and I wanted to let him know they were doing alright. He’s been really worried.

Janus stared at the message, sensing bullshit from miles away.

You know about Oliver.

.... Has he been giving you trouble?

He has a lawyer and is trying to take the kids from me.

That fucking asshole!

Janus gaped at the last message. From what he could tell, Patton was fairly sweet and even-tempered. Then again, he didn’t really know him. They had only met today, and only over texts.

Sorry for that. He just makes me so mad.

Join the club.

Diana was too good for him. That deadbeat never did anything but drink, watch TV, and scare the twins. They stayed over here practically every other night for two weeks, then Oliver just up and left. Diana had to work and care for the boys on her own for months.

She was hysterical when she called. She was actually going to move her family back here and live with me before her car got hit.

Yeah. You shouldn’t have to worry about Oliver too much, though. I took Diana to get his parental rights terminated about two months before she left.

Janus laughed a bit, wiping tears out of his eyes. Oliver couldn’t take his nephews away from him!

Thanks, Patton. That makes me feel a lot better.

No problem, Janus!

You know, if you wanted, you all could stay with my son and I for the weekend. Logan would love to see his friends again.

That would be great. I’ll ask Roman and Remus.

***

Janus parked his car outside a small pale blue house with a wrap around porch. Roman and Remus shot out of the car. “LOGAN!” A small boy with square shaped glasses jumped down the steps and ran. The boys all collided into a messy group hug, practically sobbing.

“I missed you guys so much,” Logan said.

“We’re never going to leave you again,” Remus said firmly.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Janus said, carrying two suitcases and wearing Virgil in a baby sling. The door of the house opened, and a tall man with messy blond hair, crooked round glasses, and freckles all over his face and arms stepped onto the porch. His face broke out into a grin as he caught sight of Janus, and he bounded down the steps. 

“Hi!” Janus smiled a bit.

“Hello, Patton.”

“Let me help you!” Patton took one of the suitcases from Janus and started up the steps. “Why don’t you three go play in the backyard?” Logan, Roman, and Remus nodded and ran around the house. Patton showed Janus Logan’s room, where Roman and Remus would sleep, and the guest room, where he had set up Virgil’s crib. Afterwards, they ended up in the kitchen. Patton held Virgil, the small child hugging the doctor tightly.

“Thank you again for this. I needed to get away.” Patton smiled.

“Of course! I’m glad to see the boys again.” And then the three small tornadoes blew into the kitchen. Logan held up a jar containing a cricket.

“Dad, look! Acheta domesticus!” Patton leaned closer to take a look.

“It’s a cricket!” Roman cheered.

“Can we eat it,” Remus asked. Logan glared at him.

“Of course not! We have to pin it to my board.” Remus grinned.

“That’s even better!” The boys blew out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs. Patton chuckled and shook his head. “I missed them,” he told Janus. “I miss Diana, too. I’m really, really sorry she’s gone.” Janus shook his head, a bitter smile on her face.

“Hey, you didn’t hit her car.” Patton nodded and looked at his feet. Janus sighed and closed his eyes. “I just wish I got to say goodbye, you know? Or that I knew what to do. I’ve got to take care of Roman and Remus now. I don’t have a clue what they need or what they want from me.” Janus fought the lump in his throat. “I don’t know what to do.” He turned his head and brushed the tears out of his eyes.

“Hey,” Patton said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t, either, when my ex and I had Logan. No one does. You just have to do what you think is right for them and hope that they don’t hate you for it in the end.” Janus laughed humorlessly.

“Thanks, that makes me feel great.” Patton laughed too.

“It’ll get easier,” he said. “I promise.” Janus rubbed his eyes.

“I wasn’t ready for any of this.”

“No one ever is.”

***

Janus woke up in the middle of the night with a dry mouth. He crept into the kitchen, peeking into Logan’s room on the way to check on the twins. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. After he had his drink, he found that he couldn’t sleep. He found a magazine in a rack by the recipe tins and sat down at the table. As he flipped through one, something fell out. Janus picked up the card. It was addressed to Dr. Patton Hart, and written in Diana’s handwriting. Against his better judgement, he opened and read it.

Dearest Patton,

First of all, thank you so much for everything you’ve done for my sons and I. You’ve been a better friend to me than anyone I’ve ever known. You stuck by me through everything with Oliver, and I can’t thank you enough or ever really repay you. That’s why I’m sorry to leave this way.

I have so much to say. There’s so much you don’t know about my past, my family, my hometown. I wish I could explain everything to you, but I don’t have the time or the space for that. What you really need to know is I’m taking my family and I’m going to live with my brother. I’m going to give you his phone number. If anything happens to me, please contact him. And whatever you do, don’t let Oliver take them from him.

I’m going to miss you, Patton. Give Logan my love.

Love,

Diana

Janus’s phone number was at the bottom. He couldn’t stop staring at the way she put a line through her sevens, or the way she still drew a heart over the dots on her i’s. And suddenly, months of pent up emotion suddenly burst forward, and he began sobbing. And then Patton’s arms were around him. Janus buried his face in Patton’s chest and felt tears falling onto the top of his head. “I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t s-sleep.”

“I couldn’t either.” Patton stood up and sniffled. Janus wiped away his tears. Patton looked at his feet, then at Janus, then at the ground again. “Do you.... Maybe.... Want to sleep in my room. With me. Tonight? I just-- you look so much like her and I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Patton exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry, that’s so weird.” Janus shook his head.

“I miss her, too,” he said. “You... You really don’t mind if I stay with you?” Patton shook his head. Janus took a deep breath, stood up, and grabbed Patton’s hand. “I.... I don’t want to be alone, either.” Patton smiled gratefully, and led Janus up to his room. They slid under Patton’s Steven Universe sheets. Janus cuddled close to him and rested his head on Patton’s chest. Patton wrapped his arms around Janus, and they fell asleep together.

-----

Taglist:

@kawaiikat54

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Love Birds-- Malcolm Bright x Reader

Prompt; none! :P

Warnings; bit of language as usual, shitty writing also as usual

Word Count; 1.6k

Notes; me? already obsessed with Prodigal Son? its more likely than you think

The young detective shoved his hands in his pockets and grimaced. The wind had picked up quite a bit since he left the office, and it was growing to be a rather cold day. Malcolm considered calling a taxi but decided against it. He was only a couple of blocks away from his apartment, and a walk would give him time to clear his head. He enjoyed his daily walks. It gave him a sense of routine in his abnormal life. His route stayed the same, never varied. A loud thud, followed by a muffled shout, halted his train of thought. Most of the people walking along the sidewalk ignored it, but curiosity got the better of Malcolm. The commotion came from a pet shop a few feet ahead of him. He stepped forward and peered through the large, front window. 

“Trevor, you fuckin’ idiot. We’ve talked about this! That’s a window, and you can’t fly through it.” The bird you cradled in your hands whistled and chirped before angrily flapping its wings. “You better not back talk me, young man! Or so help me, you’ll get no treats for the rest of the week,” you scolded. The parrot scaled your arm and settled onto your shoulder. “Oh, so now you’re gonna be all sweet and cuddly,” you huffed. 

“Uh-oh. Look out,” Trevor chirped. You glanced over to see a man standing outside the shop, watching you intently. You gave him a sheepish smile and waved before quickly busying yourself. You silently prayed that he couldn’t hear you talking to the bird from outside. As you picked up a few items that Trevor had knocked over in his escape attempt, the bell over the door jingled. “Incoming!” You shushed the bird and called out the typical greeting.

“Welcome to Patty’s Pet Stop, how can I help you?” Your customer service smile faltered only slightly when you realized it was the man from moments earlier. As if he sensed your unease, he introduced himself.

“I’m Malcolm Bright, and I was just coming in to tell you that you’ve got a beautiful bird there.” He nodded towards Trevor, who started whistling in response. Malcolm grinned at the parrot’s reaction.

“Thanks! He’s a handful, though. Do you have one?” Malcolm glanced around the shop, eyeing the various birds for a moment.

“No, always wanted one as a kid, but I never actually got one.” He glanced at his watch. “I better get going. Nice meeting you...” he trailed off. You introduced yourself. Malcolm gave you a small nod and left the shop. 

As the days went on, Malcolm found himself thinking about your pet shop. His gaze would wander to the large window as he walked passed it on his way to and from work. He was curious, to say the least. There was something about you that intrigued him. Whenever you caught his gaze, you would wave at him. It soon turned into part of the routine. If he saw you working inside, the two of you would wave at each other. He would occasionally bump into you when you were clocking in or out, but you two never ever had any interactions outside of the pet shop. 

It was an average day for you. Started off fairly busy. The regular customers came in to pick up some pet food, treats, or a toy for their furry companions. As the clock drifted towards the afternoon, less and less customers came in. Though, you didn’t mind as much. The slow afternoons allowed you to read a book or scroll through various meme accounts online. When you heard the bell above the door jingle, you quickly put away your phone and said the typical greeting. The man who entered was wearing a comically large coat with the collar popped up and had a toboggan pulled low on his head. He had an odd vibe that you just couldn’t quite describe. You knew there was something wrong about him, but you just brushed it off. After all, you were living in New York City. This wouldn’t be the first time an unusual character came into the shop. The man grabbed a glittery mouse and tossed it onto the counter. You scanned the tag and gave him the total before asking, “Would you like me to put this in a bag for you?” He began rummaging through a pocket on the inside of his coat.

“Yeah and... uh... put the cash in there too.” The man pulled out a small gun, placing it on the counter. He angled himself so his body blocked it from the view of an outsider. It felt as if your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but your mouth was too dry. As you turned towards the cash register, you caught sight of a familiar face outside the window, but you quickly looked down.

Malcolm’s brows knit together. It was obvious that you were scared. From your tense body moments, to your wide eyes and shallow breaths, you were exhibiting all the classic signs of terror. The man standing in front of you drew most of Malcolm’s focus. He was behaving strangely. The man kept shifting his weight and glancing over his shoulder. He was impatient, waiting to get out of there as soon as he could. The pieces came together like a child’s puzzle in Malcolm’s mind. It wasn’t difficult for him to see what was going on. The shop was being robbed. 

Your head snapped up when the familiar jingle of the door’s bells echoed through the shop. Malcolm was texting on his phone, paying neither you nor the robber any attention. The man quickly put the gun back inside his coat. “Hey, (Y/N), has the-- uh-- bird seed I ordered come in yet?” Malcolm glanced up from his phone, and you stared at him with wide eyes. He raised a brow at you, then you finally caught on.

“Oh, yeah, it just came in earlier. It’s in the back if you would like me to run grab it for you.” 

“After we finish,” the robber huffed. You nodded and apologized. Malcolm kept his facade of being a regular customer, walking over to the parakeet enclosure. He kept asking you questions about them, which caused you to occasionally pause what you were doing and answer him. The robber finally grew aggravated, pulling the gun out once again. He waved it between the two of you. “Just shut up and give me the fuckin’ money!” You quickly handed the bag over, and the robber dashed out of the shop. The police arrived not long after, and they managed to track the guy down. After you gave them your statement, you approached Malcolm.

“I’m assuming you were the one who called the cops?” He gave you a lopsided grin. 

“Guilty as charged.” 

“Thanks. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up. Probably would’ve had a mental breakdown in the middle of that fiasco.” Malcolm scoffed and shook his head.

“Glad that didn’t happen. Things probably wouldn’t have worked out so well for you.” You leaned against the counter and crossed your arms.

“Since you’re my knight in shining armor for the day, I guess I owe you one.” Malcolm hummed, mulling it over. He motioned you to follow and led you over to the parakeet enclosure.

“What do you think about these little guys?” 

“They’re usually recommended as good beginner birds, but they’re pretty skittish at first. With good care, they can actually be quite loving and live for about ten years.” The detective nodded, eyeing the little birds. You noticed that there was one in particular that caught his attention. It was a small, yellow one, resting on the perch. You carefully reached into the enclosure and pulled it out. Malcolm gently pet it with his thumb, and his eyes lit up when it chirped at him. You caught sight of his shaking hands but didn’t mention it. “Do you want to hold her?” He held out his hands, and you carefully put the tiny creature in his care. As he cradled it, you noticed his hands stilled ever so slightly. “How about this... You take care of the needed supplies, and you can have her. On the house, as a thank you.”

“Stop by my apartment to help me set everything up and you’ve got yourself a deal.” Malcolm shifted his gaze from the parakeet to you. You smiled at him and agreed to the terms. You placed the bird in a temporary carrier while you showed Malcolm the things he needed for his new feathery friend. After he paid for everything, you closed up shop. 

When the two of you arrived at his apartment, you told him everything he needed to know about taking care of birds. Malcolm swore that he could put the cage stand together on his own, but after fifteen minutes of trial and error, he finally gave in to your help. The parakeet finally had its own little home, and you smiled as it hopped around. “Look at her, just a little ball of sunshine.”

“Sunshine,” Malcolm hummed, “That’s her name.” He grinned, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his creativity. “You know, since I don’t really know what I’m doing with caring for a bird, maybe you could stop by more often. Have a couple drinks, teach me about all things bird related.”

“As in, going on a date?”

“Depends on what your answer would be,” he quipped with a smirk. 

“In that case, I’d love to.”

~*~*~

Permanent Tag List;

@blitchen​

@blitchen-fics​

[ghostmartyr]

how a life can move from the darkness [10/?]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

Summary: Two drug addicts (Eren and Historia) meet in group and decide to be roommates to make their  living situation slightly less weird. From there we do the slow burn  found family dance mixed in with the struggles and agonies of recovery. Heavy on friendship feels, especially EMA. Eventual yumikuri.

“How do you keep people from turning into new addictions?”

Eren never liked group.

Being soaked to the bone and listening to every single drip of water adding to the puddle under his chair while he tried to towel himself off without making a scene didn’t do anything to make the feeling go away. His sneakers were soggy masses of sponge glued to his socks. His jacket was in a useless, sodden heap under the cookie table.

Historia wasn’t doing much better. Worse, maybe, since she’d taken one of Petra’s towels with distracted obedience before bringing her real focus to powering her way through as much therapy as she could in as little time as possible. Her towel was slung over her shoulders like a limp ferret.

Petra had a collection by the door for rainy days. Just in case. No one else had taken one.

Eren should have grabbed more, but he was in his squeaky plastic chair, and habit said he wasn’t allowed to leave the squeaky plastic chair until he’d sat still in it long enough to wonder if the car crash had killed him and this was what he was stuck with for the rest of ever.

He didn’t like group.

He liked Petra, and her calm, steady tone when her pen clacked against her clipboard and she asked if anyone wanted to start them out. He liked the few seconds he wasn’t thinking about the water dripping down his neck and under his shirt. Then the work started, and he had to figure out words for wanting to break his body into pieces until he came back right.

All the jagged edges chafed and reminded. Petra wasn’t the one who would take that away.

But she made it easier to push the pieces back into place. And to figure out where that place even was.

So when Historia asked her question, watching Petra with the feverish concentration that said it was the first and only thing she ever should have asked when she found out she wanted better, and Petra’s eyes shot to Eren, he sat up straight and listened. His shoes squelched on the floor. His eyes were probably just as hungry.

“It is very easy to displace addictive tendencies,” Petra started. “I won’t count the number of you who take smoke breaks after this, but I think we can all agree that when something has consumed so much of our life, walking away and leaving that hole is almost impossible. Maybe we’ve kept from filling it up with the same poisons, but it’s there, and we’ve come to depend on it. We’ve rewired ourselves to want the pattern to keep going, even when it ruins everything.”

Hundreds of unanswered texts buzzed in Eren’s pocket. Dozens of dents pounded into his fists.

The fucking orange bottles.

He breathed through his nose. He answered his texts now. It was fine. If it wasn’t yet, he’d make it.

“A lot of the time, we don’t even notice. We’re so used to going through our life that way, and working so hard to keep away from our vices, that we completely miss that we’ve found a new one. Depressive episodes turn into somewhere that’s safe to stay as long as we aren’t on drugs.” Petra eyed Eren again. “Anger is a natural emotion, so there’s nothing strange about always feeling it. Finding a new place to put it becomes as much of a habit as anything else.”

Eren’s hands clamped compulsively on his towel. The threads caught in his fingernails the way dust on the baseball diamond got stuck under them after a long practice.

“Adding people into it makes a complicated thing even harder. Especially the people we’ve kept, who want us to be doing well. Someone like that turns into a beacon, not a person, so our relationships become strained.”

Historia interrupted and Eren was almost glad for it. She leaned forward in her chair while scattered raindrops fell from her head. “How do you stop that?” she asked.

Petra didn’t miss a beat. “Boundaries.”

Historia waited. The chair’s weight fell on its front legs. “What if it’s someone you don’t want boundaries with?”

Or someone who had a weird concept of what they were. Like a girl who showed up to make breakfast in someone else’s home, or a guy who had dinner regularly with his step-mother but not his brother.

The two people who understood the rules had never stepped out of the box Eren made for them, and it had made him crazy to need it.

“Then they’re even more important,” Petra said. She repositioned her clipboard on her lap, letting her pen roll to the edge and zoning in on Historia. “We all have people we want to be close to. Sometimes we want to share everything with them. We want them to be part of us so strongly that we lose track of who we are without them. Who we are stops mattering without them.”

She didn’t look at Eren again. All of her attention went to Historia, who had lost any color she had left in her skin. Eren didn’t think she’d blinked the whole conversation. He wasn’t sure he had, either.

“No one can make it through the world alone, but we’re still individuals. Who you are,” Petra said, turning to the whole circle, “matters beyond who you are connected to. Healthy relationships have everyone involved remembering that. For people who are just now rediscovering who they are, the obvious danger is losing yourself in the high of something new and wonderful.

“So you find your boundaries. Yours and theirs. Focus on where you begin and where you end, and learn where to find them. Then, you work together to discover how you fit.” Petra settled back, smiling her easy, gentle smile that promised help. “Addiction drives us to lose ourselves in whatever will take us. Moving forward is always about reclaiming, or gaining more of yourself. You want to build relationships that make that easier, not harder. If the relationship itself is hindering that, you know there’s a problem, and, well.”

Comfort. It shone straight out of her. That was what made Petra worth listening to even when she said the stupid thing that stupid people had been telling Eren even before he downed his first pill. She believed it. She believed deep down that all the broken people she talked to would be okay. “There is a saying about that being the first step to recovery.”

----

By the time Petra recruited Eren to dump the soaked towels back in the car, it was no longer raining, and he could hold his jacket near him without feeling like he was holding Benjamin.

They hadn’t gotten off the relationship kick. Daz had managed to adopt the cat that lived in his drug dealer’s alley. Samuel, who didn’t have a leg to be broken, was wondering about when the right time was to bring up why he wasn’t barhopping with his new coworkers.

Eren had only mentioned Zeke once. When that was too many, he forced through how he only had Mikasa and Armin at all because they’d been better than anyone had the right to expect. He’d earned the circle a reminder of how they didn’t get to choose how the world around perceived them. Historia’s whole body had flinched, but by that point the embarrassment and past guilt was more choking than any present guilt.

More to work on.

“Do either of you drive?” Petra asked, opening her trunk. “You didn’t have to walk here in the rain.”

“We don’t have a car,” Eren said.

She shoved several beds of blankets and a sandbag to the side to make room for the pile Eren and Historia had created after helping out with drying the floor they’d soaked. “Uber works, too.”

“It isn’t a long walk.”

Petra never made sudden stops. She flowed into her movements, even stillness. Annie and Mikasa moved the same way. Years of training in something. Petra smoothed out her shirt and considered him. “Can you drive?” she asked.

Wet tires rolled across the parking lot, smearing puddles and keeping the damp silence from sticking to anything.

“Yeah,” Eren said. “I can drive. I’m the one driving half of Zeke’s team to parties after games.”

“Even though you don’t own a car?”

“It’s Zeke’s car,” Eren said.

Petra took the towels from his stiff arms and tossed them easily into her car. She watched him throughout the movement, and Eren wanted to hate, the way he hated himself and Zeke and anyone who tried to give a damn about him, but the hook about patterns and anger was too fresh to pick at and he could hear his heart in his ears with the steady thump that didn’t belong to thrown tennis balls against a wall they belonged to a body hitting a mat or a windshield.

The cold didn’t feel so cold. The outside of his skin matched.

“He lets you drive,” Petra said, with Frieda’s gentleness.

Eren nodded.

Petra knew the thin details.

“He’s your brother on your father’s side, isn’t he?”

“Right.”

Petra knew more about everything else in Eren’s life, because she was too good and too responsible to zone out during group and forget who the people she was helping even were. She was the one who had Eren thinking to count how many times he brought up his brother. She didn’t barrel in without consideration. She asked, “Have you ever talked to him about what happened?”

Eren froze up. Working his jaw felt like bending steel. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Petra carefully patted the disorganized clump of towels into a corner and smiled back at him. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” She stood up straight and squeezed his shoulder. Eren, in a way he hadn’t felt for weeks, had trouble meeting her eyes.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she said. “You just seem to be looking for something more from him, and…” She paused, and Eren was back in his chair for the first time. “No one likes being vulnerable, but having someone to share it with can be very rewarding. That’s all. You still get to pick if you want that or not.”

“I don’t,” Eren said. Like they were the only words available. He sounded like the small kid Zeke would actually try with for a painful second.

“That’s fine,” Petra said. In another place, if he were a different person, her step forward probably would have made for an okay hug. She kept smiling at him, and he couldn’t make the corners of his mouth do anything. “But being able to go somewhere without the weather getting in your way would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

Droplets of water were still spilling out of his bangs, and all of his shrugs dampened his chin. Out of everything she’d said, that was the easiest thing of the day to nod to.

----

Somewhere, Eren had stopped slamming doors. Not when Mikasa came to stay with them. Not when his dad asked him, speaking in the tolerant tone that said Eren was misbehaving and it was expected, to be kinder to his home. Maybe when the therapist told him he should find less destructive outlets and some words had slipped in through the drugs and screaming at her. Maybe when he shared a room with Reiner, who jumped at every unexpected noise.

Somewhere. Close to when he moved back with his mom and put one last step of trying in before giving up and whaling on the walls.

Somewhere, he’d put a lid on himself, and steaming mad, he could walk through a door and close it like what Armin called a civilized member of society.

He could leave a family dinner without exploding. He could tromp the cleats he’d never asked for back through his front door without giving anyone a reason to think there was something wrong.

Everyone in his apartment, being Ymir and Historia, was too asleep to look up and see the reasons written all over his face. They probably appreciated his self-control. Eren would have appreciated Historia being awake. Not at the cost of Ymir being awake. But the heat in his chest wanted to be screamed if it couldn’t be thrown out into pieces of the building, and he was starting to need someone to listen when the rage hit.

Other good habits. Always needing someone else. He couldn’t just fix himself and keep everyone out of it. Not that he ever could.

The bitterness was hard to keep, with Historia and Ymir on the couch, trying to fuse themselves permanently together in their sleep. An empty pizza box was strewn on the floor by their feet.

Eren slouched over to Benjamin’s tank and sunk to the floor. Unreasonably jealous and stupid. Dinner with them would have been a better kind of weird. A kind of weird that belonged.

Better than walking out into the deep night air and having his mom squish him into a hug that took away all the cold rage that had spent an hour and years building. “Eren,” she’d said, voice alive with good humor, “you do have to tell him at some point that you want things to change. Or of course they won’t.”

She’d let go, and taken all of the comfort with her. Leaving him with him.

“Eren?”

Eren’s head whipped to the couch. Drowsy blue eyes peered at him from over Ymir’s shirt.

“Yeah. Hey.”

Historia shifted, carefully tucking her head under Ymir’s chin without disrupting her snuffled snores. “How was dinner?” she asked blearily.

She should have stayed asleep. The frustration and Zeke had expanded into his throat and waited through every mouthful to pop, held off by his mom and the enforced calm of trying not to do this to everyone who put up with him ever week, still buzzing under his skin and making sitting still hurt, even with Benjamin’s soothing tank noises so close, and—

Zeke had nodded his customary goodbye, and Eren had nodded back, not saying anything.

The balloon of anger deflated. “The way it always is,” Eren said.

Historia watched him, far away from his problems in the safety of Ymir’s arms bruising her ribs.

“She can’t always be right!” Eren remembered shouting. Four, and five, and eight, and ten, and the injustice of his mom knowing more about the world than he did being flung into the ears of anyone who would listen.

Armin and Mikasa. Mostly.

His dad used to listen. He would listen, and his glasses would glint in the lamplight—the way Zeke’s still did—and he would say, too calmly to possibly understand, “You accuse Armin of that sin often enough.”

Their dad hadn’t known what to do with Zeke either. It was always his mom making things work. Never Zeke. Never his dad. Never Eren.

Watching Historia, whose forehead was starting to fold together with a concern Ymir usually kept her too calm to feel, the question slipped out without a thought.

“What’s having a sister like?”

Concern popped into confusion. “Probably like having a brother?”

The perplexed blankness on Historia’s face didn’t do much for the leftover bristles in Eren’s shoulders. He shrugged without following up with anything helpful. Wondering if he should have even bothered asking. Historia and Frieda were their own complicated. Normal siblings didn’t bring over ice cream to hide that they were watching their baby sister sleep because they were afraid of her dying.

“If you texted her more often, she’d probably back off on that. Or if you talked to her at all.”

He was used to Historia getting it. He was used to Historia being like him. Even if it wasn’t the same at all. He was used to watching his brother keep his hands off everything Eren did unless he had an explicit invitation, and Historia was used to letting her sister believe that her most extreme fussing was a secret. Loving Frieda enough to stay alive for her hadn’t made them closer. It was just one more thing Historia didn’t talk to her about.

Frieda showed up to fill the silence anyway.

“…Do you mean,” Historia asked, “what it’s supposed to be like?”

Eren nodded stiffly.

Historia was quiet so long Eren wondered if that was the end of it. Or if Ymir would wake up and throw her dysfunction into the mix.

She snored away, relaxed enough to make Eren feel like he was intruding in his own living room, and Historia spoke. Slowly. Not looking at him, and not seeing the floor her gaze had stopped at.

“It’s like they’re safe,” she said. His ears strained to catch the words. “They don’t know all of you, and you don’t know all of them, but they decide you belong, because they have a piece of you inside of them. No matter what happens, you’re part of them, so whoever you are is allowed.”

Historia refocused on him. Uncertain, but present. Awake and nudging herself back into the crook of Ymir’s neck, prompting a sleepy, muffled squeak that Ymir would hate Eren hearing. Historia kept going, and he kept listening.

“When she found out what I did…” Historia stopped. Her eyes shut. “Ymir said that it only made sense to cut out family who called themselves that without really being it.” Her eyes opened, and inexplicably, she smiled. “It was the worst thing anyone had ever said to me about him.”

“She was right,” Eren said flatly.

“Yeah.” Historia, nestled comfortably in Ymir’s death grip, added, like she was reading something off their grocery list, “I think that’s when I started falling in love with her.”

Historia was the only person he knew who made things like that sound real. Like Armin when he was tripping through tanbark with a new library book, talking about things neither of them had ever seen. Without the sparkle. Just a weird truth that was never going to be anything else.

Eren swallowed down the limp, rubbery balloon of bristling rage, and let the ground come back to him.

“My mom says I have to tell him I want things to be different for them to be,” he said. He didn’t point out that no one ever had to tell Zeke anything about scheduling games, or filling team rosters, or booking rooms in pizza parlors for parties he didn’t even like.

He’d done that in group, with water dripping down from his ears loudly enough to disguise the grate of the whining.

“You could invite him to lunch,” Historia said, void of inflection.

“Dinner’s weird enough.”

They fed the silence together for a bit. The same waiting cluelessness they’d shared before he cared she was a person. A little less quietly than everything else, Historia said, “I still can’t talk to Frieda.”

“She’d like hearing what you said before,” Eren said. “You could just say that once in a while.”

Historia pressed her head into Ymir’s chest. “I think every time we talk I remind her of everything that went wrong.” The frown lines in her forehead shaded in. “She wants me to forget even though she can’t. I can’t think of anything to say that would stop that.”

Eren fiddled with his shoelaces, scuffed with baseball dust. Frieda’s face—too much like Historia’s, too much like his mom’s, too much like Ymir’s—carried all those memories with her every time she walked through the door. The haze of hot chocolate brought it out even when she wouldn’t.

“Mom said,” Eren said, prodding the knot his cleats wouldn’t let go of, “the reason things were never okay with Dad and Zeke was because Dad couldn’t think of a way to fix things.” He ripped the knot free. “So he just went forward without trying. Zeke never got over it. There wasn’t ever a real reason for him to.”

A million and one scenes could play out from their childhoods, over and over, of Eren and Zeke, big brother and little brother, mother and step-mom ruffling their heads, and Dad wouldn’t ever fit right.

He was only the missing piece to the smaller version.

“They look alike,” he said suddenly. “I don’t look anything like him, but Zeke looks like my—our dad. A lot. More when he still had a beard. He started shaving after rehab.” Eren kicked off his cleats, rolling them towards the front door. “I don’t know why he never did that before. He hated it whenever someone said something about them looking alike. Any time someone brought Dad up around him, that was all they ever talked about. He hated it. He hated him.”

“…Did you?” Historia asked.

“No.” Not once. “I had a good dad.”

One Zeke had never wanted and wouldn’t ever know.

Eren could feel it. The thing, way beyond the broken leg and hate. The thing that said there weren’t enough pills in the bottle his mom picked up for him. The bottomless loss that people kept thinking Zeke could understand when he never would. Pain.

He dug his palms into his eyes and willed the tears away before they could force him into the kind of sobs that Ymir wouldn’t be able to sleep through. His hands felt like sandpaper over his cheeks.

The couch creaked, and through the spots and blur, Eren could see Historia switching her perch from Ymir to the edge. She kept one of Ymir’s hands, holding it to her neck like she was expecting a noose around her throat.

“Frieda had a good father too,” she said softly. “He’s not what made us family. She is. He’s just why we met.”

Eren’s fingers threaded through his hair. Like his mom had earlier, when she pulled at his ear and told him growing out his hair wouldn’t grow him out of making his life harder than it had to be. Or like Zeke did the first time he helped him put on a helmet. “When did Frieda decide on you?”

Historia toyed with Ymir’s hand, and hesitated just enough for Eren to catch the crack in her voice. “When she found out about me.”

Fresh tears sprouted, and Eren coughed in choked surprise. “Yeah,” he said, “that sounds like her.”

“Yeah.”

Maybe Eren should have headed to the kitchen and started the hot chocolate before sitting down under Benjamin. The impulse to get up and do that now instead of letting the suffocating emotion in any deeper ran as thick as the embarrassing thought that Frieda herself would have been even more of a comfort.

Ymir snorted, making both of them jump. Somehow that pulled Historia even deeper into her arms. Eren didn’t think either of them minded, even if Historia did squeak at the proximity change. Or maybe Ymir whispering her name after was what did it.

They were a million times worse than Hannah and Franz ever were. It should have been disgusting. Ymir being so happy was still weird. Then Historia being happy at all was a relief, and something in all of it evened out.

“So when are you gonna tell Ymir you’ve decided on her?” he asked her.

“When I establish my personal boundaries,” Historia mumbled into Ymir.

They hadn’t bothered leaving many lights on for their nap on the couch together, but that Ymir glow never needed much help. Eren could feel a smile on his face twitching to match the shine in hers.

“She’d probably say yes if you asked her out.”

“Mm.”

“Holding off this long starts to make you look scared.”

Ruffled, the parts of Historia not completely buried in Ymir leveled an unimpressed scowl at Eren that mostly said he was right. “I’m working on it,” she said frostily. “Like you’re working on talking to your brother.”

Eren clapped his mouth shut and returned the scowl through the superior glint in Historia’s eyes.

Somehow, it felt like one of his lighter ones.

----

“See? Right there?”

Movies used to be a weekly thing for them. New ones. In theaters. They’d sneak in their own candy, find the thing no one else was watching, and jump into the front row. They’d done it so many times the staff at five different theaters knew them by name.

“I… no?”

There were things about it Eren had forgotten.

“You—what?” Armin blinked several times, looking between his phone and Eren. He enlarged the blur. “What about now?”

He was vibrating, flush with indignation and exclamation points in his eyes.

He was an Armin Eren hadn’t seen in over a year, and Eren would have gotten thrown out of a hundred more movies to find him again.

That didn’t do anything to clear up what it was Armin thought was worth getting thrown out of this first one. Eren leaned in closer to the phone to humor him. The black on black blur, helped by Armin’s fingers one more time, leaned in back, turning into a clump of pixels.

“It’s… a backpack?”

“Yes!”

Eren sat back in their bench, basking in the warmth of Armin’s enthusiasm, and strangling the lingering guilt trying to creep up when it felt too much like home. “Is the backpack important?”

“No, it’s what’s in the backpack—look, there!”

The blur stayed a blur.

Armin stayed vibrating, bright as a star.

“I don’t see it,” Eren said.

Armin’s finger poked the center of the blur. “It’s a power cord,” he said.

Eren tilted his head to the side. A small sliver of shadow, just barely caught in the picture, was directly under Armin’s fingernail. Enough to maybe be something, and Armin, who’d noticed enough to pull out his phone and snap off a dozen pictures, said it was something. There wasn’t much room for argument.

“They were running around the house for an hour,” Armin said. “The room they barricaded themselves in had five outlets. The jump into the lake messed up most of their phones, but he didn’t swim. His just ran out of battery, but they didn’t edit out his power cord from his backpack! You can see it.”

Armin furiously unzoomed from the image, bringing back the full, grainy shot of the giant screen they’d been sitting six feet away from. “They didn’t even try to hide it. And it wasn’t on purpose! This is right after they dumped all their bags out on the table to see what they had, and the power cord wasn’t there. Look—” Armin flicked away from the photo and on to a video of the main character swinging his backpack on.

Eren, obediently, looked.

The black backpack swung by the light, the camera angle switched, switched back, and—

A power cord.

“That’s pretty bad,” Eren said, looking at the tiny set of pixels no one but Armin was going to notice before a home release.

“It’s ridiculous,” Armin said. He settled back in the bench, frowning furiously at the small video that had yanked them out of their seats.

Eren didn’t know how he’d forgotten this part. He remembered him, and Armin, and usually Mikasa, and the candy, and the sticky floors, and the way Armin’s eyes would light up when the previews started. He remembered excited plans to see whatever was on the posters in the hallways, and him and Mikasa standing back and letting Armin teach them everything there was to know about the thing they were about to watch.

He remembered it all being so normal he never even thought about remembering it.

Then Armin’s phone was going off in the front row, and he was buzzing more than it could, and a million hushed arguments with ushers played back in Eren’s head.

“Oh.”

Eren shook himself back, where Armin had stopped buzzing, and was looking at him. The voice inside that called that dangerous took a second for him to stamp out. Armin was great practice. Sometimes too great. “Oh?”

Armin, with the same uncertainty Eren could hear when he asked about seeing a movie, smiled, and pocketed his phone. “I don’t want you to feel strange about it,” he started, “but… you’re smiling again.”

In a move that made Eren glad Mikasa couldn’t make it, his hand went up to his mouth and checked. Instead of the deep etches the mirror usually caught, there were smooth, relaxed lines that perked up at the corners.

“Oh,” Eren repeated.

The bench dug into his jeans. Armin’s gentle, smiling hope was impossible to look at, and Eren’s ears were bleeding from the strain of that beam shining right on him.

“Sorry we didn’t get to see the end of the movie.”

“It’s fine.” Eren took a breath and told the truth. “I’d rather hang out with you anyway.”

Awkward. Unless Eren burned everything to the ground one more time, they’d have things fixed and perfect before he ever got used to it. Armin wasn’t awkward. Armin was what made all the fog in Eren’s head clear out.

Right now, they were both fog, and Armin’s arms wrapped around each other like snakes under his red face. “We—uh. Maybe it’s a bad time,” Armin said, “but since we’re talking about movies, I still have your DVD player.”

Oh.

Armin rushed through the next words. “You—I was borrowing it when—so it’s in my room. I know you and Historia don’t have a TV, so it’s probably not easy to watch things. I could bring it over, if you want? Or maybe, if you wanted, since there’s time now—”

“No.”

He could hear his heart beating louder than the word. Armin still shut up like he’d screamed it.

He wasn’t smiling anymore. It felt like a personal failure. Everything from his mouth down was made of boiling sludge that was more useless for explaining why, for saying sorry, for all the yelling he wouldn’t do, and Armin was sitting there doing nothing wrong.

Eren took a breath. Somehow.

“Some other time,” he said. Like a person.

“Sure,” Armin said. Like the bullet he dodged was inside him anyway.

Awkward had been better.

Eren didn’t want to be ‘like’ anything. He wanted to make it all the way back.

“What do you want to see next?”

Armin’s head jerked up from boring a hole in his knees. “Huh?”

“We didn’t get to finish the movie, and I don’t think they’ll let us back in,” Eren said, keeping his voice light and steady. “If this one’s a bust, what do you want to go see instead? We’ve still got an afternoon to kill.”

He didn’t have anyone to blame but himself for the cautious way Armin looked at him. Rabid animals bit. No one in their right mind wanted to stick their hand through the bars, and Armin was Armin. He had every kind of sense and several more besides.

Just not the one that kept him away from Eren. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Armin popped off the bench. “If we hurry, downtown is screening Rear Window this week?”

It took a second. Eren’s footing felt as slow as his brain, fragments of speech catching up to him like scooped shells out of a tide pool. He could taste the salt before any kind of response skittered out of his mouth. “Again?” he asked, the tease hollow but close enough to count. So he counted it. “How many times have you seen that?”

The sun came out on Armin’s face, too open to hide the relief backing his smile. “It’s a classic, Eren.”

“It’s why Mom took our telescope away.” Easier. Less hollow.

More like how things were meant to be. In that moment, watching Armin’s eyes glitter and his pace pick up until he was practically skipping, it was like they’d never been anything else at all.

The goal wasn’t supposed to be to run back to exactly how things were. Eren wasn’t an idiot. He knew that wouldn’t happen. Even when Historia figured her stuff out and didn’t want him interrupting couch time anymore, things weren’t going to bounce back to him and Armin lying upside down on their cramped balcony while they argued over which movies got to stay on their list.

But running down the sidewalk at Armin’s heels, chasing down the rest of their afternoon, Eren felt like some limb he’d been missing had snapped back into place.

[next]

[lavenderlattaes]

let’s get married. | kim seokjin

⇒ summary: it’s no secret to your friends that sneaking into wedding receptions for the buffet table has been an ongoing tradition between you and your best friend, kim seokjin. but what happens when your friends get engaged? you become their wedding planners. and, let’s also not forget about the fact that you’re both in love with each other, so maybe all the wedding planning has gotten the best of you.

⇒ [ friends to lovers! au, wedding crashers turned wedding planners! au ]

⇒ pairing: kim seokjin x female reader

⇒ word count: 11.4k words

⇒ genre: fluff

⇒ warnings: like, one or two swear words and an excessive use of the word stupid/dumb, just me being absolutely in love w kim seokjin so this is me imagining what it would be like to end up w him lmao (send help) this may or may not be a slow burn but idk how slow burn fics work so

⇒ note: hello and after an entire decade (lol jk) i am back w a bts fic! I feel like i’ve only been writing for txt lately so here’s a long ass seokjin fic for you guys! I’m a lil bit rusty so please forgive me in advance. without further ado, ignore mistakes bc im a bit of a blind bat and enjoy!  ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

i.

“Saturday, 10 am, at the hotel near the publishing house,” Seokjin throws a pastel pink cocktail dress at you, and you groan at his actions, pushing the freshly dry-cleaned dress away as you directed your attention to a rerun of your latest drama that aired last night. Being an editor for a magazine had its perks, that’s for sure, but you absolutely abhorred the times when you’d have to work overtime and miss your dramas.

“Who’s getting married?” You ask, popping popcorn in your mouth as your roommate slash best friend, Kim Seokjin plops down onto the couch beside you, grabbing a handful of popcorn for himself.

“I don’t know them personally of course, but I heard they’re Jeongguk’s friends from college,” Seokjin shrugs and you choke on your popcorn.

Seokjin turns to you worried, and pats your back comfortingly as you take exaggerated coughs. When he realizes this, he rolls his eyes and goes back to looking at the tv.

“Jeongguk’s friends?! So they’re his age?” You sputter and Seokjin can merely sigh. “Unfortunately, so. We’re definitely gonna end up alone with about fifty cats.” You snort at his statement, folding your legs underneath you.

“Firstly, we’re not that old. We’re just older than Gguk by what, five years? And secondly, you’re not gonna end up alone because you have me, and you don’t even have a single cat.” You point out the facts and Seokjin looks up in thought before shrugging.

“You’re right. Besides, I’m too good looking to end up alone.” He proudly states. You can only nod in agreement.

“What are they having for their lunch?” You return the topic to the next wedding you’ll be crashing and Seokjin shrugs.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Jeongguk because I think he knows.” 

Most of the time, you didn’t exactly get caught when you pretended to be on the guest list and act like you knew the couple despite having a few loose ends; you were just that much of good actors. You’ve known Seokjin all throughout college and you know how good he is at acting too, despite being a business major. He once told you that if it were up to him, he wouldn’t even be taking up business if he didn’t have to inherit his dad’s company. He wanted to be an actor, or at least have any job related to the field. 

You hum in response. “Can’t believe kids younger than us are actually getting married before us,” Seokjin speaks up after a while, and you snort. He still hasn’t moved on from it, apparently.

“You’re gonna find someone to marry soon,” you reassure your best friend and he only shrugs.

It’s the day of the wedding, and you’ve both managed to sneak in — again, and you’re both enjoying the food by the buffet table while couples danced in the middle.

“Hyung!” You hear a familiar voice and both you and Seokjin stop munching on the chocolate truffles to find the owner of the voice.

It’s Jeon Jeongguk.

He grins mischievously at the both of you, and gives you a hug as he squeezes himself in between you both. You feed him a truffle and he gladly accepts, his cheeks puffing out as he chews on the sweet dessert happily.

He swallows the bits of the truffle before turning to Seokjin. “I see you’ve managed to sneak yourselves in, again.” Jeongguk laughs and you let out a scoff. “It was easier this time, actually. Turns out Jin actually somewhat knows the groom so we managed to play it cool with a few facts about him,” you shrug and Jeongguk raises an eyebrow.

“Really?” He looks at Seokjin in disbelief and the older boy grins proudly. “You have so little faith in your hyung, you know? You underestimate me,” he pats the younger boy on the back and Jeongguk shakes his head, a twinkle in his eye.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you guys would end up together,” he comments and you and Seokjin both choke on your food as Jeongguk giggles, snatching another truffle and stuffing it in his mouth.

“See you later, guys!” he turns around and runs back to the dance floor where he starts breaking out into dance when he sees his friends. You turn around fully, watching Jeongguk in the middle, when your eyes flit over to the couple. You observe the gentle way the groom held onto the bride’s waist as they danced, the way he looked at her with so much love, and you can’t help but sigh.

Seokjin turns around after swallowing his fifth - or probably sixth - cream puff, glancing at you before following your line of sight. “What’s with the sigh, dork?” He bumps his shoulder with yours and you break out of your trance, turning to look at him. He looks at you curiously and you break eye contact to take a sip of your wine.

“Am I ever going to get married? I’m almost 30 and I haven’t dated anyone since college,” you state worriedly, and Seokjin stares at you long enough to see if you were joking or not.

You weren’t.

When you don’t hear a reply from your best friend, you turn back to look at him again. “You okay?” You ask and Seokjin looks at you for a while longer before shaking his head. “You’re gonna find someone who’s gonna love you for you, I’m sure of that.” He ends up saying and gives you a close lipped smile. You chuckle and sip on your wine again. Seokjin follows your movements before turning back to the floor where Jeongguk was already leading a train with his other college buddy, Kim Yugyeom. 

With his own glass of wine just close to his lips, Seokjin whispers, “If you don’t find anyone by then, you’ll have me, at least.” 

ii.

“Hey, how was the business trip?” You greet from your spot on the couch, typing on your laptop as you hear the door open. Seokjin’s suitcases land on the ground with a soft thud. You soon feel his lips plant a small kiss on the top of your head before ruffling your hair.

“Tiring, but I think we got the investors to go with our proposal. We’re gonna find out by the end of week,” Seokjin finally speaks up, walking over to the kitchen where he grabs a bottle of water. You stop typing and decide that your article can wait until tomorrow. You close your laptop and stand up to grab some food in the cupboard, knowing all Seokjin needed after a long business trip was to watch movies and eat until the early hours of the morning.

“Let’s go out for some pizza,” Seokjin announces and you stop in your attempt to climb a chair and open the top cupboard. “Aren’t you tired? You just got back,” you ask him, and he shrugs. “I’m craving for pizza right now. Let’s just go out for dinner then come back.” 

You plop down on the chair you were supposed to stand on and pull your legs up. “Then we can just order in some pizza then,” you propose and Seokjin pouts at you. “I wanna go out, I’ve been so cooped up in offices and cars lately,” he whines. You stare at him and he just pushes his lips even more and you hate the fact that when he’s trying to be cute, you can’t resist him.

“Ah, whatever. Let me go get changed,” you stand up and Seokjin claps his hands triumphantly. “Tonight’s dinner is on me!” He calls after you and you laugh, climbing the stairs to your room. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” you shout back, waving a hand dismissively.

“I thought we were just going to have dinner?” You ask in confusion as Seokjin suddenly drives to the boardwalk after receiving a text. “What are we doing here?” The car comes to a stop and Seokjin looks at you. “Someone’s going to propose tonight, remember?” Your eyes widen in realization.

“Wait, Yoongi’s going to propose tonight?! I thought it was next week,” you mentally facepalm. Seokjin unbuckles his seatbelt and turns the car off. “Me too, but I got a text from Namjoon asking where we were. Apparently, we were supposed to help them set up hours ago,” he says and the both of you get out.

Shutting the car door, you run around to Seokjin’s side as you both hurriedly make your way to the beach. “Ugh, I feel so bad now. Yoongi’s proposing to my best friend and I was stupid enough to forget,” you sigh and Seokjin pats your shoulder. “We were both busy, so they’ll understand.” You both make it in time to see Namjoon asking your other friends to get into their positions. Hoseok notices the both of you approaching and laughs.

“Where have you guys been? Hopefully not at some wedding again,” Hoseok teases and Namjoon turns around to greet you both.

“You’ve got a wedding about to happen in a few months right here where you don’t have to actually sneak in and you don’t even show up on time?” He adds and the younger guys laugh.

“You think about food way too much,” Jimin pipes up and you both groan. “We were busy with work, don’t make us look that bad,” You whine and they all laugh. 

“Okay, okay. Y/N, you can take care of the lights, and Jin hyung, you can go give us the signal when Yoongi and Y/F/N walk past your hiding spot.” Namjoon instructs and you both nod, going over to your spots.

“Hey, when am I going to give the go signal?” Seokjin asks and Namjoon’s about to answer when Taehyung suddenly speaks up, “Guys, they’re almost here!” “Quick, hide!” Namjoon calls out and all of you get ready in your hiding spots. 

“Wait, wait-” Seokjin shuts up when all the lights go off and he can hear the sounds of footsteps approaching.

“Yoongi…” the soft voice of Y/F/N dies in the air and Seokjin can see their footsteps move past him.

“Y/F/N, we’ve been together since college. You’ve been my best friend for a longer time, and I’ve always known that it was always you,” Yoongi begins and Seokjin got so focused on Yoongi’s words - his friend is being so expressive right now, when did this happen? - that he forgot to give the go signal. The place was still dark and Yoongi was already down on his knee.

“Y/F/N, will you raise Min Holly with me and stay up writing songs with me? Will you make me the happiest man and marry me?”

It’s only then that Seokjin suddenly breaks out of his trance and panics, giving the go signal, just as you manage to realize what’s already going on and turn the lights on as Hoseok plays the music and Taehyung and Jeongguk start taking pictures, all a little too late. Y/F/N jumps in surprise at the sudden flash of lights and the music that started playing. Jimin plays the surprise video a little too late and Namjoon pops the confetti way too early.

In conclusion, you guys were terrible friends and ruined the perfect proposal Yoongi had planned in his head for weeks. Y/F/N looks around and despite the fact that for Yoongi it looked absolutely terrible, her eyes only saw how much Yoongi loves her. Her eyes started to water and she turned back to Yoongi, smiling down at Yoongi who had his head down, thinking that he probably ruined his chances of marrying the only girl he loves.

“Min Yoongi, look at me,” she whispers softly and all of you managed to tone down the chaotic mess you created. Hoseok turned the volume down a bit and Jeongguk started to film the moment instead, while Taehyung turned the flash off. 

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to go like this, I promise everything was carefully planned out, I- I don’t know what happened and I know it’s a mess but -”

“Yoongi.” Y/F/N giggles and Yoongi looks up at her. His eyes widen and his mouth is slightly agape as he sees tears in her eyes. “Yes.”

“Wait, what?” Yoongi tilts his head in confusion and your best friend lets out a watery chuckle. “I said yes, Yoongi. Yes, I’m going to raise Min Holly with you, yes, I’m going to stay up late and write songs with you, yes, I’m going to make you the happiest man. Yes, I’m going to marry you.” She finishes, and pulls Yoongi up to stand.

“Wait, are you serious?” Yoongi asks again and she hits his shoulder weakly. Her tears fall and she laughs, “Of course, you’re crazy for thinking I won’t spend the rest of my life with you. You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” she starts crying now and your tears start to well up with happiness for the couple. Yoongi slips the ring on her finger before pulling her into a tight hug. 

Seokjin is the first to clap and everyone follows, hoots and cheers coming from the younger boys. You start clapping too, wiping the tears away as you cheered for the engaged couple. When Yoongi and Y/F/N pull away from the hug, they turn to look around and all of you come out of your hiding spots to properly congratulate them.

You dash over to Y/F/N and she looks at you in surprise before pulling you in for a hug. “You’re part of this too?” she squeals and you chuckle. “Apparently,” you shrug your shoulders and hug her tighter. “I’m so happy for you and Yoongi,” you coo and she smiles as the two of you pull away from the hug.

“Alright, alright. Now, who messed up my proposal?” Yoongi calls out and the laughter dies down a bit as Seokjin sheepishly raises his hand up. Yoongi’s eyes widen.

“Hyung? I thought it would be Jeongguk or any of the maknaes!” Yoongi exclaims in disbelief and the younger boys start to protest.

“Hey, if you must know, I was the first to arrive here!” Jimin speaks up.

“I came right after Jimin did! I knew what to do too,” Taehyung pipes in.

“I’m in charge of taking pictures so I definitely wouldn’t be late! Besides, Seokjin hyung and Y/N almost didn’t make it because they forgot!” Jeongguk exposes the both of you and the couple turns to you.

You raise your hands up. “Hey, again, we were busy with work,” you try to reason and Yoongi waves his hand dismissively. Y/F/N giggles, nudging you playfully as you wrinkle your nose at her.

“You guys were probably eating at home again!” Yoongi accuses you both and you sputter out excuses.

“No, we weren’t!” “We went out for pizza because Seokjin didn’t want to order which means you’re lucky we were out and were just around the area!”

“Oh, so you guys went on a date?” Y/F/N raises an eyebrow and you stop trying to explain yourself as Seokjin stops talking as well.

Jimin pulls you to stand beside Seokjin and you almost stumble, but he manages to catch you and steadies you by the shoulders. Your friends all turn to look at the two of you with curious eyes.

“So,” Hoseok smirks. “Is there something we don’t know about you guys?” Namjoon asks. “Do you, maybe, I don’t know, wanna share something with us?” Hoseok adds.

“Are you guys dating?” Taehyung wastes no time in beating around the bush, causing yours and Seokjin’s eyes to widen.

“WHAT!? No, we’re not!” you both say at the same time and everyone breaks out into laughter. You start to fan yourself, your face heating up. Seokjin looks away, causing the guys to laugh even more, as his actions only expose his red ears.

“You guys seem pretty bothered by it,” Yoongi comments and you stop fanning as Seokjin faces them again.

Before you can say anything, Seokjin beats you to it. “There’s nothing going on, okay? We just went out for dinner. We were supposed to go home right after but then Namjoon reminded us about the surprise that we completely forgot about because again, we were busy with work, so that’s why we were late and I didn’t know when to give the signal and that’s how I messed up your proposal,” Seokjin explains.

The boys turn to look at each other, laughing lightly, and Seokjin stares at them as your eyes stay fixed on Y/F/N who was whispering something in Yoongi’s ear, giggling quietly. Yoongi nods and grins as his eyes glance at the two of you.

“Y/F/N and I have agreed on something,” Yoongi speaks up and everyone quiets down.

“To make up for tonight, the two of you have to help us with the wedding preparations.” Yoongi proclaims and your mouth drops open.

“Yah, why? I’m going to be really busy starting this month! Father’s going to hand over the company next year and there’s still so much to do!” Seokjin complains.

“And I have a lot of schedules set for this month! There’s so many deadlines to do!” You add in.

“Firstly, you guys are gonna have important roles at our wedding. Y/N, you’re obviously going to be my maid of honor. And Seokjin, didn’t you have a rock-paper-scissors battle with Hoseok for best man when I first told you guys that I was gonna propose?” Yoongi points out.

You both shut up.

“And secondly, who knows how to handle weddings the most than the two of you? You know what kind of food goes well together, right? You know all the best venues in Korea, and I’m sure you guys can take care of a lot of stuff, considering how you’re used to hectic lifestyles anyway,” Y/F/N adds.

Hoseok bursts out in laughter, making the others laugh as well as you chuckle weakly.

“I guess you’re right,” you give in and Seokjin scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I guess we can make our schedules work somehow.” Y/F/N claps her hands excitedly.

“Great! You guys are meeting up with us tomorrow, okay? Make time for us around 3-5 pm,” Y/F/N informs you and you turn to look at Seokjin. The guy can only shrug and offer you a small smile, making you grin at his actions.

Wedding crashers turned wedding planners, huh?

iii.

For the past two months, you and Seokjin have been meeting up with Y/F/N and Yoongi to help out with the upcoming wedding which was set to happen in three months. Which also meant that you hardly got to crash other weddings OR have marathons with each other.

“I’m going with Y/F/N to fit her wedding gown today,” you explain as Seokjin eyes you all dressed up early on a Saturday. He hands you your cup of coffee which was made just the way you liked it, not too sweet, not too bitter. You sit down across from him on the table as he eats a spoonful of cereal. “How about you? Any plans with Yoongi today?” you ask, before taking a sip of your coffee.

He plays with his spoon before putting it down, leaning back in his seat. “I’m supposed to go look for a suit with him too, but I have to go meet with some of the stockholders with Dad today. He really wants me to go with him but I’m not sure if I’ll make it on time so I told him to ask the other guys.” 

You nod and finish your coffee, standing up to bring it to the sink. “You go ahead, I’ll wash it for you,” Seokjin tells you and you grin.

“This is why I’ve always loved living with you,” you comment. “Don’t mention it,” he replies casually as you go back upstairs. You almost make it to your room when your exchange suddenly registers in your head. You pause and turn back around, debating if you should correct yourself or not. The reasonable part of yourself assures you that Seokjin thinks nothing of it anyway and you turn back around again.

Meanwhile, Seokjin’s thinking heavily about your words, even long after you’ve left the apartment.

“Hm, nope not that one,” you say, leaning back against the velvet cushions, as Y/F/N groans and goes back inside the dressing room. You laugh and she whines, “Why are you deciding for me? You’re not the one getting married.”

“Remember what you asked me two months ago? ‘Who knows how to handle weddings the most than the two of you?’ You have complete faith in me, don’t you, Y/F/N?” You tease her and she shuffles out of the dressing room again as you check a text message on your phone.

“This better be good, because we’ve been here for the past four - wow,” you’re cut off when you look up at her. The dress was beautiful and the fact that it perfectly embodied Y/F/N’s personality made it look stunning. It hugged her body in all the right places and it was both parts stylish and sophisticated. Wordlessly, you made her turn around and she obeyed you, feeling a little anxious at your reaction.

“What? Do you not like it?” Y/F/N finally asks and you look at her directly, tearing your eyes away from the gown. You give her your brightest smile. “You look beautiful. It’s this one, you should get this one.”

She lets out a relieved laugh, telling the boutique assistant she’ll get the gown. “That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said to me the whole day. I thought you were going to say something like, ‘wow, you clean up nicely, Y/F/N’,” she teases you and you chuck a pillow at her. “Whatever, go get changed. We have to look for your shoes.” She salutes playfully and goes back inside the dressing room.

Your phone beeps with a text and a smile makes its way onto your face when you read the text.

Partner in crime???: hey, how’s the wedding gown hunting going? 

“I’m so sorry, the meeting ran a little longer than I expected,” Seokjin rushes inside the store and is surprised to see all five of their friends there with Yoongi. They all turn to him and Taehyung greets him. “Hey, hyung! That’s okay, we just got here awhile ago, you’re just in time.”

Seokjin plops down beside Taehyung and Yoongi’s going through the racks of black tuxes. “Hey hyung, what if you wore a pink tux?” Jeongguk suggests playfully and Yoongi turns around to give him a look. 

The younger boy laughs and Yoongi sighs. “It’s not going to match the theme you know,” Yoongi comments, making the others laugh. “But what if you did wear pink? Would Y/F/N get mad?” Jimin pipes in. 

“She won’t,” Yoongi leans against a wall casually. “The fact that she said yes even after hyung destroyed my proposal is enough proof that she loves me a lot.” The boys all burst in laughter at that while Seokjin just leans back in defeat.

“Min Yoongi, go find your top choices and we’ll help you decide,” Seokjin says tiredly, and Yoongi grins at him. 

When Yoongi enters the dressing room to try on his top picks, Seokjin whips his phone out to text you. Almost immediately, you reply and Seokjin smiles at your response.

Wedding crasher buddy: all done! We found the perfect dress. How about you guys? And how did the meeting go?

“Hyung, do you seriously not have any feelings for Y/N? You’re smiling at your phone like an idiot,” Namjoon comments from across. Seokjin looks up and sees all of them looking at him.

“He has, but he’s being a coward about it,” Yoongi calls out, walking out of the dressing room all dressed up. They all turn to Yoongi and grin.

“We’re not being lazy but you should get that,” Hoseok comments. “Yeah, you look good in that,” Namjoon agrees. Yoongi nods. “I personally like this one the most too.” He goes back inside and the boys turn back to look at Seokjin.

“You’ve been living under one roof since you were freshmen in college, don’t you ever get jealous whenever she brings guys home?” Taehyung asks. 

Seokjin blinks. “Woah, what’s with the interrogation? And no, because she never brought any guy home.”

“Has she ever spent a night away from home? Like, slept over at someone else’s house after a party?” Jimin continues.

“Uh, we always go home together after parties and if she did sleep over at someone else’s house, it would always be at Y/F/N’s and I know because I drove her there every time,” Seokjin answers.

Without looking at each other, the boys all say, “They’re in love with each other.”

“I agree!” Yoongi shouts from the dressing room and Seokjin groans. “Min Yoongi just come out here, will you?”

On cue, the man in question walks out. “Do I tell them?” he smirks. The five all turn to look at each other. “Tell us what?”

“This was a stupid idea,” Seokjin groans, picking your wasted self up on Byun Baekhyun’s couch. You had insisted on attending the friendly and energetic boy’s party after stressing out on your finals the entire week. Now that it was all over, you wanted to relax. Your brain had enough of words and you claimed that Seokjin’s supposedly had enough of numbers as well.

‘It’ll be fun! I promise’, you told him prior to leaving the apartment, and Seokjin gave in. Apparently, your’s and Seokjin’s definition of fun weren’t the same. While Seokjin drank moderately and talked occasionally to his classmates and friends , you downed just about every cup of liquor you could get your hands on, and that also included having dance battles with Park Jaehyung from your creative writing class and trying to sing higher notes than Baekhyun’s best friend, Jongdae. 

So here you were, passed out on the couch and Seokjin could only hope you wouldn’t vomit the following day. He was expecting to carry you normally like he usually did when you stayed up late to study and fell asleep on the couch but he wasn’t expecting you to weigh like a huge rock boulder. You were heavy and maybe it was because you were completely passed out. He adjusts his hold on you and manages to somehow thank Baekhyun for the invitation before leaving.

He’s lucky enough to hail a taxi almost as soon as he steps out of Baekhyun’s apartment, and he manages to bring the two of you home all intact. The ride home was really peaceful - you were asleep in Seokjin’s arms and didn’t move much.

But when you arrived home and he had to put you down on your bed, that’s when things started to get a bit messy. “Hmm, it’s hot,” you mutter, and Seokjin sighs. He takes your socks and jacket off, and you’re left in your jeans and shirt. “Y/N, go get changed.” 

Your eyes open slightly, and you give him a lazy grin. “Help me out, Jinnie.”

Seokjin’s ears turn red. You hardly called him Jinnie and when you did, it always got him flustered. Your arms reach out for him and he pulls you up gently, but you wouldn’t budge. “Y/N. I need you to get up for me,” Seokjin begins gently, tugging on you. 

You weren’t doing anything and Seokjin’s been trying to get you out of bed for the past ten minutes. “Y/N,” Seokjin tries again for possibly the twentieth time that night. He tugs on your arms a bit harder. “Y/N, I swear to -” when he pulls on your arms with more force than intended, you suddenly sprang up, and your sudden action surprises Seokjin that he pulls on you even more. 

The action causes your lips to land messily on his and his eyes widen at your action. His arms go still at his sides while your hands rest on his shoulders. Truth be told, Seokjin’s always thought something like this was bound to happen between the two of you; you’re now in your third year in college and you’ve both been single ever since. And maybe because Seokjin was starting to fall for his best friend.

Your lips move slowly against his and what was he supposed to do? Ignore you? Seokjin kisses you back and his arm wounds around your waist, pulling you in closer. Seokjin was getting lightheaded and he’s stupid for not acting on his feelings sooner. He would’ve saved himself from going insane all these years. He pushes you back to lie down and he’s hovering above you. But then you suddenly fall asleep…?

Seokjin breaks the kiss and lets out a small laugh. He looks at your adorable state - eyes closed, lips pouting slightly, hair a mess and flushed cheeks. Seokjin decides to just turn the temperature down and tucks you in properly. He smiles and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

And Seokjin thought, that maybe it wasn’t such a stupid idea after all.

Until the following day came and you couldn’t remember anything except for Baekhyun’s other friend, Park Chanyeol. 

“You kissed Y/N?!” All five of them exclaimed while Yoongi just casually sipped his coffee. Seokjin throws his head back on the couch and groans.

“And you never told us?” Hoseok gapes at him. “He told me,” Yoongi points out. “But I was drunk when I told you that!” Seokjin exclaims and Yoongi shrugs, “Point taken.”

“So, you just never told Y/N you kissed her and just let her date Park Chanyeol until the end of your third year?!” Taehyung exclaims. “Hyung, why would you chicken out like that!” Jeongguk adds.

Seokjin sighs. “They just dated for the second semester guys, calm down. I couldn’t lose Y/N as a friend, okay?”

“But hyung, how could you just watch the girl you like date someone else?” Jimin asks sadly. Seokjin purses his lips before answering, “I guess it was better to see her happy with someone else than to risk her not looking me in the eyes. I don’t know if she felt the same way, and I just couldn’t risk it.”

“But don’t you think it might’ve made a difference if you tried? Knowing Y/N, I don’t think you’d lose her as a friend,” Namjoon joins in. Seokjin just looks down and checks the time on his phone. He’s greeted with a picture the two of you took after meeting up with Yoongi and Y/F/N two months ago. He hasn’t changed it ever since. You were pouting and Seokjin was giving you a weird look and on most days, it made him happy. Now, it just made him feel hopeless.

“Well, we can’t change what already happened.”

You plop down in the corner booth of the cafe you frequented at while you were in college, exhausted from all the shopping and going around with Y/F/N. She sits down in front of you, equally exhausted. 

“I don’t understand why you didn’t just get a wedding planner, you dummy. It would’ve saved us all the trouble,” you breathe heavily. Y/F/N kicks you under the table. “Ow!”

“We’re talking about my special day, Y/N. I want it to be perfect and you’re the only I trust enough to be able to pull it off. Both you and Seokjin know us better than anyone else,” she points out. 

You sit up. “That is true.” She smiles and sits up as well. “Now, do you want anything? It’s my treat.”

Your eyes sparkle and she laughs. “The usual?” You nod, and she pats your head playfully before standing up to order for the both of you.

While waiting for her, you look outside the window and see couples left and right, going on dates. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand, sighing. You haven’t dated in so long, you’re sure you’ll end up alone. The first and last person you dated was Park Chanyeol, and it only lasted for one semester because he thought you were cheating on him with Seokjin. Besides, you didn’t really have much to talk about. 

You scoff at the memory. Seokjin didn’t even think of you as a woman. You’ve always been Y/N to him, his best friend whom he met the summer before college.

“What are you thinking about?” Y//F/N breaks your train of thought and you turn to look at her. She’s back with your order and you help her set everything on the table. She returns the tray before sitting back down in front of you.

You take a sip of your drink. “Just, how single and alone I’ve been since college…?” you offer a lame response and she rolls her eyes. “You haven’t been alone, Y/N. You’ve always had Seokjin.”

“Yeah, but I mean, romantically.” You explain and she shakes her head. “You have Seokjin.” Confused, you furrow your eyebrows at her. “What are you talking about?”

Y/F/N sighs and leans back in her seat. “You have Seokjin so you’re not alone and you’re not gonna end up alone, okay? I know what you’ve been thinking, that you’re not gonna end up marrying someone and you’re gonna die alone.”

You give her a look. “That’s a bit too much, don’t you think? The dying alone part,” you say. She smiles sadly at you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Y/F/N, don’t give me that look,” you inch further into your seat. She shakes her head at you. “You’re both so dense, you know that? Anyone with eyes and a common sense can tell how much you love each other. Except for the two of you, unfortunately.”

Sighing, you hold Y/F/N’s hands in yours. “I think you’re just tired, let’s get you home, yeah?” She rolls her eyes at you playfully. “I’ll leave you to figure it out on your own.”

Y/F/N opens the door to the apartment and inside you see all seven boys deeply immersed in a black and white film. “What’s up with them?” you whisper and Y/F/N snorts quietly. “I don’t know, let’s just go watch with them.” you nod and Y/F/N makes her way over to Yoongi. 

“Hey, you guys are here,” Yoongi greets and the boys all raise a hand in greeting, their eyes still focused on the film in front of them. You laugh at how in sync they are and plop down next to Seokjin. Out of impulse, he raises an arm to wrap around you and you cuddle closer to him.

“I’m tired, let’s all just sleep here,” you mutter, resting your head on his chest as he rubs your arm gently. “If they don’t kick us out,” Seokjin whispers into your head and you grin, nodding. Suddenly feeling sleepy from the warmth Seokjin was radiating, you chose to close your eyes instead of watching the film.

The next time you open your eyes, you’re facing the door to your closet and you realize you’re already in your own bed. You pout, because Yoongi and Y/F/N kicked everyone out for sure. You turn around and come face to face with Seokjin’s sleeping figure, soft snores leaving his lips.

A gentle smile crawls up your lips, and your finger reaches out to run along his face. You trace the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips, and count the lashes on his eyes. He looked so peaceful sleeping. It’s then that you realized how long it’s been since you last fell asleep next to Seokjin. It usually happened on really cold nights in the winter when you just needed that extra bit of warmth.

Your finger moves up to brush the hair out of his face when you suddenly remembered Y/F/N’s words from earlier that day. 

Anyone with eyes and a common sense can tell how much you love each other. 

You look at your best friend. Kim Seokjin understands you better than anyone else. Y/F/N understands you too, but Seokjin knows you like the back of his hand. He can read you like an open book and you could say the same for him. It’s always been like that. Ever since you both met way back in the summer before your first year in college (at a wedding you both crashed on your own for fun), you’ve been attached at the hip. Maybe it’s also why neither of you have been in long-lasting relationships. Seokjin dated like, one girl in your freshman year and you dated one guy in your third year in college. That was it. People either thought you were a couple or you were just too focused on your studies to actually date, but it was neither of those reasons. 

But if you knew Seokjin as much as you thought you did, why couldn’t you tell whether he actually loved you or not? 

As you’re approaching the buffet table, the alarms start to go off in your head. A guy around your age was hanging out by the table, munching on some cupcakes. He spots you and immediately straightens his posture, suddenly looking just a tad bit alarmed at your presence. Noting how he suddenly felt after seeing you, you calm down and approach the table.

“Excuse me,” you say calmly, and he moves to the side as you reach for a cupcake. 

From your peripheral, you can see him watching you. Deciding to take the risk since you weren’t going to lose anything anyway, you ask, “So, whose side are you on?” 

He blinks, once, twice, surprised at the sudden conversation starter. You glance at him before turning to fully face him. “The groom’s,” he answers you confidently and you nod, smirking.

“Me too,” you decide and you turn to face him. “Really? How come I’ve never seen you at previous events before?” He asks casually, giving you a suspicious look.

You take a bite of your cupcake before answering. “I studied in the U.S. and I flew in just yesterday for the wedding.”

He shrugs, accepting your answer. “My brother’s great friends with the groom,” the guy says and you look away, hiding your smile.

“Rule number 1. Don’t say stuff like that unless people ask. It blows your cover,” you say and turn to him, grinning.

“I- how did you-” 

“Seeing where we’re standing right now, I think we’re here for the same reason. I’m Y/N.” You extend your hand out for him and he looks at you in awe, before taking your hand in his.

He gives you a firm shake.

“I’m Seokjin.”

iv.

Stupid idea. Bad idea. Dumb idea.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair as you tried to find the energy and motivation to write an article about the rising new rookie group that was set to perform at the PlayStation Theatre in New York, just two months after their debut. But instead of going over the recording of your interview with the group, your mind was somewhere else. 

Just two days ago, you (somewhat) finally acknowledged that maybe you actually had feelings for your best friend. It didn’t help that apparently, everyone kept saying that they knew that the two of you were in love with each other. Except for the two of you. And ever since then, you’ve been ignoring Seokjin. Well, trying to.

Stupid idea. Bad idea. Dumb idea.

The wedding was set to happen in three months. Can’t you wait for the wedding to be over before you started avoiding Seokjin? Or maybe at least, until the month ended so you’d reason with the monthly pay for the rent, or something? 

Can’t you wait for a reasonable excuse before ignoring your best friend? 

Seokjin immediately knew something was up. From the moment he woke up in your bed and you weren’t there to poke fun at him, he knew something was up. He thinks maybe you found out how he felt and just wanted to stay away from him as much as possible. What he didn’t know was that you were just conflicted about your own feelings and didn’t even know how much his heart yearned for you.

He gave you your space, although not entirely. He still made your morning coffee for you, he still left the curtains open for you in the morning because you loved how the sunlight streamed in through the windows at 7 am, he still did little things for you. It was hard to get rid of doing those things for you, especially since he’s been doing that for years now.

Your phone beeps with a text and it’s Seokjin himself.

Partner in crime???: i’m going to check on the venue and decorations today, are you coming?

Despite everything that’s been going on between you two lately, Seokjin still kept things professional. You stare at your phone long and hard, when another text comes in.

Partner in crime???: it’s okay if you’re not coming, i can go alone. You must be busy.

You think about Yoongi and Y/F/N, who both entrusted you with the most special day of their life. You can’t let them down just because you’re clueless and lost about your feelings for your best friend.

You: I’m going, I’ll meet you there?

Partner in crime???: i’m downstairs.

Oh. 

Shutting your computer off, you grab your bag and exit your office.

“Oh! Noona, are you going somewhere?” Your intern, Kim Seungmin, asks when he passes by your office. You nod and he bows lightly. “Okay, I’ll just leave some papers on your desk, I’m getting them from Mr. Lee’s office right now.” 

“Thanks, Seungmin,” you smile at the young intern and he smiles back before going on his way. 

The sun is shining brightly when you step out of the office and Seokjin’s leaning against his car, scrolling through his phone. “Hey,” you call out and he looks up. He offers you an awkward smile and you smile back softly. He opens the car door for you and without looking at him, you get inside.

He soon follows and he starts the car right away. He drives away from the curb and out onto the main road, and you turn the music on to get rid of the awkward silence. You stop at a red light and Seokjin taps on the steering wheel softly.

You clear your throat and Seokjin turns to you. When your eyes meet, you turn away and face the window, causing him to focus back on the road instead. “I’ve already checked on the invites, and almost everyone has confirmed their attendance. I’m just waiting for a few more people.” 

“That’s great, all that’s left would be the food, if we finalize everything for the decor and venue today.” Seokjin replies and you nod. “We’ll be meeting up with Yoongi and Y/F/N for the food tasting tomorrow, right?” You ask.

“Yeah, we’ll just meet up with them at the restaurant.”

“Okay.” you reply.

Seokjin doesn’t say anything else after that.

v.

You’re almost done with the food tasting when Y/F/N puts her fork down and folds her arms. You pause and look at her. 

“Alright, what’s up with the two of you?” she wastes no time in beating around the bush, catching you both off-guard. 

“Yeah. We can practically feel the tension radiating off the both of you,” Yoongi comments. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” the both of you say and they give you looks. “We’ve known you both since college. We know something’s wrong,” Yoongi frowns. “Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

“No, we didn’t.” You say first and you can see Seokjin lean back in his seat tiredly. 

“Then why-” your phone rings and you take the call immediately, grateful for the interruption.

“Hello?” the three turn to look at you and your eyes widen. “Yes, what? Okay, I’ll be there, thank you.” You end the call and stand up. Seokjin stands up too and you turn to look at him.

“What happened?” Y/F/N asks. You break your gaze from Seokjin and turn to look at Y/F/N. “There’s been a problem with your flowers, I’m heading over to the flower shop to see what it is. Just finish up here, okay? Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure everything goes well.” You take Y/F/N’s hand in yours and give it a squeeze.

“I’m going with you,” Seokjin announces and you shake your head. “Stay with them, I can do it.” You insist but he just sighs. “You don’t have a car and I have one, we’ll get there faster,” he latches his hand onto your wrist and pulls you along with him.

“Uh, drive safe?” Yoongi suggests and Y/F/N lets out a laugh when you’ve both left. “What the hell was that?”

Yoongi smirks. “I think they’ve both figured it out, but they’re just missing a piece.” Y/F/N picks her fork back up and takes a bite out of the ice cream cake. “Hmm, this cake is good, but their tea is better,” she laughs and Yoongi stares at her.

“Babe, your jokes are-” Y/F/N pushes a finger to his lips. “I know I make no sense, but you should really try this cake,” she offers a slice and Yoongi rolls his eyes playfully before opening his mouth. He chews on the sweet dessert, nodding in agreement.

“Told you so.” she grins.

The bell above the flower shop door rings noisily, signalling your presence. “Hello?” You call out, stepping inside with Seokjin following behind you. A woman in her sixties comes out from the door behind the counter and you both give her a bow. She smiles and walks from around the counter.

“Hi, you’re Y/N, right?” she greets. “Yes, ma’am. What happened?” you ask and she sighs. “One of our gardeners got into a minor accident and another two have been called back to their hometowns for family emergencies. Given the lack of manpower right now, my grandson and I won’t be able to finish carrying out your order in time for the wedding. We’ve received a lot of orders lately, because so many people want to get married in spring. We’re really sorry because we wanted to arrange for your wedding as well but we probably won’t be able to do it.” 

You turn to look at Seokjin but he’s thinking deeply. “We can recommend a few other flower shops that would be able to do rush orders, if you want,” the woman suggests. “How hard is it to arrange flowers for a wedding?” Seokjin blurts out and you and the woman turn to him. 

“Well, it’s not that hard, but it’s a lot of work. Why do you ask?” the woman answers. “Maybe we can help out? Our friends really wanted this flower shop, because the groom has been buying flowers for the bride since they first started dating. Maybe you know them? Yoongi?” Seokjin replies.

A look of realization and recognition crosses the woman’s face. “Oh, Yoongi! Yes, he’s always bought bouquets here. He’s great friends with my grandson, Jisung. And oh my goodness, I apologize, I thought you were the ones getting married,” she chuckles, embarrassed. You and Seokjin laugh awkwardly.

“No, we’re just the wedding planners,” Seokjin answers. “Slash best man and maid of honor,” you add and Seokjin nods. 

The woman laughs in understanding. “Well, of course you can. But only if it’s not getting in the way of your own personal schedules. We’re trying to look around for people looking for a part-time job for spring break, so maybe we can find more help,” the woman answers.

“I can leave the office anytime as long as I don’t have any meetings to attend,” Seokjin says and you look at him. “I thought you were still busy this month? You’re replacing your dad in a few months.” Seokjin shrugs. “It’s fine. He knows I’m busy with Yoongi’s wedding so he’s kind of given me a break.”

“Okay, then. I’ve been kind of chill at work lately so I guess we could make it work?” You turn to the woman. Her eyes shine brightly. “Oh, that’s lovely! You’d really help us out?”

You smile and nod. “It’s the least we could do for you and for our friends. We just want their special day to be perfect.” 

The woman holds onto your hands and gives it a squeeze. “Of course, you must know how that feels, right? Wanting your special day to be perfect,” she glances at Seokjin and you both realize what she’s saying.

“Oh!” you wave your hands in front of you frantically. “Uh,” Seokjin says at the same time. “We, uh, we’re not exactly...dating,” you trail off.

The woman looks between you two and blinks. “Really? I thought you were even married.”

You turn to Seokjin and back at the woman. You purse your lips and shake your head slowly. The woman looks at the two of you again before giggling. “Ah, my bad. Sorry!”

You and Seokjin can only give her an awkward laugh in return.

vi.

“Tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” Seokjin starts a conversation and you hum in response, taking the used plates to the sink as he clears up the table. “I didn’t think we’d be capable of pulling it off, honestly,” you comment and he chuckles. The past three months went by so fast, you could hardly catch your breath. And how you managed to somewhat ignore Seokjin whilst continuing to work by his side for the wedding amazed you. 

“Yeah, me too.”

Neither of you say anything after that.

vii.

You’re holding back tears as you listen to Yoongi say his wedding vows. Yoongi’s standing in front of the altar, Y/F/N’s hands clasped in one as the other held the mic.

“Y/F/N, you’ve been there for me since the day I was late to music history and the only seat available was next to you. I was up the night before composing my shitty songs and you were kind enough to lend me your color coded notes with all those cute little borders and banners. I couldn’t even arrange my music sheets properly and here, this pretty girl was so organized to have her sheets arranged in a folder and her notes neatly written. You stayed up with me all the time, and you helped me out of my writing slump every time. Y/F/N, now that you’ve given me the honor to spend the rest of my life with you, I promise to be there for you always, like you always have been for me. I’ll write songs about you until the day I die and I’m going to make you laugh for as long as I can make stupid jokes. I don’t ever want to make your heart ache and if I break that promise, I’m giving you the rights to sabotage my compositions. That’s how much I love you,” Yoongi says, and everyone’s both laughing and crying by the time he’s finished, especially Y/F/N. 

You wipe your tears away and from across you, your eyes lock with Seokjin. He gives you a smile and you can only smile back at him, ignoring the way your heart sped up. Just a little bit.

The wedding ceremony soon ends and after taking the mandatory wedding photos, Seokjin leads everyone to the reception while you sit down on one of the church pews. 

“I don’t think I’ve sat down to talk to you in such a long time,” Namjoon speaks up from behind you and you turn around. He sits down beside you and you smile at him.

“I’ve been really busy, I guess.” He nods at your answer. 

“You should talk to him. Properly, I mean,” Namjoon corrects himself and you look at him. “What?”

“Hyung. You’re both running away from each other,” Namjoon continues. “You’re scared to face each other, because you don’t know what or how much you could lose.” Namjoon turns to face you.

“Just try talking to him about how you feel, Y/N. You’ve both been busy with the wedding so maybe you haven’t really had the time to think about your feelings, but I don’t think you need to think too deeply about it,” Namjoon begins.  “You met in the summer before college. You hit it off really well and the fact that you were lucky enough to have been accepted into the same college way before you even met made things even better. You both lived in the same apartment since your first year and until now, you still do. He makes you laugh, he understands you better than anyone else,” Namjoon pauses. You stay silent, and Namjoon decides to continue. “He loves you and you love him. What’s there to be afraid of?”

“Okay, in 3, 2, 1!” Y/F/N tosses her bouquet and all her bridesmaids giggle and move to the side, leaving you in the center. “Wait, what-” the bouquet lands in your hands and everyone cheers, rendering you speechless.

“Hey, wait! Is this even legal?” You protest and the crowd laughs. Y/F/N laughs hysterically, taking the microphone Jimin hands to her. “Oh, come on Y/N! You’ve been complaining about how single you’ve been since college! This is my gift to you for planning all of this for me and Yoongi,” she teases while you bury your face in the bouquet.

“Now, onto the next part,” Y/F/N grins and sits down on a chair. Yoongi laughs before walking over to her. He whispers something in her ear and Y/F/N nods, laughing. He kneels in front of her and pulls the garter down and the guests all cheer.

“Oh, boy.” You decide to take a break and head over to your favorite part of the room, the buffet table. You eye the chocolate fondue and grab yourself a plate, selecting all the desserts you’ve been lusting over since the food tasting when people start cheering and laughing from the front of the room. You turn around when you recognize Hoseok’s loud laughter and the sound of someone falling to the floor, most probably Jeongguk.

When you turn around, Taehyung’s already running towards you. Sensing the possibility that he’s going to drag you, you put down your plate of desserts just as Taehyung reaches you.

“You’re so dead,” He cackles, pulling onto your wrist just like you had expected. “Kim Taehyung, I’m wearing heels! Calm down!” Taehyung doesn’t stop dragging you and when you reach the front, you’re greeted with all of the boys and the bridesmaids laughing and cheering. An empty chair is positioned next to the laughing newlywed couple and beside the chair is none other than Kim Seokjin, holding the wedding garter in his hand. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter and Jeongguk excitedly takes you from Taehyung, leading you to the chair where he pushes you down to sit. 

“Jeon Jeongguk,I swear-” he shuts you up with a chocolate coated marshmallow (where did that come from?) and you have no choice but to eat the fluffy sweet.

Seokjin appears in front of you and suddenly you’re self-conscious, the marshmallow making your cheeks puff up. Despite his red ears, Seokjin still laughs at the sight of your cheeks. He kneels down and your heartbeat picks up. He looks back up at you and your eyes lock.

Lifting your foot gently, he slips the garter on and pulls it up your leg. Your cheeks heat up and if it weren’t for the camera clicks and flashes going off around the two of you, you would’ve forgotten people were watching. 

Contain yourself, Y/N. You remember your sophisticated British classmate, Alexandra, from college. It was something she would often say to you, whenever you passed by the cute athletes on the field. It was a sucker that she didn’t finish her studies in Korea, since she had to go back home to the UK.

Your thoughts are interrupted when the garter moves past your knee. Seokjin stops momentarily to look at you and you just nod at him. You don’t know what happens next, except that Y/F/N suddenly pulls you up and a slow song starts playing. 

“Go dance with your future groom,” she whispers in your ear before she’s whisked away by Yoongi. You look at them fondly and you aww at the sight before you, Y/F/N tearing up as Yoongi led their dance, words leaving his lips and his eyes bright. You can only guess whatever he’s saying to be full of love and you can’t help but smile brightly.

A gentle hand rests on your lower back and Seokjin stands beside you. You look at him and lock eyes. Cliché as it may be, the world around starts to blur out and you can only focus on your best friend.

“Is it too much to ask for a dance?” he smiles softly and offers his hand out for you. Placing your hand in his, you shake your head. “If it’s you, never.”

Seokjin smiles, and leads you to the dance floor along with the other couples. Your eyes meet Namjoon’s and he smiles at you. You smile back, before turning to fully face your best friend.

“Hi,” he begins and you laugh softly. “Hello.” Seokjin sways the both of you slowly and you sigh. 

“I’m sorry I tried to stop talking to you,” you apologize and Seokjin nods. “I was confused and scared, I didn’t know what to do about my feelings.”

“I wish you would’ve talked to me about it, but I understand. We were both cowards, let’s not deny that.” He replies and you nod. “But,” Seokjin tightens his hold around your waist and pulls you closer.

“I’m also sorry for not telling you things sooner. I’m sorry for keeping things from you,” he says, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean? You’ve never kept anything from me.”

Seokjin sighs and looks down. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he looks up again. “I kissed you. Long before Chanyeol ever did,” he admits. You can only look at him and he decides to just tell you everything. “Baekhyun’s party, the end of first semester of our third year in college,” he starts. “You were passed out on the couch and I had to carry you all the way home. I was about to tuck you in when you somehow regained consciousness. You were feeling a bit hot so I told you to get changed. I’d already taken your socks and jacket off then. You wanted me to help you get up so I did but you wouldn’t budge,” Seokjin watches your reaction but he can’t get anything out of the stare you gave him.

“After a few more tries, you finally decided to get up but I pulled on you too hard and you ended up kissing me. I thought you’d just move back but you kissed me and I kissed you back. I already had feelings for you back then,” Seokjin notices the light pink shade dusting your cheeks and it definitely wasn’t because of the makeup. “But when you woke up the next day, you only remembered Chanyeol.” 

“Jinnie,” you whisper and he chuckles softly. “You called me Jinnie that night too, and I guess because I always loved it when you called me that, I badly wanted to confess to you.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” 

“I was stupid, I was scared that maybe I’d lose you if I told you how I felt. And, as a roommate. I couldn’t pay for the rent on my own you know,” Seokjin jokes, trying to lighten the mood. You laugh and poke his cheek.

“You were stupid. I remembered the kiss, but I was scared that it meant nothing to you and you were only being nice. That’s why I said I only remembered Chanyeol because I was hoping to get a reaction out of you.”

Seokjin throws his head and lets out a whine. “Ugh, you mean to tell me we could’ve possibly been engaged or married by now if we weren’t such cowards in college?!”

You giggle at his annoyed look and nod. “Yes, you dummy. I can’t believe us,” you say and Seokjin huffs. “I can’t believe I let you go on all those dates with Chanyeol,” he pouts and your heart starts to ache for his adorable pout. “He even kissed you, held your hand and hugged you for an entire semester!” Seokjin starts to rant, and you laugh, knowing he’s not going to stop talking.

“How could I let him buy you that shitty coffee at the café when I knew how to make it better than those baristas? How could I let him give you those flowers that wilted after a day-” your lips shut him up and he stops talking.

His eyes widen and his ears redden again. “You’re talking too much, Jinnie. I didn’t even like Chanyeol that much,” you lead him away from the dance floor and out onto the balcony outside.

The cool spring breeze blows softly in the night and before you could even react, Seokjin drapes his coat around you. He rubs your covered shoulders in an attempt to warm you up and you smile at him. He makes you face him and before you could say anything, he leans down and kisses you softly.

You smile into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His arms wrap around your waist tightly. He tilts his head so he can kiss you better and if it weren’t for his arms around you, your knees would’ve given up on you.

“I love you,” Seokjin whispers, when you break away for air. His lips are still brushing against yours gently, and you give him another short, sweet kiss.

“I love you too.”

vii.

1 year later

“Gucci, come here!” You call out, and the overly energetic Maltese puppy jumps onto your lap, his tail wagging excitedly and his tongue sticking out. You stroke his hair and scratch his head happily, the puppy leaning into you.

“Ah, you’re so adorable, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your face in his neck. You hear the door opening and a smile crawls up your face. 

“Aish, I can’t believe I bought my girlfriend a puppy for her birthday so she wouldn’t feel lonely when I’m away and now I have to fight said puppy for my girlfriend’s attention because apparently she loves him more than she loves me,” Seokjin announces, walking into your apartment. 

You remove your head from Gucci’s neck and let go of the puppy, who barks happily and runs over to Seokjin, jumping up and down. “Hey, you’re home,” you greet and Seokjin bends down to greet Gucci with a few head scratches.

He walks over to you and you lean up, kissing him on the lips. “I missed you,” he whispers and you grin, pulling him on the couch. You lie back down and he crawls on top of you, his arms resting on both sides of your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you lean up to kiss his jaw.

“Can you not go away for more than a week?” You ask, cupping his face as he adjusts the two of you on the couch so that you’re cuddling. You lie on his arm as he entangles your legs together.

“I’ll try not to, but I really can’t help it, babe.” He kisses you again and you hum, burying your face in his neck.

You love it. You love the lazy days with Seokjin on weekends, but you love the days that he comes home after business trips more. “What did you wanna do this weekend?” He asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence and you look up at him. You purse your lips and look up in thought.

“I don’t know, but we have to take Gucci to the groomer’s though,” you say and the puppy comes running back, jumping on the couch to squeeze himself in between you. Seokjin groans and you giggle.

“He’s being too much. He’s had you all to himself the entire week!” Seokjin whines. You kiss his nose fondly. “I love you more though,” you point out and Seokjin grins.

“I miss sneaking into weddings with you,” you sigh, and Seokjin rubs your back comfortingly.

“Wanna sneak into another wedding again?” Seokjin sits up, pulling you up with him. Your eyes sparkle and Seokjin’s heart starts to pick up its pace. He nods and you squeal.

“Really? Where? When?” you ask and Seokjin reaches into his pocket.

“It’s not happening anytime soon, but I think it’s happening in 8 months or so,” he says and you look surprised. “Wow, how did you know about it this early? Is it someone you know?”

His hand comes out of his pocket and you raise an eyebrow at his clenched fist. “I don’t, but I’m just hoping it happens in 8 months,” he says and you laugh. “Jinnie, you’re not making any sense.” He smiles and lets out a shaky exhale.

You gasp because Seokjin’s suddenly kneeling in front of you, and in his hand is a velvet box. He opens the small box and a shiny, diamond ring greets you.

“I met you in the summer, when we both snuck into a wedding. We didn’t know each other that well but we clicked and the next thing I knew, I was sharing an apartment with you the entire time I was in college,” Seokjin begins, his eyes watering slightly. 

“You kissed me first when we were in our third year, and you still kissed me first last year when we finally had the guts to admit we were both in love with each other. Y/N, I ruined Yoongi’s proposal last year so that’s why I’m doing this here, and now. I don’t trust myself enough to be able to pull off something extravagant like Yoongi. But I hope this is enough to let you know that I really want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t wanna sneak into weddings anymore, because I want to have our own. I know a year ago I said I was worried about ending up alone and raising fifty cats, but you told me that I already have you and Gucci isn’t a cat.” You chuckle, the tears falling down.

“Do you wanna do the same things we did for Yoongi and Y/F/N’s wedding last year again but this time, for our wedding, with me? Will you marry me?” Seokjin asks and you don’t waste another moment. You kneel down in front of him, nodding and hugging him.

“Yes, Seokjin. Yes, I’ll marry you,” you answer and Seokjin wastes no time to slip the ring on your finger. He brings your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss there, his tears falling on your knuckles. You let out a watery laugh, and he looks up, kissing you on the lips.

“I love you, Y/N. I always have.”

“I love you too, Seokjin. Let’s get married.”

Gucci barks up in excitement and your moment is broken as the puppy starts to wiggle his way in between you, again.

“Are we gonna raise fifty dogs instead?” You ask Seokjin and he shakes his head immediately, making you laugh.

“I’m not competing for your love and attention with 50 dogs, Y/N.” Seokjin states firmly.

“But, Jinnie!”

“No.”

“Can we have a kid instead?”

“Well, I can’t say no to that.”

“I love you, Kim Seokjin.”

⇒ let me know what you think or hmu with anything under the sun here!

[kodzukuroken]

Seasons change, but people... Do too I guess.|Chapter 2, A little red paint never hurt anybody

Genre: Angst, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers

Summary: You and Tsukishima had been friends for years but upon the arrival of a very special invitation, your relationship takes a sudden change. Will your long-harbored crush for your best friend finally come into the light? Or will your relationship be altered for good?

Aka, Reader is an artist who is in love with Tsukki, there's angst, there are laughs, there are three established captain relationships! What could a person want?

Pairings: Tsukishima Kei x Reader (Kuroo Tetsuro x Kenma Kozume, Bokuto Koutarou x Akaashi Keiji, Daichi Sawamura x Sugawara Koshi)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing, Smut

Read on Ao3 | This will update before Tumblr

This is the 3rd chapter (including the prologue). I really love writing this story, there are currently 6 chapters out on AO3, so if you’d like to read past this chapter that’s where you can do it! Enjoy!

It had been just shy of two months since that night at Kuroo and Kenma’s wedding and you hadn’t spoken to Kei since. You’d figured at some point, one of you would pluck up the courage to text the other something small just to try and mend the wound that had been torn between you but neither of you did. You threw yourself into your work, staying up until sunrise almost every night painting, drinking and listening to some of Kei’s old CD’s from high school as loudly as you could just to drown out the sounds of your own conscience. After about a week of being off the grid. Bokuto and Akaashi had shown up at your studio, “because they were in the neighbourhood” they claimed, but considering the two lived almost an hour out of the city you doubted that was true. They’d sat with you awhile, asked you how you were doing but you could barely form a single sentence before the lump in your throat rose again and tears formed in your eyes. They left after a few cups of coffee and nothing really put to rest in your mind. A few days later Kuroo and Kenma had let themselves in and were sitting on the couch in your studio when you came back from getting more supplies. You were almost positive that Bokuto and Akaashi had let on that you were not doing as well as they might have hoped and the two had come rushing over after their honeymoon to comfort you.

“I’m fine Tetsurõ really” you weren’t but by this point, you’d gotten pretty good at lying about it. You continued to work on your current painting, while the two sat behind you trying to engage you about what had happened that night.

“I presume Bo and Akaashi have already filled you in on my breakdown,” you said holding out a palette knife covered in bright blue paint.

“They may have mentioned something about you being upset,” Kuroo said looking down at the ground, you looked at Kenma who had his legs over his new husband and was tapping away on his phone.

“They told us everything,” Kenma said without looking up.

“Ah hah!” you cried, some of the blue from your knife splattering on the already paint-covered floor. Kuroo sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Fine they told us, but just cause we know doesn’t mean we’re not worried (y/n).” The dark-haired man looked up at you from the couch, he wasn’t trying to hide the genuine worry in his face. Sitting down on the arm of the couch you turned to Kuroo and began to speak about as honestly as you had since that day in Bokuto and Akaashi’s hotel room.

“He rejected me and it hurt, but I think the thing that hurts the most is that he hasn’t tried to reach out to me”. It felt good to get off your chest, even if it did feel hard to get out.

“Well you haven’t reached out to him either” Kenma offered, eyes still on his phone. You sighed and rubbed the paint on your finger onto the pants leg of your overalls.

“I know, but I just don’t even know where to start. You know Kei, he’s not exactly good with feelings”.

“Well that makes two of you” Kenma muttered and Kuroo shoved his arm a little “what? She knows it's true”. And you did, you’d always thought that one of the reasons you and Kei had worked so well as friends was because neither of you were very good at expressing how you felt. So you showed it in your own ways, through pointed jabs and teasing, it had always worked for you. That was until you decided to kiss him at the wedding and destroy what you’d built up over the last seven years. Fuck you were an idiot. When Kuroo and Kenma left that night you’d finally started to feel a little lighter about the whole thing.

“Text us if you need anything okay? Between both of our sleep schedules, we’re basically awake 24/7”. With a tight hug from Kuroo and a small nod and wave to Kenma, the two left you alone to think about what they’d said.

You’d known they were right of course, that nothing was going to get solved if neither of you would just take the leap to reach out to each other but even still you found yourself finding every excuse not to over the next few weeks. As it came up to almost the two month anniversary to that awful night, you heard a knock at the door of your studio one day. You figured it could only be a handful of people since not many of your friends actually knew the address of the studio but the faces you were greeted with were much different. Standing in the doorway were two tall men, one with the most beautiful silver and the other’s inky black. It had been years since you’d seen their faces.

“Daichi! Suga!” you brought the two guys into a warm hug and they both reciprocated. “What the hell are you doing here?” You hadn’t known the two awfully well during your time at Nekoma, but once you and Kei went to college they would often ask you to babysit since you were so close by, Kei was never invited of course. You invited the two in and made them tea and sat across from them on a stool.

“So how are the kids?” you asked, still a little confused as to why they were there.

“Keishin is good, he’s loving his new school and he’s on the football team,” Suga said and you laughed.

“Football? Yikes, Daichi that must have hurt a little” Daichi laughed and shook his head.

“It stung at first but he’s actually really great” you smiled “and Yui? How are her piano lessons going”. The two smiled at the amount you remembered about their kids, you’d always enjoyed babysitting the two when they were younger. After a few more pleasantries, Daichi asking about your work and Suga asking after your mother (who he’d only met once but was nice enough to have remembered her name) the three of you began to grow silent as you ran out of things to talk about. You sighed,

“Guys, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you being here but” you paused and bit your lip “is there any chance you’re here because Tetsurõ sent you?” Daichi began to laugh nervously, before Suga put his hand on his husband’s knee.

“He called us last week, he said you haven’t done anything for the past two months but paint. He’s worried about you” Suga’s eyes were soft as he spoke.

“It is my job to paint you know, I’m an artist” but Suga just cocked his head and gave a knowing look.

“(y/n) look,” he said, setting down his tea “Dai and I have known Tsukishima a long time, even longer than you have in fact”. You let him continue.

“And we all know that he has trouble expressing his feelings but just because he freaked out that night doesn’t mean that he still doesn’t like you”.

“But he rejecte-”

“I know he rejected you” Suga began again. Wow, Kuroo really had told them everything “but when Tsukishima gets scared he runs away, he shuts his feelings out and pretends that they’re not there. Now he might think that that is the easiest way to handle it but it’s not. You have to talk”. You looked into Suga’s bright caring eyes and gave a small but sure nod and he smiled.

“Did you paint this?” Daichi interjected after a few moments of silence. You hadn’t noticed but he had been on his feet wandering around your studio for the past few minutes looking aimlessly at your paintings. The one in question was a pretty large canvas, you’d started painting well over six months ago. It was pushed in the corner of the room, behind an old easel, and was covered with a sheet which Daichi was now holding in his hands. You nodded.

“I uh, I had to put it away. After everything happened, I couldn’t look at it.” Daichi nodded and then returned his gaze to the painting. Walked over to join him.

“You should finish it,” he said plainly and you nodded in response. Shortly after that, the two left without a word, leaving you to stare intently at the half-done painting of you and Kei.

~

It was about a week after Daichi and Suga had dropped in to see you when you were in the convenience store around the corner from your studio. You were picking up various things, mainly alcoholic things but it was one of the first times in a while that you’d been out besides going to the craft store. You wandered aimlessly through the tiny aisles, the fluorescent lamps burning your eyes slightly. You were just turning down the last aisle in the store when you saw him. He was standing there, basket perched in the crook of his arm looking at a shelf full of drinks. He instinctively looked when he heard your footsteps and paused when he realized who you were. You stood for a moment, both staring at each other neither of you knowing what to do. God, he looks good you thought. He was only wearing a simple pair of jeans with a black hoodie, but he looked so effortlessly good, he’d always had a knack for that. After a brief moment of staring you took a deep breath and began to walk forward, Suga’s voice ringing in your head. He’d been right, he couldn’t run away from this, neither of you could. You stopped right in front of him and tried to smile warmly, but you were unsure if that’s how it came off.

“Hey,” your voice was a little dry since it was the first time you’d even spoken to anyone that day.

“Hi” he offered back and your muscles seemed to relax a little. Your gaze averted down to your shoes as you began to talk again.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called or anything, I’ve been working a lot”

“Me too” he said plainly and you nodded. There was a pause, neither of you really knew where to go from here, particularly in such a public setting.

“Hey can I show you something?” you asked before you even realized what you were doing and suddenly you began to panic. He looked down at you through his glasses, the way he used to do to the annoying first years in high school once you were both in your last year. You felt tiny. He didn’t answer, but you figured this was enough to keep going.

“It’s at my studio, it won’t take long. It’s right around the corner.” You felt dumb for that one, Kei had known where your studio was, hell he’s the one who’d helped you move your work there. He nodded slightly and before you knew it you were both paying for your groceries and heading out into the mild city air.

You walked next to each other, silent the whole way. Neither of you even stopped to look at each other until you got to the front of the building where you had to rummage around for your key in your bag. You unlocked the door and led Kei up the stairs, you’d basically been living here since the night at the wedding but right now it felt about as intimidating as when you’d walked into Nekoma on your first day of school. When you finally reached your studio, you opened the door slowly and flipped the light on. The place was a mess, you were messy, Kei had always known this about you but right now it felt about as embarrassing as it possibly could have because it reflected your personal state too. You set down your bag on the table near the door and Kei followed suit silently, you were still too afraid to meet his gaze. Instead, you led him over to the large canvas that Daichi had been staring at the other day. Now dragged into the middle of the room, the painting had been completed.

You were quiet for as long as possible, letting the blonde man next to you drink in the piece in front of him. But after a while of him not speaking you started to get worried. What if he can’t tell what it is? Your work always had been a little abstract, maybe Kei was confused because he thought you’d dragged him here just to look at a painting of birds or something. You decided to clarify.

“It’s us,” you said, arms folded across your chest. You saw him nod in your peripheral.

“Oh no yeah, I got that” you waited for him to elaborate, but it never came. You’d thought this would be a good idea. You’d thought that showing him this painting would make him see how much you’ve missed him over the past two months, but instead, he just stood there silently, his face this as blank as the day you’d kissed him.

“Look Kei,” you began, rubbing your eyes, “I don’t know what happened that night but I just want you to know that I’m here, as a friend or as whatev-”

“I’m dating someone” the words hung in the room like the aftershock of a bomb, your breath caught in your throat and suddenly felt like you were drowning. That’s why he couldn’t.

“Oh” you managed to choke out quietly. You brought your hand to your face, you hadn’t even noticed the tears that were now streaming down it. You stood there for a minute, letting him watch you cry before asking

“Does she make you happy?” You watched him close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“(y/n), don’t do this”

“Do what?” you asked, “I was just ask-”

“No, you’re trying to make things okay and they’re not (y/n)” he was firm this time, talking to you like you were a child and the blood in your veins began to boil.

“You always try to fix everything, but you can’t fix this (y/n). You just can’t!” he was louder than you’d ever heard him. In the entire time that you knew Kei, you’d never heard him really yell, but now he was yelling. You thought about apologizing, doing anything you could to reason with him but somehow nothing felt like enough.

“I don't know,” he began again, voice back to his usual register, “maybe it’s better if things just don't get fixed sometimes.” He spat the words out as if they didn’t mean anything to him, but they hit you full-on like a train and you felt your legs begin to shake.

“Are you saying you don’t want to be friends anymore?” you asked, disbelief shaking your voice. You took his silence as your answer.

“Fine, whatever you want,” you said and heard him scoff as you turned your back to him.

“Don’t act like this is all my doing (y/n), things were fine before…” he trailed off.

“No go ahead, before what Kei?!” you could hear yourself getting louder and you didn’t care.

“Before I kissed you? Why is that so awful? Was I really that stupid all the years? Did I really misread everything that badly?” You were yelling now, fists clenched and eyes streaming with tears. “At least I did something Kei, you know this is right I know you do but you’re running away just like you always do.” He laughed bitterly at this.

“Coming from the person who dated a guy she hated for three years just so she didn’t have to be alone” that one, really fucking stung. You shook your head

“This isn’t the same Kei, I’m not running away from something that has taken us so long to get to”. He was quiet, glaring off to the side before he finally spoke again.

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Hideout in my crappy art studio painting someone who doesn’t even want me?”. With that, he’d done his damage. Your heart was thoroughly ripped in two and you could not have felt smaller in that moment. You turned away again and spoke your final words

“Get out Tsukishima” you heard the door slam shut behind you.

You spent that night destroying the painting of you and him. At first, you grabbed a large tin of red paint that sat on the ground and began throwing it aimlessly at the canvas. You watched as the red trickled down over both your faces, covering up all your hard work. After a while, this didn’t feel like enough. You searched the room for something, anything that could do damage, and your eyes finally settled on a knife you’d used to cut canvas earlier that day. It felt powerful in your hand, the metal was cold against your searing paint-covered skin and you raised it above the painting. You paused for a moment as tears began to fall onto the canvas, Kei’s paint-covered face was the last real image that you would have of him and that sent the broken pieces of your heart clattering around in your chest. You shook your head to rid yourself of sadness, no, he’d done his fucking damage and now you got to do yours. You sliced straight through the painting.

You awoke that night at about three in the morning, you’d been tossing and turning on the couch in your studio and one particularly bad dream in which Kei had pushed you off the side of a building left you jolting awake. You were sweaty, paint-covered and hair a tangled mess, you rolled onto your side and looked into the darkness of your studio just able to make out the faint shape of the torn-up canvas. You lay there for a moment, taking shallow breaths and thinking you ran through the fight over and over again in your head and every time you came back to the last words you’d both said to each other. They made your stomach churn, in all the years of your and Kei’s relationship, filled with jabs and low blows, he had never said anything so hurtful. In all the time you’d known him, the one thing that he had never done was insult your art. In fact, he was one of the only people in your life who had been truly supportive of it, in his own kind of way. Even when you were deciding on colleges and your parents pressed you to choose something more “financially stable” Kei was the only one to tell you that they were idiots and that you should do whatever you wanted. But things were different now, years later and you were lying on a couch in a studio that felt completely useless, and the only person who had ever supported your passion had called it crappy. The pieces of your heart began to rattle again.

At some point, after that, you’d decided you couldn’t be in that room anymore and that you had to get out. You’d grabbed your bag and your keys from where you’d dropped them a few hours ago and headed out into the night. The air was cool on your skin, just like the knife had been earlier and you began to walk, letting your feet take you while your head kept running the argument over again. It wasn’t until you were standing outside of a tall apartment building downtown that you were even aware of where you were. You sighed and cursed your feet for bringing you here before climbing the steps and pressing the 4th button on a small panel next to the door and waiting for a response. It took a few seconds, but then you heard a small voice come through the speaker.

“Hello?” the familiarity of the voice suddenly made you relax a little before you pressed the button again.

“Hey Kenma, it’s me” that was all you had to say for the door to buzz and click off of its latch. You walked into the small lobby of Kenma and Kuroo’s apartment building and made your way slowly up the stairs. When you arrived at their apartment, Kenma was already standing in the doorway, you smiled faintly and let him lead you into the living room. As he did, you walked past a room that was lit up by Kenma’s gaming set-up and you suddenly felt so stupid.

“Oh god Kenma, were you streaming? I’m sorry I didn’t even think I-” he shook his head to cut you off.

“I’d just got off” you nodded lightly and joined him on the couch. He stared at you for a minute, fixing his gaze right at your face, you suddenly starting feeling self-conscious.

“What?” you asked him.

“You saw him didn’t you?” God for someone who didn’t like people, Kenma was sure good at studying them. You nodded, you could already feel the tears stinging your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I came here,” you said, voice cracking.

“You didn’t want to be alone,” Kenma said, completely matter of fact, you nodded again. “You know, there's one thing I’ve learned since being with Kuroo (y/n), there’s no shame in needing people. It took me a while to realise that, but it's true.” You looked at him in complete shock, you’d known Kenma for years, but you’d never heard him speak so honestly before it warmed your heart a little.

“Thanks, Kenma” you smiled weakly, and then the tears began again. Silently, Kenma moved closer to you on the couch. Just enough that you could grab the sleeve of his hoodie and rest your head on his shoulder lightly. You sat there for a while, crying quietly while he scrolled through his phone. It might have seemed small, but it was just what you’d needed. Just company, no one asking why or what happened it was just enough to know that he was there.

After some time of you and Kenma just sitting together quietly you heard footsteps come from behind you. You looked up to see Kuroo standing there clad in pyjama pants with little cats on them.

“Hey Tetsurõ, I’m sorry if I woke you I ju-”

“What the fuck is all over you!” he screamed. You’d stood from where you'd sat next to Kenma and looked down at your hands. You were still covered in red paint.

“Oh no, it’s just paint! Look you raised your hands and walked towards him”. He inspected your hands and rolled his eyes before looking to Kenma who was still sitting on the couch.

“Did you even ask her why she looked like she’d just committed a mass homicide babe?” Kenma shook his head and Kuroo sighed.

“Okay, Kenma honey. I can’t believe I have to say this but if someone comes into our house looking like they’ve just killed someone what do we do?”

“Help them hide the body,” Kenma answers, so deadpan that you couldn’t help but laugh. Kuroo shoots you daggers and you stop, looking at him sheepishly.

“(y/n) go shower, I'll find something for you to wear. I assume you’ll stay here tonight?” you nod and walk past Kuroo to the bathroom. You pause just before entering and turn to him, eyes filled with tears once again.

“Kuroo I-” you start but he just nods and smiles.

“I know (y/n)” you mimic his small smile before stepping into the bathroom to shower.

The first thing that hits you when you look in the mirror is how disheveled you looked. Is this how I looked when he saw me? Just thought of him seeing you this broken made you feel even more nauseous that you’d already been feeling. Your hair was sticking up randomly out of the bun you had it in and the rest of your hair sat limply on the top of your head. You under eyes were dark with lack of sleep and flecks of red paint dotted your face like some kind of disease. You looked like shit. Sitting on the ground of Kuroo and Kenma’s bathroom you pulled your phone from your pocket. There was a small part of you that was praying that there was some kind of attempt from Kei to contact you, but there was nothing.

You sat there for a moment mind racing thinking back to all the things you’d said to each other, and before you knew it the phone was trilling in loudly against the bathroom walls. Fuck it , you thought. You knew this was a bad idea, but you were so far past broken at this point that you didn’t even care about what you were doing. All you knew was that when you were feeling this shitty, the only person you wanted to talk to was Kei because he knew you best. But Kei’s voice never came, after a few drawn-out rings the line simply went dead and the sound of an automated voicemail could be heard. He’d rejected your call.

[jaehyun-eclipsed]

Before I Met You | Seventeen

Updates: Sundays

Pairing: NCT (Jaehyun, Lucas, Mark, Jaemin, Johnny) X Reader/OC

Genre: Romance, Angst, Coming of Age

Summary: Four. There were four people before I fell in love with you… Here are their stories.

Author’s Note: Hi! Thank you so much for reading this far! This is definitely a long read so I am very grateful for your patience and willingness to continue following along with me. With this being the last chapter for Jaemin’s story, Johnny’s story should be starting next Sunday. However, I have a few things going on in the next couple weeks and so Johnny’s story will begin on 8/16. Additionally, if you have any feedback - what you like, what could be improved, etc. - please let me know! I am looking to make this story better! But anyway, without further ado, please enjoy the final installment of Jaemin’s story. 

Before I Met You Masterlist

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“He just went downstairs. Should I do it?”

The hallway window on the other side of the house can be seen from my room. I watch Jaemin’s figure as he rounds the corner and heads downstairs towards the kitchen. 

“It’s up to you,” my dad responds.

“Okay, I’ll call you back.”

I hang up the phone and grab my nearly full water bottle to go down to the kitchen. Booming thunder makes me jump as I grab the doorknob. The sky is gray – gloomy from the intermittent rain all Sunday morning. My heart begins pounding.  

Come on, Y/N, it’s going to be fine. It’s just a question. You’re not even asking him out. You just want to find out how he feels… And if it goes well, THEN maybe we’ll ask him out.

Jaemin is filling up his water bottle. He’s wearing an over-sized t-shirt and basketball shorts and his hair looks a bit disheveled as if he woke up not too long ago. He obviously didn’t have any plans to go out today.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

His gaze drops down to my lower body, scanning up and down my legs. My body freezes halfway to the water dispenser, breath hitching in my throat as I open my mouth to say something. The seconds have slowed down. The individual drops from the occasionally leaky kitchen faucet splash against the sink. The turning of textbook pages echoes from the dining room. My mouth has gone dry.  

Do it.

“I think we should do it this way,” Jia says from the neighboring room.

Never mind, don’t do it.

Jaemin looks right past me and walks away without another word.

I let out a sigh of relief and take a large gulp of water, mentally kicking myself for being such a wimp.

Well so much for that.

“You chickened out,” Dad says immediately upon answering my second call.

“I can’t… I can’t do it,” I say in between laughs. “I couldn’t do it! And also, Jia is downstairs!”

To my surprise, he imitates how the brief exchange occurred exactly.

“Yeah, that’s basically what happened! I said, ‘hi!’ and then I felt my heart pounding in my chest and thought, ‘Just say hey and ask him.’ Then I thought, ‘No! Don’t do it!’” I continue nervously laughing. “This must be terrifying for guys!” I exclaim.

“Yes. That’s why a lot of these things happen. They intend to do it, but fear overcomes them,” he responds.

“Okay, we’ll have to try again later. I thought about going outside to ask him, but he doesn’t have his keys…”

“And be in the rain?”

I pause for a moment. “That sounds so dramatic, but yeah! If he doesn’t have his keys and something goes badly, and I leave first, he’s going to get locked out. Then I’ll have to go out and say, ‘Sorry, didn’t mean for you to get locked out.’”

“Right. ‘Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to lock you out just because you said ‘no,’” he says sarcastically.

“Exactly! Now I’m thinking about how Lucas did it because he was probably like, ‘One, two, three, go!’”

“Right, but he didn’t have to say anything.”

“True, but it still could have been a rejection.”

“That’s true, but it’s still a little bit easier.”

All Lucas had to do was see how I reacted to him taking my hand. Granted, it would’ve been a little bit more difficult for me to turn him down given that grabbing my hand didn’t exactly give me too many options unless I wanted to cause a scene.

A flash of lightning adds a brief hint of silvery blue to the gray sky. Within a few seconds, rain starts pelting against the window.

“It’s raining again,” I eventually remark. “There aren’t many people around, it seems.”

“It seems like it would be a good day to do it then. Few people are around.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s in his room by himself. Do you think this is a good idea?”

“It’s up to you.”

“I honestly have nothing to lose.”

“You’re right. You don’t.”

“And if I don’t ask, then I lose out on ever knowing.”

“Okay, I’m going to get off the phone so that I don’t influence you either way.”

“Wait!”

“Bye!”

“Wait, I –”  

Great, now what do I do? I should just do it. This is ridiculous.

I begin pacing throughout my room and bathroom, occasionally looking in the mirror to repeat words of encouragement to myself.

“You can do this.”

No, you can’t. You can’t do this.  

Oh my God, yes, you can! This is dumb, Y/N. You have nothing to lose.  

Yes, you do. You guys are decent friends now. If you do this and he says ‘no,’ he might not talk to you anymore.  

Oh, who cares? He’s probably moving into an apartment. It’s not like we’re going to talk much next year anyway. I may not even see him.

I look at the clock as a wave of nausea washes over me. It’s fifteen minutes past two.

“Okay, you’re going to do it in five minutes.”

Oh my God, what are you doing?

My breathing increases until I start to hyperventilate. A jumble of panicked and incomplete thoughts runs through my head, quickly jumping from optimism to pessimism in the same sentence. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. He’s going to say – don’t worry about that – maybe he wo – he’s going to say “no.” My heart races and I run into the bathroom, opening the toilet seat as I fear I might actually throw up.  

Holy shit. I didn’t realize that people were actually serious when they say that they’re so nervous they could throw up. They didn’t make that up.  

In a surprising moment of clarity, my facial expression changes to one of displeasure as I am feeling slightly scornful of my behavior. 

What are you freaking out about? It’s nothing.

“Forget it,” I mumble to myself.

I open the door and begin making confident strides towards Jaemin’s room. The soft strumming of a guitar makes me feel somewhat at ease. Okay, he’s not busy. He’s playing the guitar so he’s probably relaxed. Taking a deep breath, I lift my hand and just as my fist is about to come into contact with his door...

Ha! Nope!

I’m light on my toes as I run back to my room. I press my back against my door and slowly slide down until I’m sitting on the floor, huffing as I chastise myself for being so scared.

“Holy shit. Why are you such a chicken?” I say between gritted teeth.

I resume the nervous pacing and mental swearing of how ridiculous the whole situation is. You’ve been preparing for this for two weeks! You’re not even asking him out! You’re just asking him what’s going on! A disappointed sigh escapes my lips as I think back to being so ready to do this and now that it’s finally time, I am chickening out. But in the back of my mind, I know that I’ll really kick myself this summer if I don’t do it. Jaemin and I don’t text as casual friends so the likelihood that we would text during the summer is basically zero.

I want to know.

I have to know.  

I need an ending.  

But what if he says ‘no’?  

Who cares if he says, ‘no’? Frankly, I don’t really care what the answer is. Obviously it would be better if he says ‘yes’, but if he says ‘no,’ at least I’ll know. It will be over and I can move on with my life. He’s probably going to say ‘no’ anyway.  

The thoughts become a bit more demeaning and I begin picturing a pro wrestler screaming profanities at me in an attempt to use reverse psychology to get me to do something.

Y/N, stop being such a wuss. You’re not weak. 

Fuck it.

For the umpteenth time, I open my door and march down the hall. With one last deep breath, I gently knock on the door three times. The sound of the guitar suddenly stops and I wait.  

And wait.

And wait.

What the fuck?

There’s a small voice, almost like someone is saying, “Hello?”

Did he just say, “hello?” to someone possibly knocking on his door? Jaemin, do you expect people to shout through the door? Can’t you just get up and open it?

I cross my arms and frown when I hear the guitar starting up again.

Dude, what the hell? I know you heard me knocking!

Suddenly, the nervousness that so desperately wanted to initiate my flight response has been replaced with annoyance. Perhaps the annoyance is still out of nervousness, but I digress. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy and I had to work up a lot of courage to do it. However, I did not expect to have this obstacle – which is really more of a logistical obstacle than a practical one.

I knock again.  

After another moment, someone begins fumbling around inside and the door is cracked open, revealing a confused Jaemin.  

Finally.

“Uh, hi,” he says.

I forgo the greeting and look at him blankly.

“Did you knock twice?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“I said ‘hello’ like three times.”

What the hell? Who does that?

“Oh, well I didn’t hear you,” I say. 

I ball my hand into a fist, pressing my nails into the flesh to help distract me from my nervousness. “Are you alone?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah…” he responds slowly.

I press my lips together. “I need to ask you something.”

“Okay…” he says, waiting expectantly.

“Can I come in for a second?”

“Sure.”

He pulls open the door and I step inside, reaching behind my back with an arm to grab the doorknob and step backwards to use my entire body to push the door closed.

Their room is a mess. A dirty knife balanced on top of an open peanut butter jar, clothes strewn over the bed posts, unmade beds – it’s definitely a boys’ room.

“Um…” I shift my gaze to the floor, knowing he’s watching me, anticipating what I’m going to say – likely something about me confessing my love for him.  

I sigh and swallow my fear.

“So…” I begin, “Have we just been dancing around in circles or… do you actually want to dance with me?”

He looks blankly at me. “What…?”

Jesus.

“Uh – I – I –”

God, I have to clarify?!

I try to rephrase the question without directly mentioning what I’m really trying to ask. Ha. I guess I’m the one dancing around now.

“Have we just been dancing around the issue or…?”

“Um… what are you asking exactly?” he asks, his forehead creasing.

Shit. Do I have to straight up ask you if you like me? I don’t wanna do that. How do you not understand my question?  

“Do you not understand my question?” I ask.  

That was a stupid question.

“No, like… dancing…? What do you mean?” he asks.

“It’s metaphorical,” I remark.  

Seriously, Y/N? “It’s metaphorical?” That’s what you tell him?

“For what?”

For what? What do you mean “for what?” Jaemin, I know you’re not this stupid. You might be slow, but you’re not stupid.

I sigh again. “Um… I don’t know what’s been going on for the past –”

“Oh!” His eyes widen as if he’s suddenly come to the realization of what I’ve been trying to ask. “I thought we were just friends at that point…” he says slowly. “I’m just a friendly person…”

The fuck?

“Oh.” My mouth is agape, trying to process what he just said. “Okay…”

“Yeah, I’m just a friendly guy. So feel free to be friendly…” he says, making nervous hand gestures to the air.  

I feel like I was just hit with a brick. You were just being “friendly,” huh? You really might want to rethink what the definition of “friendly” is.

“Okay, I just needed to know,” I say, my tone level due to shock and inability to comprehend the present scene.

“Okay, yeah, that’s cool.” He presses his lips together and nods to himself a few times. “So I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I say as I grab the door handle and smile with a slightly embarrassed look on my face.

“It’s okay.”

My back slams against my door with a loud thud and my heart is still pounding from the residual adrenaline. I run my hands over my face and let out a loud sigh.  

“I can’t believe I just did that.”

My mind begins replaying the scene over and over again – Jaemin’s facial expressions, his weird hand gestures to defend his stance, his relative calmness despite my clear interrogation. The word “friendly” plays like a broken record.

Friendly? No one does that when they’re just being “friendly.” Jaemin, do I have to throw a dictionary at your head? Friendly means affable... cordial… genial… NICE. Friendly does not mean flirting. Friendly does not mean making sexual innuendos and holding a girl from behind to help her shoot pool. Actually, you work in C++, don’t you, Jaemin? I can put it in code for you!

Friendly == being nice, giving me a stamp to mail a letter that one time because I didn’t have one

Friendly != flirting, thigh touching, anything Jaemin does

There! No, that is obviously not how you write code – because I don’t know how to write code – but I know the equality operators so you should too!

There are a couple things that I am fairly confident of now. First, Jaemin now realizes that I thought that he liked me. And second, even though I didn’t explicitly say anything, he knows I like him. So there goes my dignity.

But both of those things should have been known by him months ago – given his character. He’s smart, quick-witted, and very observant. Or at least, he’s supposed to be – though I’m guessing he was just playing stupid. There’s no way he didn’t know he was flirting.

I send a 911 text to Mark and within five minutes, he’s calling me.

“He said what?!” Mark exclaims.

“He said, ‘I thought we were just friends at that point… I was just being friendly because I’m a friendly guy… So feel free to be friendly.’ And then he did this weird thing with his hands, like pushing them out like he was presenting something.”

“Yo! Why does he sound so defensive? He keeps repeating himself. ‘I was just being friendly.’ ‘I’m a friendly guy.’”

“That didn’t even occur to me. But you’re right. He used that word like four times within twenty seconds.”

“I knew this guy was trash! But he’s totally lying to you.”

The answer doesn’t make any logical sense. It explains absolutely nothing. It can’t explain any of the behavior – staring, offering physics help, asking me for physics help when I’m the one who needs it, teaching me how to play pool, Jeno’s teasing when I was around...

“Because if it were me,” Mark continues, “and I didn’t actually like you, I wouldn’t say it like that. I’d probably say something like, ‘I’m so sorry if my actions came off that way, but I don’t like you like that.’”

Mark makes a good point and it irks me more than I realized. I didn’t get a straightforward “no.” Obviously I can infer what “just being friendly” means. It means “no.”  But why can’t you just say that? If I had received a straight “no,” it still wouldn’t have made any sense and I’d still agree with Mark and think Jaemin was lying. But at least it wouldn’t be an even more confusing excuse.

“But I also wouldn’t be trying to touch you and make dirty jokes either… ‘cause that’d be weird if I didn’t like you.”

I chuckle. “Thank you, Mark. I know I can always count on you to provide some logic.”

“Anytime.”

“I think you’re right though… I don’t believe him either. His answer doesn’t line up with his actions.”

“I’m sorry that happened, Y/N. Are you okay though?”

It’s funny. I was so busy trying to do a bunch of mental gymnastics to figure out the Jaemin puzzle that I hadn’t even thought about my own feelings.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Technically, I got rejected, but I’m not devastated or anything. I guess I’m just irritated and confused. It’s like when you’re doing a jigsaw puzzle and you have one more piece, but you happened to get one of the defective puzzles so the last piece doesn’t fit.”

“Yeah… I just wanted to check. I know you’re not that outwardly emotional, but I know that doesn’t mean you don’t experience them. But still, I’d be mad if I were you.”

“Well, if there was any possibility of Jaemin and me remaining friends during the rest of college, I think I just threw that out the window,” I say with a nervous laugh.

“He doesn’t deserve your friendship anyway,” Mark responds bitterly. “Didn’t you say that Jeno defended you or something?”

“Um, I could only assume he was.”

“Do you think that Jeno might like you?”

Jeno’s voice rings through my ears. From the time he sounded like he confronted Jaemin to that warning when I was writing a letter in the next room.

“Are you just leading her on? She’s a nice girl, Jaemin.”

“You know that she’s right over there, right?”

“It – it crossed my mind, but I didn’t really consider it too seriously.”

“Why else would he bother defending you if he didn’t?”

“Because he disagrees with his roommate’s sense of morality?” I ask half-sarcastically.

“Ha!” Mark begins laughing. “You really think he thinks about that?”

“Hey! I think about that kind of stuff!”

“Yeah, but most people aren’t you, Y/N! And you still chose to hang out with the guy even though you knew he had a girlfriend.”

I put my hands up in defense even though Mark can’t see me. “In my defense, I was not the one doing anything.”

“My point is, it’s an iffy line. But anyway, that would also explain the staring. Maybe he likes you, but he knows you and Jaemin like each other, so he’s not going to do anything. But if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have said any that stuff anyway.”

Jeno’s purpose for staring at me was still a mystery. My instinct was telling me that Mark might be right, but I’ll never find out.

Well, I suppose I could ask Jeno, but I’m not about to put myself through that again.

It’s times like these where I wish I could read minds. I want to know what both of them have been thinking. But I know one thing for sure: Jaemin won’t be forgetting me any time soon.  

I just hope I don’t get written off as a psychopath like Jisu. While I didn’t sit outside his room to wait to talk to him, what I did wasn’t exactly any better. Granted, I’m not his ex.

“Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I misread his –”

“No, no, I’m cutting you off right there,” Mark interjects. “There’s no way you misread any of that. And didn’t he like you before you had any real interest in him? You only started to like him because of what he was doing.”

“Hm, you’re right. I didn’t have any feelings at the beginning. Nothing to cloud my mind.”

“Trust yourself, Y/N. I know your intuition is top notch.”

For the next few days, I was wracking my brain, going over the problem many times from many different perspectives to see if any of them could make a logical and coherent story. Unfortunately, they didn’t. I hadn’t run into Jaemin since my little confrontation, but I also hadn’t been spending as much time downstairs studying, choosing to stay in my room at night.

Jaemin was actively avoiding me. I’d seen him on the edge of campus a couple times and each time, he’d realize I was there and walk to the next block to cross the street instead. My best guess is that he’s embarrassed, which is understandable. There’s no doubt that any future interaction with him is going to be awkward. I certainly feel awkward at the prospect of even having to say hi to him, but surprisingly, my dignity is pretty intact.

As soon as Jaemin gave me his answer, I just dropped him. I stopped trying to listen in on his conversations. I stopped trying to be in places where he would conveniently see me. I just stopped because there was no reason to put in anymore effort. He gave me his answer and even though it didn’t make any sense, that was that. There was nothing else left to do. It was done.

After a week of evading every possible chance to run into me, Jaemin started waving to greet me again. He wouldn’t come up to talk to me, but he wasn’t going out of his way to avoid me either.

Finals were approaching and I returned to my normal spot in the dining room. And just when I thought I could live my life peacefully with the bare minimum for interacting, Jaemin decides to throw in another wrench.  

Jaemin is talking to one of the other residents when I walk into the kitchen to get some water. He looks at me and waves. I offer him a polite nod in return.  

“Did you watch?”

I jump in surprise upon realizing Jaemin is talking to me.

Watch? Watch what? Oh… He’s talking about The Flash.

“Oh. No, I haven’t.”

“You find out his secret identity.”

“Oh! Who is it?”

“I’m not going to tell you!”

“Fine, I’ll just go online and read about it.”

“What the…?” he says in disbelief.  

“I gotta study for chemistry! Barry can wait!”

He exchanges a few more words with the other resident and then walks over to me. “You have to watch the episode. It’s the best one of the season!”

Oh so we’re cool now? And you’re just going to act like nothing happened?

“I’ll see about checking it out later. I gotta finish up some things first.”

He nods in agreement and before stepping out of the room he says, “Yeah, me too. But let me know when you watch it. I wanna know what you think!”

There’s a weird expression on my face as I watch him leave. I knew we weren’t going to be friends and honestly, if he decided never to talk to me ever again, I probably wouldn’t have cared. Leaving it at a polite wave would’ve been fine! In fact, saying nothing is much easier! And now he wants to act like nothing happened and essentially gave me an invitation to start up another conversation with him. Jaemin! Make up your mind!

I stand alone in my room; it’s bare, with the exception of the provided furnishings. Jia had moved out a day earlier after finishing her finals. A nostalgic sigh falls from my lips as I reflect on the year. Despite it not having the ending I wanted, it was good. I had started to feel a little more comfortable being away from home, classes were better, I made more friends, and to top it all off, I was a lot more confident than I thought.

After checking for any last items, I slowly close my door for the final time of my sophomore year. A small smile creeps onto my face as I walk down the hall, still grateful for the experiences I had in this house. At the very least, Jaemin’s story will be a good one for the books.

Right as I walk by Jaemin’s room, the door flies open and Jaemin is standing there in the doorway. I casually greet him and continue on my way to my car. He returns my greeting and I hear him shut his door and start to follow me down the stairs.

You’ve got to be kidding me.  

I look up at the ceiling and roll my eyes.

Whoever you are up there, what are you doing? What kind of fucking timing is this?

In an effort to break the very likely awkward silence as we walk down the stairs, I decide to say something of no consequence. 

“You have a final?” I ask over my shoulder.

“Yeah,” he responds. “Are you finished with finals?” 

“Yeah, I’m actually moving out right now.”

“Oh, are you going home?”

“No, I’m going home on Sunday.”

“Oh, so where are you moving to?”

And you care… why?

“Uh…” I hesitate. “Do you mean next year?”

“No, where are you moving into now?”

“Oh! I’m going to a relative’s house right now.”

“Oh okay.” He turns to head in the other direction, but looks over his shoulder and offers a small smile. “I’ll see you later.”  

Seriously? I wasn’t going to say anything to you before leaving and just my luck, we walk out together.  

I had waited and planned in order to get my defined ending so that I could finally stop. Except it wasn’t defined. It was the exact opposite and I didn’t really believe him. And as I watch him walk towards campus, I realize how bittersweet the ending actually is.  

Jaemin was my last goodbye of my sophomore year.

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