#i like thinking about how they would meet or what they would think of each other

[eightmakesonebraincell]

can i get a name for your drink? yeah, peter parker

genre: delinquent!ateez x bubble tea worker!reader, meet-cute, high school au, fluff, crack

length: 6.6k

c/w: cliche depictions of high school delinquents, mentions of smoking, drugs and clubs, boys trying to act tough, everybody has bad humour, swearing is their mother tongue

synopsis: a bubble tea shop is one of the last places you would expect for a high school delinquent to walk into during the dead of night. yet here you are, forming an unlikely friendship with not one but eight of them. they may be kind of stupid, but they also kind of grow on you.

a/n: a fic with no angst? a fic without a 40k wc?? new writer who dis. just a short and sweet fic @sorryimananti-romantic helped prod me to write

you know that you are probably shaving a couple months off your lifespan each time you work a night shift at the bubble tea shop and subsequently fuck up your entire sleep routine for the next couple of days, but it gives you a bit of extra money, there are hardly any customers, and it is quiet enough that you can squeeze in some studying at the same time.

the shop probably averages about two couples and a few odd individuals here and there per night. why a small business would even decide to stay open during ghost hours in the first place, likely making negative profit, you have no idea. but you digress–you are just here to bum around for money.

so when your average customer number suddenly spikes not just by one, two or three people, but by an entire group of eight, it is safe to say you are more than confused. they are obviously your age because you can recognise the school crest embroidered onto the front pocket of their uniform shirts; it is one of the nearby high schools in the area. except, that is where the similarity ends.

only half of them are wearing their uniform, and even then they layer it unbuttoned over bold statement t-shirts like it is a mere accessory. the others wear black tracksuits and there is not a single pair of proper school shoes to be seen. your eyes cannot help but scan their pierced ears and obviously-styled hairstyles–you are pretty sure the shortest boy has dyed his hair a lighter shade of brown too.

it is hard to take your attention off of him as he takes one last drag of the cigarette in his hand, lazily blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth before he flicks the butt onto the floor outside and steps in through the door along with the others. you idly wonder how he got his hands on a fake id to purchase cigarettes in the first place, but at least he is polite about not smoking inside your store.

the group saunters up and you startle slightly as the boy at the front slaps his hand against the counter with the matching confidence to his glorified 6 foot height to demand, “give me a double shot of espresso.” he pulls away his hand to reveal a mismatched assortment of sad coins and crumpled notes.

“we, uh–” you glance not so subtly at the wall-sized menu behind you and the LED lighting decor sprawled across the other three walls with the phrases, ‘you’re a cu-tea’, ‘you’re pearl-fect’, and ‘you’re my bo-bae’, and wonder what gave these boys the impression they could order coffee. “we don’t sell coffee,” you state.

he does not seem fazed by your words at all. “can’t you just, like, charge me for your most expensive drink and make me a coffee?” he asks his absurd question with practiced ease, which makes you think that this is not his first rodeo.

unfortunately for him though, you deadpan, “i physically can’t. we don’t have a coffee machine.”

the boy’s expression finally cracks a little and you can literally see the cogs slowing down to a stop inside his brain. “aw, fuck,” he swears, “this worked last time.”

one his friends shrugs callously and snickers, “what did i say, mingi. told you they wouldn’t have one.”

“shut up, jongho,” he gripes in response.

you gesture vaguely at the laminated menu on the counter beside the cash register. “would you like something else to drink?” you offer.

the tall boy–mingi–takes all but one look at the barrage of words before his eyes flicker back up towards you. “recommend something.”

“depends on what you’re feeling,” you hum your scripted question, pointing to the different sections of the menu. “do you want something fruity or milky?”

he looks constipated as he weighs the two options. “fruity?” he eventually settles, still sounding unsure. “what’s good?”

at the question, all of their eyes turn to look at you intently and you feel yourself wilting internally at the thought of explaining the drinks to a group of boys that look like outright delinquents, because if there is one downside to working here apart from the crippling health impacts, it is the loss of your dignity each time you have to say the stupid names of the drinks.

“well,” you clear your throat and steel yourself, “we’ve got the bubbly butterfly blues, a purple grape and blueberry fruit ade, or the mysterious mermaid magic, a mango and passionfruit green tea with rainbow pearls.” you forge on with your explanations despite the furrowed brows and open mouths of judgement on their faces, deciding to give them a recommendation for a milky drink too just in case. “the rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles is also pretty popular. it’s a strawberry milk tea with whipped cream, sprinkles and marshm–”

“i’ll take that one,” mingi interrupts, unable to stand the onslaught of words that make the world around him explode into pink glitter. he drops an additional crinkled note onto the counter for good measure and then strides away to take a seat at the table in the furthest corner of the store to wait for his cutesy drink.

half a snort escapes the back of your throat at the sight. mingi may as well hold a megaphone to his mouth and shout “i am a manly man!” to make himself feel better. what an idiot.

you shift your attention to the rest of the group. “anything i can get for you guys?” you ask.

“fuck it, why not,” the one who had been smoking shrugs immediately. “get me the same thing he’s getting.”

most of the others pass and step away to join mingi at the table as you sort out the payment for delinquent number two’s cutesy drink. when you close the cash register–you are tempted to ask them why they have so many loose coins–the last two of the boys sidle up to the other side of the counter, peering down carefully at the menu.

you frown.

these two are actually wearing their uniform properly, only the first buttons of their shirt undone, no brightly-coloured tee peeking out from underneath, ties still around their neck and shirts tucked into their pants. they are even wearing their name tags; kang yeosang and park seonghwa. also, apart from the fact that the two appear prim and proper enough to be part of the student council, they are also very pretty.

said two look up at you, catch the frown across your face, fumble a little, then give you a small smile as a peace offering. “hi,” seonghwa greets softly, “can we get two regular pearl milk teas, please? thank you.”

you physically recoil.

“blink twice if you’re being threatened,” you blurt out, the words tumbling unwisely out of your mouth before you can stop them and definitely loud enough that all eight of the boys can hear you.

blink twice seonghwa and yeosang do, but not as a confirmation that the stark difference in their appearance and demeanour to the others is a sign they are being bullied into hanging out. they blink to ask–very respectfully–what the fuck you are on about.

they blink at you. you blink at them. the other boys blink at the three of you.

“sure thing!” you vocally sweep your own words under the rug. “two regular pearl milk teas coming right up!”

you swipe yeosang’s payment out of his hands–notes and coins carefully counted out to the exact amount–and punch the number into the cashier before swiftly turning your back to them to make their drinks. if you ignore something hard enough then it never happened. and it works, because they retreat to join the rest of their friends at the furthest table without further comment.

it does not take long to make all four of their drinks, but you do take a few extra minutes to carefully swirl the whipped cream on top of the strawberry milk tea orders and artistically shower them with sprinkles and marshmallows. you want to make them as cute as you fucking possibly can just for mingi.

“two rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles and two regular pearl milk teas,” you call out.

they all stand up, likely ready to leave once they grab their drinks. mingi leads the group with his long strides and he picks up his drink with one hand. he holds it up to eye level to study it like an unknown specimen and the moment he picks it up, one of his friends–you think you overheard the others call him wooyoung–cannot help but blurt out with distaste, “that shit looks sweet as fuck.”

mingi holds his drink closer to his body with a light glare because hey, it does look sweet as fuck but it also actually looks really good. and kind of cute, he will admit. he takes a tentative sip through the straw then a small lick of the whipped cream on top, the scattered toppings simultaneously crunching and melting in his mouth to spread sweet diabetes across his tongue.

it tastes like drugs in sugar form.

and it must show on his face because the tallest of his friends leans over to do the same, taking a sip from the same straw and a lick of the whipped cream from the other side, only far more generous and daring than the drink’s owner.

“bro,” comes the tall boy’s immediate reaction, “i’d get one of these every day.”

wooyoung suddenly looks less dubious and asks, curiosity now piqued, “give me a sip of that rainbow shit.”

“no,” mingi instantly responds, still keeping his drink close to his body and literally turning away to keep it protected and out of wooyoung’s reach. “you insulted my drink. get your own.”

the latter whines and you physically jerk backwards for the second time that night at their complete disregard for following stereotypical delinquent traits. you are starting to think that they are not delinquents so much as delinquent-wannabes and they seem increasingly harmless the more they simply exist.

“hongjoong,” wooyoung suddenly sings out, appearing to change targets to his other friend who had ordered the same drink. he is determined to try a sip tonight without having to spend his own money, but alas–

hongjoong flips him off and cradles his drink out of sight too. “you insulted my drink by extension.”

–determination can only get him so far.

this time, you cannot help the proper snort of amusement that leaves your mouth. you dare to hold your gaze with a lightly teasing lilt of your lips when wooyoung whips his head around with narrowed eyes. the boy cogs turn in his head as he deduces how far he can push the boundaries with you and he must come to some sort of conclusion that you are a newfound stranger-friend because he jokes with a straight face, “i’ll rob you.”

“sure,” you answer easily, tapping in a fake order onto the register’s screen to eject the cash drawer with a comedic ding! emphasising your words.

a few of them guffaw and wooyoung’s expression lights up to actually reach over the counter to help himself to a ten dollar bill. that is, until his hand is slapped away by somebody else with quite possibly the most perfect eyebrows you have ever seen. and no. you are most definitely not jealous.

“i’ll pay for your drink,” the friend chides, digging into his back pocket to fish out his wallet.

seonghwa shakes his head and advises, “don’t enable him, san,” at the same time that wooyoung brattily decides, “nah, don’t want one.”

“god, that’s it,” jongho mutters, starting to usher the group away from the counter towards the direction of the doors. “we’re leaving. mingi’s waiting outside already.”

they let themselves be herded and a few of them even turn to wave goodbye to you at the doors, cheerfully leaving behind the words ‘we’ll be back!’ in their wake as they exit the shop. your hand remains suspended in the air mid-wave even after they have disappeared and you blink blankly at the bizarreness of your entire encounter with the group of boys.

you do not know if they truly mean it when they say they will be back, but you do know one thing; you kind of hope that they do.

“can i get that thing i got last week.”

the tone of mingi’s voice ends his sentence more like it is a demand than it is a question, but the nuance of his words is still a request and already an improvement in comparison to your first encounter with him. if you are completely honest, you are also somewhat happy to see him and the others come back, so you will take the wins where you can. baby steps.

“which one?” you clarify. “i don’t remember.”

you do remember because their group of eight is pretty hard to forget, and they are some of the only customers you ever get. plus, you have made it somewhat of a personal challenge to hear mingi say something as stupid as ‘rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles’, which means that you are going to pretend for as long as you need to.

he scratches the side of his neck. “y’know, that drink you said is good.”

“we have a couple of those. was it the, uh, mysterious mermaid magic?” your head tilts with exaggerated thoughtfulness and from behind mingi, hongjoong and wooyoung cackle while the others look on with smirks, having caught on to exactly what you are doing.

“no, the rainbow unic…” he mumbles, voice growing increasingly softer with each syllable until his mouth is simply opening and closing.

you look at him with faux apologeticness and furrow your brows, “sorry? i didn’t quite catch that.”

“say it louder, dude,” his tall friend nudges him playfully. you are going to need to find out his name somehow because his is the only one you have yet to figure out, and you have a feeling you and him would get along real good.

“the rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles,” mingi finally gets out. if he were a cartoon character, you would see the rising colour of bright red creep up from under his uniform to the tip of his ears and then to the very roots of his hair.

god forbid a manly man purchase a cutesy pick-me-up drink on a friday night.

you smile brightly and use your cheeriest customer service voice to announce, “one rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles for princess mingi coming right up.”

the boy in front of you is flattered to learn that you know and remember his name but is also twice as horrified by the nickname you have crowned him with. his brain short circuits and his eyes widen at you in panicked masculinity and he shoves his payment across the counter before retreating to the same table in the corner of the store where seonghwa is already seated. if you look closely enough, there is a little wisp of smoke coming out from the top of mingi’s head too as he malfunctions. heh.

the boy whose name you still do not know comes up to the counter next. he jerks his head backwards in the direction of mingi and orders, “could i get the same? that rainbow fairy sparkling unicorn or whatever.” the name is wrong but he gets an a+ for trying so you do not correct him, simply nodding and putting his order into the cash register instead.

then you ask for your own personal gain, “can i get a name for your drink?”

he does not appear to question your intentions nor realise he is the only one you have asked because he is too occupied grinning widely at you, unable to curb his cheeky excitement at the thought of what he is about to say. “yeah, peter parker,” comes his proud answer, quite literally naming his drink.

and that is how you find out that he has the best (read: worst) humour out of all of the boys.

it is frankly right up your alley but you refuse to let him one-up you. instead, you use it to your advantage. you nod, “p.p. for short,” dragging the abbreviated initials out for longer so that it sounds intentionally crude.

“peepee,” wooyoung repeats with unrestrained laughter, high-pitched shrieking that sets off the others as well.

and that is also how you find out that wooyoung has the easiest funny bone to tickle out of all the boys.

p.p.’s eyes glint with delight at the fact that you can both take and dish out your own freak. he leans against the countertop on his elbow, which is a sight to behold with how far he has to stoop down because of his height, and exposes you with no qualms, “it’s yunho, by the way, since you wanted to know my name so badly.” he adds a flirty wink for good measure as his friends ooh like the true teenage boys that they are.

you mirror his mannerisms and bat your eyelashes at him to say, “okay, whatever you say, peepee.”

hongjoong intervenes and shoves yunho aside before the latter can fall in love with you and your wack-ass humour or something. he shoos him away, “go sit at the table,” as if he is sending the taller into the naughty corner.

yunho concedes with his hands raised in mock surrender, walking backwards as he reassures his friend, “don’t worry. you won’t hear a peep-ee out of me.”

your facade cracks and you let out a laugh, which only grows louder when jongho takes the liberty to grab a wrapped straw from the container on your countertop to peg it at yunho’s face. it bounces perfectly off the middle of his forehead and lands on the floor, where seonghwa–bless him–bends down to pick it up. you think he might just be your favourite.

“didn’t know you were into that kind of humour,” hongjoong notes with a tone of amusement.

“oh, there’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” you respond, a hint of flirtatiousness in your words.

fuck being professional. these boys would probably be the last people on earth to ever report you for something like a coquettish comment, and god forbid you want to flirt with a couple of really hot guys. the image of hongjoong taking a lazy drag from his cigarette burns at the forefront of your mind as he stares intently into your eyes, and his seeming nonchalance to his own charm only makes him that much more attractive.

he raises an eyebrow, “is that a challenge?”

“only if you’re up for it,” you respond coyly.

san coughs and interrupts, “not to be a cockblock, but can you flirt after we order our drinks.”

the boy in front of you rolls his eyes, pairing it with a loving middle finger at his friend. however, he moves over anyway, half mumbling that he is not going to get a drink. his spot at the counter is immediately snagged by san who mimics yunho’s earlier pose leaning against the surface. “so,” he gives you an overly-smouldering gaze, “tell me something about yourself that i don’t know.”

a bubble of mirth rises from out of your chest and san drops the act utterly pleased with himself. you humour him, though only partially, by revealing, “the desserts here are actually really good. i love the cookies.”

“which one’s your favourite?”

you point to one of the cookies in the second row of the display counter. “the biscoff and peanut butter fudge.”

one of his beautiful brows raises upwards as if to ask why the cookie name is so normal. you give him a miniscule shrug. beats me. he shakes his head with a slight chuckle then requests, “i’ll have one of each cookie and one of each donut that you’ve got.” your eyes bug out of your head because that is a fuckton of cookies and donuts, but san reassures you they all have caves for stomachs.

you get started on their drinks then slide the glass doors open to pull their desserts out, only to realise that yeosang has lingered close by to watch you. he is not wearing his uniform today, instead in a tracksuit like the others but in white. he looks good in that colour and you tell him such, “your tracksuit looks good.”

“thanks,” he replies easily, “wooyoung shoplifted it for me.”

your jaw drops at his sudden confession, too taken aback to appropriately school your expression in time even if you should not really be too surprised by their shenanigans. at your obvious stupor, yeosang’s stoic face breaks immediately and he reveals, “just kidding, hehe.” despite his joke, he blushes to the very tip of his ears like rudolph but elf style and rushes away.

you are left dumbfounded in a good way. one day, you are going to teach yeosang a thing or two about confidence because his uncanny ability to keep a straight face whilst saying the most out-of-left-field thing when it is least expected then leaving the other person wondering whether he is being genuine or only joking is top-tier humour–he just needs to learn how to own it.

you are also left wondering whether there is a single sane soul in this friendship group. you still hold some hope for seonghwa and maybe san, but who knows.

when their drinks and spread of desserts are ready, you expect them all to leave like they did last week. except this time they drag two circular tables closer together in the far corner of the store that they seem hellbent on claiming as their spot, where they then lay out all of the desserts across the joint surface. you watch from behind the counter. there is both a sense of systematic order and chaotic mess to the way they take a bite out of a cookie or donut, nod enthusiastically at how good it tastes whilst shoving it into the face of somebody else, who will in turn take a bite and join in on the enthusiastic nodding and moan an affirmative that it is good.

“wait, this donut is fucking fire,” you hear, and, “this cookie is The Shit, bro.”

they are sort of really fucking cute; boys you would expect to see loitering in alleyways with cigs in their mouths and sneaking into clubs with fakes to pop pills, instead sitting hunched over on cute plastic stools around rickety circular tables sharing sweet desserts like they are at a tea party.

wooyoung catches your gaze over the top of jongho’s head and he gets up instantly to drag you out from behind your counter. all of your warbled protests go unheard as he pulls you by one of your loose apron ties–his strangely endearing way of being respectful not to actually touch you–towards their tables whilst refuting, “there’s nobody else in here but us.”

that is how you find yourself squashed between seonghwa and jongho, your shoulders and thighs touching from close proximity.

“try this blueberry lemon cookie,” seonghwa offers from beside you the moment you sit down, extending the treat for you to take a bite from.

mingi so helpfully reminds, “she literally works here.”

seonghwa shushes him, “yeah, but she probably hasn’t tried everything on the menu.”

he is not wrong. you may have the appetite, but you do not have the physical stomach to try an entire serving of each dessert available in the shop, even if you were to try one per shift. now that the opportunity has handed itself to you on a silver platter, you are not going to refuse. plus, you do not think that you could ever bring yourself to say no when seonghwa is holding the cookie out with both hands so eagerly.

he is definitely your favourite.

you take a tentative bite out of the cookie and eight pairs of shiny eyes do not leave yours until you give them an affirmative and enthusiastic nod at its taste. all flurry of activity starts up again as they continue to trade desserts with those sitting beside them and across the circle. it feels like you are suddenly back in primary school, sharing your snacks out of your lunch box and trading sandwiches with your friends. they include you easily in both taste-testing and conversation, filling your usually quiet shift with antics and laughter.

it has always been a perk that you do not get many customers, but now more so than ever, you hope that nobody comes in for the remainder of your shift–or at the very least, not until the boys leave. in just two meetings, they have all grown on you in their own ways and you kind of want this to become a regular thing. you could definitely get used to this.

despite their appearances and rough-around-the-edges personalities, they are really just a bunch of boys living their life to the fullest in the diabetic form of bubble tea, loaded cookies and glazed donut runs in the middle of a random night.

and honestly? if you had a group of friends like them, you would too.

yunho’s eyes narrow fiercely at the couple who are walking along the footpath outside the perimeter of your shop, daring them to step in through the doors. his glare is not needed though–the very sight of what is going down inside is more than enough for their eyes to widen and for the man to hastily pull his girlfriend away.

“oh look, there goes another two potential customers,” hongjoong notes with sarcastic dismay. “i wonder why people are always in such a hurry to leave.”

yunho blinks his murderous intent away and faces you with round, innocent eyes as you roll your own and cross your arms. your insides wilt at the loss of potential revenue but only by a tad, because whatever business they boys scare off, they make up for several times over. you state as a matter-of-factly, “maybe it has something to do with jongho.”

said boy currently stands about three feet away from you, his arms raised and fists clenched threateningly as the rest of the boys surround the both of you in a circle of sorts as if they are about to witness a bloody fistfight. you suppose it does not look too far from the truth–you are about to get punched in the face.

jongho shrugs dismissively, “it’s not my fault other people aren’t interested in learning how to get knocked out by a sucker punch safely.”

“i don’t think any of those words should go together in a single sentence,” you tell him honestly, unimpressed.

“they normally don’t,” jongho’s mouth ticks up, “which is exactly why you’re learning.”

you cannot win against him or any of them. last week it had been learning how to pop a dislocated shoulder back into place, the week before it had been how to dislocate a shoulder, and then the week before that it had been how to reverse-jump a person if they were chasing you into an alleyway.

it has become an ingrained part of your weekly routine for the boys to rock up during your friday night shift, order half the menu, hang around for hours where you usually join them, then leave until the next week rolls around again. but these random tutorials have only just recently become a new routine within your pre-existing routine.

it all started when wooyoung snuck behind your counter one night while your back was turned to make their drinks and decided it would be hilarious to scream in your face as you turned around. you had jerked backwards so hard that you knocked over the entire stack of blender jars, which toppled over into the dirty sink one after the other like noisy dominoes. seonghwa had made wooyoung personally clean and stack them all again as punishment, but the damage had been done and hongjoong had declared that you would not survive in the real world if a little fright like that could make your butthole pucker right back up into your own intestinal system.

and so had begun your weekly crash courses on survival instincts because according to them, you had none. you had refused to submit to their antics at first, but then yeosang had pointed out, “it’s true. wooyoung was standing behind you like a creep for a full five minutes and you didn’t even notice.” san had also threatened that they would not order anything until you complied each week.

“that’s not fair,” you had complained petulantly. “i just won’t serve you guys at all then.”

san had given you a cheshire grin. “you wouldn’t. we’re like, eighty percent of the total revenue you make during your shift.”

that shuts you up real quick and san knows, so you have no choice but to give in to whatever tomfoolery they choose to teach you for that week. if it is learning to ‘get knocked out by a sucker punch safely’, then so be it.

“okay, i’m all set to be punched in the future,” you declare dryly as jongho reigns in his fist after a pretend swing at your temple, “are you guys going to order now?”

hongjoong nods like he is the little leader of this delinquent gang, but jokes on him because they follow behind you to gather in front of the counter in a single file of sorts with practiced ease, an endearingly crooked line of ducklings. you know right off the bat that it means they already know what they want to order because other times they will come together as pairs or even triplets so that they can umm and ahh over the menu together.

you do not think you can ever take them seriously as proper delinquents–if they even count as such.

as if to prove your point even further, mingi throws up double gang signs and makes a poor attempt to rap, “i want an emineminem,” and when seonghwa not-so-subtly pinches his elbow, he adds on, “please.”

you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing as your hands automatically move to input his order into the register, long past familiar with what his order truly means; mysterious mermaid magic, because the alliteration of the name ‘m and m and m’ sounds the same as the rapper’s name twice. go figure. you do not know if ‘emineminem’ is worse, or, as san calls it whilst flexing his biceps, ‘the merman’.

the boys have a shockingly terrible incapacity to remember the names on the menu correctly, but it is also partially due to the fact that they could give less than zero fucks about them. they will either say what they think the name is, or what they think the name should be.

they make the rules. you simply follow.

the first time it happened was during their third time at the store. “yo, give me a triple b,” jongho had confidently ordered.

“a fuckin’ what?” you were positive you were having a stroke.

“a triple b,” he had tried again, frowning at how you did not automatically understand him. “the big butterfly bus or somethin’.”

you could not take him seriously. “big butterfly bus? what are they gonna do after hopping on? go to fucking school?” you had jested. “also, you can’t just make up your own name and expect me to–you know what, sure.”

it sort of becomes a game. you will roll over in your grave before admitting it, but it is sort of fun to hear an absolutely rubbish string of words–or letters–come out of their mouths for you to then follow their ridiculous train of thought backwards to work out what the actual drink is. the silly boys with their silly names kind of grow on you.

and you may or may not indulge them a little too much. they are the first to try any new items on the menu, even when they are still technically not meant to be available to the general public. but when they pounce on whatever you present to them on the table like puppies and fresh kibble, it is very hard not to keep doing so. which is exactly why you bring out the batch of cupcakes you had made earlier specifically for them to taste.

they look like normal vanilla-frosted cupcakes, except when you bite into them, there is a dark chocolate cookie inside the base. it is the perfect mix of soft and chewy, and when the gooeyness is maximised by slightly warming the dessert up, it is–

“fucking fire, bro,” yunho says around a mouthful, blatantly ignoring the dirty look that seonghwa shoots him for talking with food in his mouth.

yeosang inspects the cookie at the core. “have you named it yet?”

you do not get a say in what the menu items are named and they always do in fact already have a name by the time the boys get to try them. regardless, you answer, “not yet,” because they love the power trip they get when they have creative liberty over your store’s products.

“i have an idea,” wooyoung pipes up immediately. “the frosted ultimate cookie cupcake.” then in a falsetto voice, he role-plays by himself, “hi, could i get a fucc please?”

mingi snorts himself silly and continues, “actually, could you give me two fucks?”

you oblige, “fuck you, and double fuck you,” flashing your middle finger at wooyoung first then mingi second to punctuate the fucks you are gifting them.

the boys snicker at your crudeness, absolutely delighted. not the type to let any opportunity to swear go by, the rest of them join in as san yanks you down to sit at the table with them before you can roll your eyes and walk away.

and out of all moments, it is this exact moment, when you are surrounded by the eight of them throwing out colourful words left and right with the giddy enthusiasm of toddlers, each holding a half-eaten vanilla-frosted cookie cupcake in their hands, that you realise you may actually give a few too many fucks about them…and not just in a friendly way.

well. fuck.

when you get a call on friday morning from your branch manager the following week, your immediate thought is that somebody finally chanced upon watching the store’s security footage and you have been caught making friends with delinquent customers and literally feeding them with business secrets. except when you pick up and tentatively greet him, he starts to say something that is arguably just as bad.

“i need you to swap shifts with gayoung. she can’t work this tuesday night so i need you to cover that day ‘cause there’s nobody else available,” he informs. “gayoung will cover your shift tonight instead.”

you are still trying to process his words as you repeat, “tonight?”

“yes, so you won’t need to go into work tonight.”

your heart skips a beat. for the first time in your life, you find yourself asking, “can’t i take both shifts?”

“no, you can’t. sorry,” your manager apologises but he does not sound sorry at all.

you have never voluntarily taken up extra night shifts, much less asked to take up additional shifts. yet, there is a heavy sense of disappointment that simultaneously settles itself deep inside your stomach and lodges itself in your throat, because it is friday today and friday night is for your boys. you do not even have a way of letting them know that you will not be in tonight.

you wonder if they will notice your absence and whether they will care. after all, you may just be somebody who happens to work at the bubble tea shop they frequent. but it turns out that they do and turns out you are not.

“where were you?”

those are the first words that are thrown at you the moment the boys walk through the door during your friday shift the week after you swapped nights with gayoung. they stomp up to your counter sporting furrowed brows and pressed lips, and if it were not for seonghwa’s soft smile and warm, “we missed seeing you,” you would have thought that they were angry at you.

you can only imagine how terrifying their demeanours would be if they were actually to be angry.

“my manager made me swap shifts with another coworker,” you explain and their expressions soften immediately.

jongho breaks out into a triumphant smirk as he turns to hongjoong with an upturned palm. “i told you. pay up.”

the latter sheepishly pulls out some crumpled notes as you gawk, “you bet on why i wasn’t at work?”

“don’t mind them,” wooyoung waves his hand dismissively. “hongjoong has trust issues–said that you were avoiding us.”

“i would never!” you refute at the same time that hongjoong exclaims, “i did not!”

“either way, fuck your manager. the fucking audacity to take you off our shift?” wooyoung complains.

you try to keep a straight face at the fact that wooyoung has just very casually claimed your shift–and by extension, you–as theirs. you babble the first thing that comes to mind, “the drinks are all made using the same recipe. it doesn’t matter who makes them.”

yunho’s eyes narrow with offense that you would even suggest a thing. “it’s nowhere near the same.” he is not the only one who wants to tell you that as long as it is not you it will never be the same.

their collective thoughts come out instead through mingi, “nobody understands when we order a triple b or an emineminem or a ‘horse drink’.”

“yeah, no shit sherlock,” you fire back, because apparently sarcasm is your automatic defense mechanism when you are flustered, “might help if you call them by their proper names.”

“or maybe the problem is that nobody knows us well enough like you do,” san insists with a wink and in response, yeosang reveals, “we don’t let just anybody get close to us.”

you joke before you can truly think your words through, “sounds like a you problem then.”

“you’re right,” hongjoong banters easily with smugness.

your nervous fidgeting as you tap useless buttons on the screen of your register gives you away despite your attempts to stay collected. they chuckle and it is difficult not to crumble under their unwavering gazes because it is obvious they can see right through your facade. but can anybody really blame you when you had not been expecting them to reciprocate your feelings of interest, much less admit to it so easily and straightforwardly?

in a last ditch attempt to regain some control over the conversation, you ask, “so, what do you guys want to order?”

from day one, the boys have surprised you in the most unpredictable ways–eight not-quite-delinquent delinquents with simultaneously calloused fists, pottied mouths and insatiable sweet tooth. today is no exception, and you have a feeling that you should start becoming accustomed to their antics because they are here to stay, especially after today.

“what we want to order?” they look at you with confident flirtatiousness. “your phone number and a date.”

taglist pt. one | apply for taglist

@thecarnivaloflies @ilovekimhongjoong @yuranimous @ppprimary @hwas-housewife 

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[thefrogman]

@distilled-prose

Let me repeat myself, "Placebo trials are an important part of developing vaccines and other medications."

I'll have you know I just watched several videos by people who have taken many college level science courses, so I am now properly educated to respond to your query.

(I also have a brain and am capable of doing quality internet research, but I just wanted you to know I checked with competent science people to make sure I know what I am talking about.)

Here are some study designs that meet your criteria without the need for a placebo...

Active Comparator Trials

The new treatment is compared to an existing standard treatment rather than a placebo.

For example, if they develop a new GLP-1 formulation, they might test it against Ozempic instead of a placebo.

Crossover Trials (Without Placebo)

Each participant receives the standard treatment and the new treatment at different times, serving as their own control. This can be beneficial because you can compare the current standard of care against the new one in the same patient.

Non-Inferiority Trials

This trial makes sure the new medicine is not worse than the current standard of care. This is often used to look for meds with fewer side effects.

A real world example would be testing oral antibiotics against IV antibiotics for bone and joint infections. The failure rate of the oral group was 14.6% and the IV group was 13.2%. They were about the same, so the study concluded oral meds were not inferior.

Historical Control Trials

This compares results from a new treatment group to documented outcomes from past patients trialed using the old treatment.

This is typically done with medications that already have years of trial data. We've been using Prozac since 1987, and it has been tested in myriad studies. So you don't need to have a "Prozac" group in your trial because all of the variables are widely known.

Adaptive Trials

These are "learn-as-you-go" trials. The study design is flexible so researchers can pivot as they learn new things.

This is great if you have very sick or terminal patients in your trial. If you are testing something and you learn the treatment can be more effective with a new dosage or combined with another medication, the patients aren't stuck with the initial treatment protocol.

Real-World Evidence Studies

This is an observational study that uses health records and insurance databases to collect a shitload of real world data for comparison.

This is like if you are testing a new car airbag for safety and you want to compare it to the effectiveness of other airbags. You could look at the crash tests of other airbags (Historical Control Trials), but there is actually a lot more real world data on them in actual use.

Sometimes lab tests can't account for everything in real world conditions, so you dig up accident reports and look at insurance claims to see how old airbags fared in accidents.

And then you compare your new fancy airbag to that preponderance of information.

Delayed-Treatment Design

This is where everyone gets the trial drug, but they delay treatment for some of the trial groups. Then they can compare early outcomes to new outcomes.

Everyone gets the treatment while still being able to compare the results.

_________________

I think that about covers it.

All of these approaches have been tried and tested and successful without a placebo.

I don't like metaphors involving the skinning of cats, so I'm just going to say...

There is more than one way to bake a cake.

In fact, there are at least 311,040 ways to bake a cake.

I will reiterate, double blind placebo trials are fantastic. They are probably the gold standard for brand new meds for non-life-threatening conditions and nothing to compare to. No one is saying placebo trials are bad or shouldn't ever be used.

But researchers are pretty smart. And they have developed many workflows to test the safety and efficacy of medical treatments. If you want to do "science" then trust the scientific specialists who actually develop these protocols.

If RFK Jr. is truly unsatisfied with the effectiveness of medical trials, he should put together a panel of research experts and ask them to assess study designs to make sure they are safe and reliable. He should not be making random declarations about how *he* thinks research should be done. By his own admission, he is not a doctor or a healthcare specialist. He isn't a medical researcher and does not have the experience to decide anything with confidence.

Like, if he said, "Can we do a study to see if more placebo trials would be beneficial?" And then he hired competent researchers to figure that out... that would be "doing science."

But I think he would discover that medical researchers have been developing these workflows for decades and they have gotten pretty good at it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to sign up for a college level P.E. class so I can win a square dancing competition.

I was trying to think of a way to explain why this is stupid and also ghoulish. I think I came up with something.

Imagine you are an engineer designing body armor. You are tasked with making sure the body armor can stop 10 different types of bullets. In your first attempt, you create body armor that stops 6 of the 10 bullets. You start selling those because that's pretty good protection. You can save some lives while you continue to improve things.

You already know how to stop 6 bullets, but you really want to figure out how to stop the last 4. So you do exactly what you did before, but add a few more layers of Kevlar and a steel plate.

Your boss, RFK Jr., says he wants a test of the new and improved body armor. But he says you have to give one test subject the real thing and the other test subject fake body armor that does nothing.

And you're like, "Hey, can I at least give them the body armor that stops 6 bullets? We already know that gives some protection. We only need to compare the new armor to what we already accomplished."

And RFK says, "No, please shoot a person dead. It's science."

[nejiverse]

‘FLYING OBJECTS’ AND THEIR BIG MOUTHS..

Kinich, Ifa

In which Ajaw and Cacucu reveal all their partners’ hidden feelings. Fem! Reader

cw: kissing, hope they arent ooc🥹

1104 words

Y/n was walking a good few steps ahead of Kinich and Ajaw, humming a tune Kinich couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he would soon find out that was the least of his worries.

Ajaw, who was always looking for something to pester Kinich about, noticed how the male threw multiple side glances at Y/n's retreating figure.

At this, a sly grin spread across his face.

"Oho what's this?", Ajaw echoed suddenly, loud enough to make a few qucusauri frantically scatter.

"Is our proud warrior tripping over his own feet just watching her walk?!".

Kinich rolled his eyes and swatted ajaw away but to no surprise he came right back.

What he said wasnt completely off the mark, but it wasnt just her walk. It was her posture, the way she carried herself, and most especially the way she would quickly glance back to make sure they werent too far behind, accompanied with that small smile that if interpreted into words would say 'im glad youre still there'.

Kinich would find himself counting down the minutes until she would give him another quick glance.

"I'm not, now stop annoying me", he scoffed.

"You so are! I'm telling Y/n~", he sang as he made his way to her side before Kinich could even attempt to grab him.

Kinich swore to himself that after today, Ajaw would never see the light of day again as he hurried to catch up to the two, now only a few steps behind the girl.

"I will end you", he mouthed as to not attract Y/n's attention but Ajaw was unfazed.

Being by Y/n's side gave Ajaw confidence to say whatever he wanted. After all, Kinich would never do anything rash in front of her.

"Honestly, it's adorable", the dragon lord mocked. "If you write Y/n a poem i'm absolutely reading that out loud!", he snickered.

Y/n laughed at Ajaw's antics. "A poem you say?", Y/n turned around now walking backwards. "If you write me one I expect a dramatic delivery! Bonus points if you pathetically cry halfway through", she teased.

Kinich folded his arms. "If I were to write a poem it’d be about someone who steals my food and calls it bonding".

He didnt miss a step, but inwardly he was pleading ajaw wouldnt take it further than he already had.

"See? he hates me!", Y/n frowned. “And it’s not stealing...its tactical aquiring..".

"Actually, lover boy over here has a huuuuge crush on you!".

"Quit it ajaw—", after he saw Kinich's hand coming out to grab him, he swiftly manoeuvred to Y/n's other shoulder.

"Like a trip-over-your-own-feet, cant-look-her-in-the-eye, i-hope-she-doesnt-think-im-being-too-cold kind of crush!".

Y/n stopped in her tracks and closed what little distance was between them, her eyes meeting his own. "Really?".

Kinich was quick to avert his gaze.

"You know how Ajaw can be—"

He was cut off when her hand combed back the hair at his ears, a red tint now coating them.

They two had known each other for a long time, she knew all his tells.

He grunted in embarrassment, eyebrow twitching involuntarily.

Y/n placed her hands at either side of his face ultimately forcing them to make eye contact.

"Is it true Kinich? Your answer will determine what I do next".

What should he do? Just say no and play it off as ajaw being a nuisance? Or maybe not answer at all? Or—

"..yes", he said at last, gritted and honest. "It’s true".

And without another word, she placed a kiss on his lips.

Ajaw huffed. "Bleh. so much for light teasing and tragic denial".

Y/n was helping out Ifa with the saurians when Cacucu blurted. "Yo, bro Ifa has a crush".

Ifa nearly choked on air, internally cursing Citlali.

It was only yesterday, after Citlali had figured him out that he went home muttering to himself and had no idea Cacucu could hear him. "I have a crush on Y/n? How could she even know that?”.

He noted to himself to keep his schizophrenia in his head.

Ifa ran a hand through his hair. "That was supposed to stay between me and the cold side of the clinic tent Cacucu..". And also Citlali but that part was against his will.

Y/n perked up like a tepetlisaurus. "Wait—hold on. Hold on. You have a crush? On who? I wanna know!".

Ifa pointed a finger at Cacucu. "Just so you know, you’re banned from talking until moulting season".

"Ifa has a crush on Y/n!". Why cacucu kept going was beyond Ifa, he felt simply betrayed.

"Cool, love that for me", he muttered with a dry voice.

"Wait..me?", she pointed at herself in disbelief.

Ifa had a lopsided grin. "Yeah its you. Obviously. I mean, you’re out here tending to saurians with me, laughing at my awful jokes, making the hatchlings fall asleep with your voice, and im just supposed to not feel something?".

The pair's conversation was cut short when Ororon bursted into the clinic blabbering about how he messed up and how Citlali was gonna kill him.

So a short while later when the noise had settled down and Ifa and Y/n had finished up for the day, the two sat down against a tree, the last stretch of Natlan’s sunlight making its final appearance.

"Sorry about earlier", Ifa rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm just so used to fixing things, not feeling them", he admitted.

Y/n gave him a reassuring smile. "Well you're doing okay so far", she nodded. "And besides, it adds to your boyish charm", she teased.

Ifa chuckled softly. "Yeah?".

"Yeah".

There's a pause — soft, steady. The kind of silence that feels like it's holding its breath.

Ifa studied her face like he's still not sure he's allowed to want this. His fingers brushed up along her wrist, feather-light, as he leaned in just a little closer.

"...Can I?", he said with a low voice, almost unsure.

He raised up his hand, careful, fingers curling just under her chin to tilt her face up. His gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips.

"You're really asking? After all that?".

She laughed softly, and the sound is so gentle it tugs something loose in his chest. Her hand moved to cover his, holding it in place under her chin. "You better."

And that's all he needs.

If only she knew how long he had been waiting to do that.

masterlist :)

[talksungchan]

strangers who knew each other very well 𐙚 jung sungchan

༄.° WORD COUNT: 18.6k ༄.° PAIRING: riize's jung sungchan x female!reader ༄.° TAGS & WARNINGS: exes!au, angst, fluff, slightly aged up riize ༄.° SONGSPO: scott street - phoebe bridgers ; woojooin - seo youngju ; spring into summer - lizzy mcalpine

༄.° SYNOPSIS: you're back in town for the first time in four years because your best friend is getting married. it sounds easy enough, apart from the fact that you broke the best man's heart 4 years ago and haven't dared shown your face since. ༄.° NOTES: inspired by hong sijun and son jua from melo movie aka my all time favourite k-drama second couple !! the title comes from the episode that focuses on them in the drama <3 this is kinda similar to my other second chance romance sungchan fic, but i think i wrote it differently enough to be a worthwhile separate fic :>

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

i. anyway, don't be a stranger

You knew this day was coming, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

The train screeches to a halt and the passengers around you get up in a buzz to collect their belongings and crowd around the double doors.

You watch stoically as they step out of the train for an adventure in the big city or to return to their busy lives. You stay still, clutching your carry-on suitcase and just wait, maybe even until you're kicked off the train.

Seoul Station is the last stop on the route, but you're in half a mind to jump platforms and get on the next train going to somewhere you hoped was far away from here.

"Ma'am," you hear a voice call out to you kindly and you turn to face a young woman with a slightly concerned look on her face, "Is this your stop? The train ends here."

You blink, "Yeah, it is. Sorry- I'll get going."

"Have a good day," she wishes you sweetly, but you know that's a luxury you will find hard to come by these days.

You pry your large suitcase from the luggage compartment and step out into the station.  You're still underground, but it hurts like no other to finally step foot in your home for the first time in years. Breathing this air doesn't feel refreshing; it feels like you're suffocating.

Sluggishly, you navigate the maze that was the station until you surface to the public area. You're not that familiar with the place anymore; it's been a long time, but you make it up to where you had arranged to meet your best friend, finding her already there.

"My Y/N," Hana envelops you into a tight, warm hug as soon as she lays eyes on your solemn face, "How are you?"

"I'm good, Hana," you reassure her as best as you could muster.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't get you from the airport," she apologises as she pries your luggage out of your grip, "Taro had the car, but he's on his way to pick us up outside."

You faintly remember her saying something about last minute wedding errands he had to run that precluded your best friend being able to pick you up herself off the plane.

"I could have made it to your house by myself," you chide, "I used to live here, after all."

Hana's smile falters for a second at your voluntary mention of the past, but she brushes you off, "I wanted to welcome you back."

You notice her avoidance of the word home and you're thankful because a reminder of what was once a happy memory has turned into the opposite is something you've been trying to forget.

She leads you out of the busy station and to a pick-up zone outside. It's a sweltering summer day with the sun beating down relentlessly. It's something you haven't missed about Seoul after trading your extreme weathers for the grey skies across the world.

"Look, Y/N," Hana begins hesitantly as you watch the cars zoom past you, "Thank you for coming all the way here and doing this for me. I know it's gonna be hard for you, but I'm still here for you, okay?"

You knock shoulders lightly, "What kind of a best friend would I be if I missed your wedding? We've been planning our weddings since we learned what one was."

Hana chuckles lightly, mind flashing back to the days you spent designing wedding dresses and choosing songs for your wedding playlists, "I know right?"

You fall into silence as you both reminisce. Everyone thought you were going to get married first. You always wanted to get married young, ever since you met your first love at 14 and started dating at 16. You had everything you wanted planned out- the cake, the flowers, the shoes, the gifts, the groom.

Life doesn't always work out the way you want it to- you learned that at 22.

"I'm an adult, Han," you exhale, "I promise it'll all be okay. I can do this."

"You're the best, Y/N. I really missed you, by the way," Hana admits as her eyes lock onto a car.

It's only been 7 months since you last saw each other, but you spent the first 22 years of your lives practically conjoined until you moved away 4 years ago. You'll never forget the shock and joy you experienced when she turned up at your door alone out of nowhere with a rock on her finger and a gift box asking you to be her maid of honour for her wedding set in 7 months time.

"I missed you too," you return fondly.

A large, black car stops in front of you and the window rolls down to reveal a face you haven't seen in a while.

"If it isn't the Y/N back in Seoul," Shotaro flashes you his famous smile from the driver's side. You wave at him excitedly and drag your bags to the boot that he's opened from the inside. It's a busy road and he can't hop out and help, but between you and Hana, you fit the bags into the spacious boot. It's not even that much- you've only packed to stay two weeks.

You climb into the backseat and Shotaro turns around to take in the fact that you're really here. You reach over to squeeze his shoulder, "I haven't got to say congratulations in person yet, so congratulations on the wedding. You bet that we're going to have another best friend talk soon."

Shotaro and Hana choke in surprise at your menacing words. The Japanese man crinkles his eyelids in amusement, "I wouldn't have expected anything less, but thank you Y/N."

When they started dating years ago, you had cornered Shotaro at a house party and warned him so terrifyingly about what you would do if he ever broke your best friend's heart that he couldn't look you in the eye for the rest of the week. It was fair anyway, considering the talk your own best friend had given your first love when you started dating.

The drive to their house was a fair journey that you spent with your eyes screwed tight pretending to be asleep. You couldn't bare the thought of having to look out the window and catch the familiar streets you had grown up on and made so many memories on. This trip was always going to end in heartbreak for you, but you wish to delay the onset.

Hana calls your name softly when you arrive and you do a slow-blink to try to convince her. You don't know if she believes it, but she doesn't say anything otherwise.

It's weird that you haven't stepped foot in her adult home after you made her childhood home your second one and lived in the same apartment through your college years. You can still picture her teenage bedroom with the pink walls and the Fin.K.L poster across her double bed. You spent hours and hours in your college rooms eating ice cream and watching films together. Now, you don't even know the number outside her door.

"Welcome to our humble abode," Hana smiles proudly as she unlocks the front door.

They live in a very nice area, afforded by Shotaro's idol choreographer salary and Hana's lawyer income. It's obviously a beautiful home, decorated very cosy with sprinkles of their personality dotted around.

They show you to the guest bedroom and point out all the items Hana prepared for your two week stay in the house, despite the fact that in ten days' time, they were jetting off to their honeymoon the morning after the wedding. She had put together an adorable and thoughtful welcome basket with everything you might need and your heart clenches at the kindness of your best friend.

Over these years, Hana has been patient in coming to you versus you coming to her. Your blatant refusal to come back to Korea has limited your live meet-ups to once a year, twice if you could find some wiggle room in your budgets, but her wedding meant you couldn't put it off any longer and had to face your fears.

While Hana was your best friend, Shotaro had his own best friend acting as his best man. You always knew this was coming- even from the moment you introduced your best friend to your first love's best friend in freshman year of college.

He wasn't the only reason you were avoiding coming back, but he was the main one. You'd like to think that time heals all and maybe it has, or maybe it's just shoved that little pocket of pain deeper and deeper out of sight until the day you finally are forced to face it. Unfortunately for you, that day has come.

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

Hana was kind enough to give you the night to settle before everything kicked into full force. She knew it would be too much for you to get off the plane and have to face your ex-boyfriend, so she pushed the meeting that required both of you as much as she could until there was no time left.

You woke up bright and early, although your stomach was in ropes at the thought of seeing him again. You hoped that the very long list of errands you had to do would distract you enough from all the emotions swirling in your stomach.

It was only 1pm, but you had already visited the bridal shop to do a fitting of your maid of honour dress, considering you couldn't try it on when you were over 5000 miles away. Thankfully, it didn't need a lot of alterations and you could pick it up in the next few days. She continued distracting you by trying on her wedding dress in front of you, causing you to shed a few tears. You were virtually present during her dress hunt, but seeing it for the first time in person really made it sink in that your very best friend in this world was getting married.

The very next thing in your agenda was a meeting with the wedding planner to finalise the timings of the day. You were going to meet at a café- a safe and public space for you to finally see your ex-boyfriend after a number of years that you wished you stopped counting.

Hana parks her car along the road opposite the café and the second you stepped out the car, you were slapped across the face by the side-profile of your first love through the large window, a wide smile on his features as he chatted with his best friend.

Hana squeezes your hand, "Tell me if it gets too much. I know it's gonna be hard."

Sungchan looks so familiar that your heart squeezes at the sight of him. It's the body that you fell asleep across for years on end, the hair you used to run your fingers through when you talked late at night, the smile that made your heart race every day- it was still him.

Your breath hitches when he begins to turn in your direction. Before you can make eye contact, Hana tugs at you to enter the café, murmuring reassurances towards you that she was going to be here for you- even at her own wedding events, she was still being selfless.

"Hana, Y/N," Shotaro calls the two of you over as soon as the door jingles open and he spots you, "I ordered your drinks."

Hana squeals at the sight of the indulgent hot chocolates, but worriedly looks over at you to see your reaction. You're looking down at your feet and Sungchan is staring straight up at you.

"Hey, Sungchan. How are you?" Hana chuckles awkwardly, tugging you to her side to sit down at the round table. When the wedding planner arrives, they'd sit between you and Sungchan, so you could have that distance.

"Good, Hana, thanks," he breaths out as the corners of his mouth drop, "Hi, Y/N. It's been a while."

Your eyes shoot up to meet his, "Uhm, yeah. Hi, Sungchan."

It feels like you haven't said that name out loud in years- it brought you too much pain before. You're immediately saved by the wedding planner, thankfully, who appears out of nowhere and apologises profusely for her delay. She denies ordering a coffee, and begins to spread binder, papers and tablets all over the table.

Hana squeezes your hand under the table and your eyes point down to your thighs.

"Maid of honour and best man, I take it? It's nice to meet you both," the planner Jian smiles sweetly after catching her breath, "How'd you guys know the couple?"

You nod with a terse smile, "Childhood best friends."

Sungchan lets you finish before he bumps shoulder with Shotaro, "College roommates. We've been attached at the hip ever since."

"Looking forward to your speeches on the day then," she muses, "Shall we get started?"

You focus your efforts into concentrating through the meeting and trying to not let the pit growing in your stomach distract you. You were here to help out your best friend and her soon-to-be husband, so you gave your opinion when you felt it necessary and not much more.

You haven't been physically present through the past few months, but Hana had clued you in to everything she was doing as it was happening. You'd been discussing your dream days for years on end, so you felt like you had good opinions for the final touches of the plan.

After two hours going through every single detail, you wrapped up and Hana was beginning to talk about what she was going to cook for dinner.

"We have some salmon in the freezer, I think. That's enough for the three of us," she links arms with you as soon as you stand up, practically dragging you out of the store to avoid any more time alone with your ex-boyfriend.

"I was gonna go home after this, remember? My parents are unfortunately expecting me," you remind her regrettably. It's been a while since you saw your family- maybe a year now?

"Oh. Do you want me to come? I can drive you! I haven't seen your parents in a long time-"

You hear a cough behind you, "I'm heading that way actually. It's my dad's birthday soon so we're gonna have a meal at home. I can take you, but only if you're comfortable with that."

Sungchan's confident and unwavering tone freezes you on the spot, your eye moving to the side to gauge your best friend's reaction. Her eyes transform into sorrow as she presses her lips together. Hana looks at Sungchan, "It's okay, I can take her. I want to."

It makes sense why Sungchan would offer a lift practicality-wise. His family lived on the next road over from your house and you used to walk to school together after he moved to your school at 14.

Shotaro sighs behind Sungchan, "Hana, we still have that Zoom meeting with the venue co-ordinators. It's in like 40 minutes."

Hana curses under her breath, "Well then I'm sure Y/N will be fine taking the subway. Right?"

You're looking down at your feet, unable to even see the expression on Sungchan's face. You don't know his motivation to offer you a ride 45 minutes across the city to your old neighbourhood, and as pure as you know his heart is, you genuinely don't know how you could cope sitting in a confined space with your first love for that amount of time.

In the corner of your eyes, you see him shrug nonchalantly, "Whatever's easiest for you. See you guys soon."

You lift your head up in time to watch him wave goodbye and turn around. His face is seemingly neutral, but you hadn't spent 8 years of your life learning everything there was to possibly know about him to not be able to read the emotions behind his eyes at the very moment.

"Wait, Sungchan," you slip out of your friend's grasp, "I'll come with you."

Hana catches your wrist and hisses under her breath, "Y/N, what? Are you sure about this?"

You try to give her a convincing smile, "I'll text you when I'm coming back, okay? I don't think I'll be too late anyway."

Shotaro waves you off with a puzzled glance and you do a small jog to catch up to the distance he traversed with his long legs.

Sungchan gives you a half smile and shoves his hands into his pocket, "What made you change your mind?"

You nibble on your lower lip, "It's about to be rush hour on the subway. It'll be impossible to get a seat."

Sungchan nods at your response and points out his car across the street. It's a lot nicer and newer than the car he used to take you around Seoul in. You wondered briefly when he got rid of it.

Wordlessly, you enter into the passenger side, buckling your seatbelt and trying to keep your eyes trained in front of you. If you thought too much about the situation you put yourself in, you feared you might jump out of the moving car.

He turned on the radio to a quiet, but comfortable volume. A new song that's dominating the charts is playing as he reverses out of his spot and joins the cars on the roads.

"When did you get back?" Sungchan reluctantly begins.

You were hoping for a silent car ride, but you knew that was just in your dreams, "Yesterday evening."

"How was your flight?"

"Long. It's about 13 hours straight in the air," you hum.

"Is it? Wouldn't know- I've never been to London," it's not obvious, but there's something deeper that you can't figure out in his tone- is it snide? Snark?

"The climate's quite different over there," you reply back shortly, "It was hard to get used to."

"There must have been something you loved there so much that it kept you away for 4 years," he says, "Or something you hate here."

You swallow nervously, "Can we not do this, Sungchan?"

He scoffs, "When will we ever?"

"Is it necessary? I thought we said what we needed to say back then," you huff, letting your eyes flutter close in frustration. You should've known this wasn't going to be an amicable ride- that that disappointment in his eyes when he was walking away wasn't something to latch onto and hope, "I'm only here for 2 weeks. Can we just be civil until their wedding? That's what I'm here for."

"So even after 4 years, you have nothing to say to me?" his voice cracks in the most delicate way and if you looked to the side, you'd see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel tightly.

"What do you want me to say, Sungchan?" you sigh in defeat.

"I don't know, Y/N," he runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly, "Do you regret it? Leaving?"

Your heart constricts in your chest as you shook your head, "I can't."

"What?"

"I can't regret leaving. Otherwise everything I did it for and did there becomes nothing," you confess, "I shouldn't."

Sungchan exhales a puff of air into the car, "This is gonna be so much harder than I thought it would be."

You agree silently and don't say another word for the whole drive.

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ii. and i can wish all that i want, but it won't bring us together

Shotaro and Hana decided to forgo the traditional bachelor and bachelorette parties. They themselves were far too busy for that, let alone thinking about the time and effort it would take to coordinate 6+ people on each side to do an activity or vacation. Plus, on Hana's side, some of her bridesmaids weren't all too familiar with each other having come from different periods of her life, so she didn't think that cooping all of you up in a vacation home a week before her wedding was worth her energy. She loved you all separately, but that didn't mean you would all have to be best friends.

Thus, the couple decided on a joint dinner hosted in their home just to get everyone acquainted with each other. You'd spent the afternoon with the other girls picking out jewellery you wanted to all wear for the wedding and returned home to find a spread of food prepared by the private chef the couple hired.

Despite the fact that you were dreading to face Sungchan again after the disastrous ride home, you were also excited to see Shotaro's other groomsmen, who were also old friends of yours from both high school and college.

When you entered their home again after your group shopping trip, you were immediately crushed by a tall figure.

"Y/N-noona," you hear Anton sniff as he hugged you, "Do you still remember me?"

You gasp and let out a nervous chuckle, "Don't be silly- hey Chanyoung. Long time no see, right?"

One of the worst parts about your breakup with Sungchan was having to relinquish your relationship with the boys too. It wasn't that they had to choose sides or anything, but you just thought it was easier for everyone involved. Of course, you still texted them occasionally on birthday, holidays and randomly throughout the year, but you hadn't seen any of them other than Shotaro since the breakup.

"Stop hogging her. We all haven't seen her in four years," Seunghan bumps Anton out of the way to envelop you into a comforting hug, "I almost forgot what you looked like, noona. You don't post on SNS."

"Has anyone entertained the idea that she's actually a British spy now?" Eunseok smirks as he takes his turn hugging you, "Welcome back Y/N."

Before Shotaro came into the picture in college, Eunseok and Sungchan were the first package deal. They were the closest in age to one another and were family friends growing up. Eunseok was the reason Sungchan moved to your school when his family relocated to the area. They adopted Shotaro in college and found the other boys along the way.

You've known Eunseok as long as you've known Sungchan and he was one of the ones who took the breakup the hardest out of all of your friends. Hana was your best friend since childhood and Eunseok was Sungchan's- that's when it felt like people had to take sides, no matter how close you also were with Eunseok.

"I missed you guys," you whisper lowly into Eunseok's embrace.

"You should have invited us to London," Sohee sniffles when he takes his turn hugging you. Wonbin joins the two of you in a group hug.

"Well then I'm inviting you now. I'd like to take you to Buckingham Palace so you can see your twins," you joke at Sohee, ruffling his hair, "Bin, how are you?"

"I'm great, noona. Honestly," he smiles softly at you. You've never had the deepest nor most complex relationship with Wonbin, but you take comfort knowing you're both satisfied at the low-maintenance friendship you've formed.

You realise quickly that a member of the wedding party is missing when you spot Shotaro mingling with the bridesmaids. Eunseok seems to read your mind immediately, "Sungchan's in the kitchen."

"Did he tell you?"

"About the car ride?" Eunseok grimaces and you mirror his expression, "Everyone knew this was gonna be hard. Neither of you should force anything or expect anything from yourselves."

You sigh, "I know. Doing that just makes everything worse. Besides, this week is about Taro and Hana. I don't want to draw attention from them or cause any problems that might affect them too."

Eunseok nods understandingly, "I guess so. But just think about yourself okay? That's who should be the most important person to yourself always."

You spot Hana trying to beckon you over, so you excuse yourself from Eunseok and wander over to your best friend, who slides her arm around your waist.

Four out of the 5 other bridesmaids are all her friends from the law firm she began working at since graduation 4 years ago. The other one is her cousin who lives in the opposite end of the country, but who she visited every summer and holidays. You're all around the same age, but you haven't had the chance to meet them or even speak to them outside of the bridesmaid group-chat Hana put you all in 6 months ago until today.

"How's it seeing the boys again?" Shotaro hands you a flute of what you think is a mimosa.

"I missed them," you admit simply with a small smile.

"You went to college with all of them, right?" Taehee questions curiously, "You really haven't seen any of them since you moved to London?"

"Taro and Hana have visited me a few times in London, but that's it," you press your lips together, "It was just a lot of things that stopped me from coming back."

You haven't said anything to the other girls about your ex-boyfriend, mainly because this week was not about you and your finicky relationship, so they're all none-the-wiser to your situation.

"Shall we go over to the dining room?" Hana suggests, sniffing the air when the chef throws open the dining room door and the smell of the food floods out, "I'm so hungry!"

Their usual dining room table has been replaced with a temporary set up for the 13 of you in a large, round table. You stick by Hana's side and immediately take the seat next to her, sighing in relief when Eunseok takes the other seat beside you. You try not to look up, but you practically feel Sungchan's presence in the room when he enters and takes a seat on the other side of the table, flanked by Seunghan and Anton.

When the starter is brought out, you're engaged in a conversation with Eunseok and the bridesmaid beside him about the places you've travelled in Europe. Mina's well-travelled herself and Eunseok is far too fascinated hearing what you've been getting up to since you left.

"Did you visit Paris? You must have," Mina wonders, "It's so close to London- I'd be going every weekend!"

Your heart drops and you swallow, "No, not since I left Korea."

"You've visited before?"

You hold yourself back from looking up, "In the past, just once."

"Isn't it lovely? It's one of my favourite cities in the world," Mina gushes excitedly, "I love art and museums, so Paris is my element!"

You recall back to the summer before your senior year of college and the week you spent running around Paris in the evening, dancing along the Seine and holding your first love under the moonlight. Every time you were invited to Paris since then, something would stop you going- it would only remind you of the most beautiful week you had spent with Sungchan as your anniversary trip.

By the time the entrées arrive, the conversation has moved onto updates from Eunseok- how much his little brother has grown since you last saw him, how his family got an adorable new dog and how his parents are getting older. Your families were friends too, just like Hana's family and Sungchan's family. It's a shame you missed out on so much, but you know it's your fault anyway.

You make it through dinner by ignoring that steady thrum in your veins and the pumping of your heart just being in the same room as the one who haunts your memories, but it becomes harder when the couple moves you into the living room to mingle and chat with flutes of mixed alcohol.

"We actually have a task to do for tonight," Hana smirks slyly as you all turn towards her, "We haven't actually figured out who you're gonna walk down the aisle with."

"We thought it'd be better to choose after seeing who looks good together," Shotaro shrugs, "Height differences and that."

Hana claps her hands definitely, "Okay, everyone just go stand with a partner and then me and Taro will shuffle as we see fit."

You freeze, having not been informed of this by your best friend beforehand. With a glimpse of hope, you tug at Eunseok's sleeve and he looks at you with a confused glance.

Jiwoo frowns at you across the room, "Wait- I get it for the rest of us but the maid of honour and best man are walking down together, right?"

Your face probably mirrors Sungchan's - like a deer caught in headlights as you both begin to chuckle awkwardly.

Hana's eyes widen as she looks at you apologetically, "I suppose so. Though it doesn't have to be."

"It makes most sense that way," Taehee agrees beside Anton.

"Um, then Sungchan and Y/N, you guys can just sit down or help us match," Shotaro quickly splutters out.

Nodding in agreement, you float over to Hana's side again, like two opposite poles on a magnet. She smiles at you sheepishly and you subtly dismiss her. It's her wedding- you just had to suck it up. Sungchan takes a seat away from where you were standing, trying to busy himself on his phone.

In the end, it took an excessive amount of time to decide on the final pairings, made all the more difficult by the absence of the girls' heels that played a part in the decision-making. You had no idea that something so trivial could take up so much of an evening and cause such hilarious tiffs fuelled by wine. 

Hana gasps from the corner, "Wait, where's the camera? I want pictures of everyone for the scrapbook."

Shotaro retrieves a baby blue polaroid camera displayed on their book shelf and loads a new cartridge of film inside. Your heart is beating fast as Hana shoo's each couple against a deemed-aesthetic backdrop and snaps a single, quick photo of the two that prints out in just seconds.

Surely she wouldn't do that to you, right?

But when her head turns towards you and a soft, pleading smile graces her features, you're resigned to standing up and following the orders she's sending telepathically.

"Sungchan, c'mere. I need one of you and Y/N," Hana calls out gently.

Wordlessly, he rises from the spot he's been planted on for the better part of an hour and positions himself beside you, with a good distance separating your shoulders.

Hana raises the camera to her eye, but she clicks her tongue in frustration, "I can't get you both in."

"Just step backwards," Sungchan advises, his tone light, but with an edge.

"I want all the pictures at the same angle," she counters, "Just move a little closer together."

"Y/N won't bite, right?" Mina laughs jokingly, to which you try your best to give a convincing chuckle.

He shuffles a little closer to you, the fabric of your shirts brushing against each other delicately. You're focused on keeping the smile on your face as neutral and natural as possible, silently pleading your best friend with your eyes to hurry up.

She finally counts down and clicks the button, the flash blinding you for a split second. Before you could even fully regain your vision, Sungchan has already traversed the room to join Seunghan and Wonbin nosy through the bookshelf.

Ouch. He really wants nothing to do with you.

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iii. you left me no choice but to stay here forever

Exactly one week before the wedding, Hana bursts into your room with a panicked look.

"What's wrong?" you gasp at her state, scrambling up from the edge of the bed where you were scrolling lazily on your phone.

"Taro forgot to pick up the wedding rings," Hana pants out, clear frustration in her eyes, "The jeweller's going out of town tomorrow."

"Oh!" your own eyes widen, "Do you need me to go pick them up then?"

"Yeah, please! If you can," she smooths out the white dress she was wearing, "I'd do it but it's the opposite direction to where we need to go and we're already running hella late."

You stand up and steady her by her shoulders, "Don't worry about it. That's what I'm here for, yeah? To make your life easier."

Hana relaxes with a sigh of relief and pulls you into a hug, "What would I do without you?"

The couple were off to another one of their endless wedding appointments, which was seemingly going to take up their whole day. It was still just the morning, but Shotaro was running down the stairs already, calling for Hana to get in the car.

"I'll text you the address, okay? I'll also text the jeweller that you'll be coming," she smiles gratefully before disappearing out of the front door.

Instead of buying traditional wedding rings at a famous store, they decided to have their own personal set made that was completely tailor-made and customised for them at a small, local business. You thought it was sweet how they wanted to design the ring that would symbolise their union and love together instead of any old, generic piece of metal.

Taking the subway over to the store wasn't a bad experience- it was a hot walk over to the station, but the carriages were air conditioned and not terribly busy. It's a stark contrast to the hot, cramped and dirty tube of your current home city.

The jeweller's shop is in a part of the city near your old university; you used to frequent the area a lot, so you were experiencing major nostalgia walking the streets again after a long time. You even contemplated visiting your favourite stores and coffee shop after picking up the rings, hoping that taking a trip down memory lane won't hurt you too much.

When you reach the shop, it's empty save a couple sat across an attendant looking at rings together at a table in the corner. At the check-out desk, an older gentleman is polishing a set of gold rings.

"Hi, my name is Y/N! I'm here to pick up the wedding rings for Hana and Shotaro," you inform the man.

His eyes crinkle with a smile, "Ah, you came first. Wait here while I get them. Feel free to take a look around as well."

You frown at his words but dismiss them as you spot the case filled with rings of all styles and metals. There's some engagement rings with dazzling precious stones and intricate bands, but there's also a bunch of unique sets of rings that you assume are ready to sell.

When you were younger, you used to think that you wanted the largest diamond with the most elaborate designs and stones to show off. As you grew older, you realised that you just wanted a ring that would signify the love your other half had for you, no matter the size or price.

Your finger traces along the display case, humming lightly as you evaluate them all and try to guess what Hana and Shotaro's rings would look like. Would they be silver or gold? Would they have diamonds? Would they be engraved?

"Y/N?" the deep voice startles you from behind and you jump on the spot.

You turn, meeting face-to-face with Sungchan. Your heart skips a beat.

"Sungchan, what are you doing here?"

His eyebrows are tugged together in confusion, "Shotaro asked me to pick up the wedding rings."

Your mouth dries, "Ah. Hana asked me to do the same."

"Really? They didn't talk about it?" Sungchan frowns.

"They were in a rush, to be fair," you say awkwardly.

"Oh, okay. Well if you're here, then I guess I'll go," he nods, turning his body towards the door, "See ya."

"Oh, you must be the best man!" the jeweller laughs a full-bellied laugh as he emerges from the back, "Must have been some miscommunication with the bridge and groom as I got two separate messages telling me they each sent someone here."

"Yeah, that's me," Sungchan chuckles, "If I'm not needed then I'll head off."

"Have a look at the rings," the jeweller beckons the two of you over instead to a free desk with chairs on either side, "We'll be shutting the store down tomorrow for a couple of weeks, so inspect and make sure it's all okay. I have some information to pass along to the couple too."

Reluctantly, Sungchan approaches the table with you and takes the plush seat beside you. In another universe, you look just like the other couple in store, grinning at each other with lovestruck smiles as you tried on different rings. You push the thought away and swallow the mass in your throat down.

The jeweller takes out two red leather boxes from inside a small carrier bag that has a sticker with their names on it. He sets out the boxes in front of you and moves the bag aside.

"The couple requested the rings to be engraved so there's no risk of you taking away the wrong rings anyway," he clarifies as he picks up one of the boxes, "This one's for the bride."

When he opens it up, you're floored in awe at the beauty of the ring. It's a band of beautiful diamonds sparkling under the light of the store. He tilts the ring and brings it up closer to your eyes until you can see the small letters on the inside- S&H.

"It's beautiful," you whisper.

He twists the ring around in his grip, "No diamonds missing, no cracks or gaps or breaks, yes?"

When you nod in confirmation, he shows it to Sungchan who wordlessly inspects the precious stones. The jeweller places it back in the box and does the same with Shotaro's ring, which has less diamonds but is still shiny.

He puts the boxes back in the bag and shows you the booklets he had places inside, "There's ring care instructions, the certificates for the warranty and what to do if there's anything wrong with the ring."

You nod as you take in the information.

His eyes soften, "Please send my regards to the lovely couple. I am heartbroken to not be able to send them off with their rings. I hope they love it."

"I'm sure they will," you hum as you take the small bag from him, "Thank you."

He spots the absence of metal on your fingers as you reach over, "Ah, no wedding or engagement ring on you, hm? Come and visit my store in the future if you happen to need one."

The back of your neck heats up, "No ring on me. I'll keep you in mind."

"What about you, best man? A lucky lady in your life?" he turns to your companion and drops him a wink, "Gotta get as much business as possible."

Sungchan flashes his bare fingers, "I'll come to you if the time ever comes."

Four years ago, you imagined that you would be way past this stage. It twists your heart to know your best friend gets to do all of it first. You're inexplicably happy for her that she's found the love of her life that she wants to spend forever with, but you always wished you could be doing these steps together. You both always wanted to get engaged at similar times, to get married in consecutive years, to have kids all at the same time, but you've fallen behind already.

"Y/N?" the jeweller calls out softly, breaking your trance, "Everything alright?"

You offer a small smile, "Yeah, sorry. Thank you for your time and the rings."

He waves you off with a genuine smile and you leave the store with Sungchan following behind you.

You take one brief look at him and his unsettled expression and murmur, "See you again soon."

"Wait, how'd you get here? By train?" you nod at him and he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Come. I'll drop you off back at their place."

"That's not necessary. I can handle myself-"

Sungchan gives you a pointed look, clearly unimpressed, "You're carrying around rings worth thousands. Can't risk you losing them or getting robbed."

You look down at the bag, embossed with the logo of the jeweller's, "Uhm, you can just take it if you want and give it to them when you next see them."

"I'm sure they'd wanna see their rings as soon as possible when they get home," Sungchan argues, "Just get in the car with me, Y/N. We don't even have to speak."

Your mouth flattens into a grimace as he begins stomping towards his car parked along the road. Wordlessly, you climb into the passenger seat and secure the bag on your lap. He starts the car and turns on the radio loud enough where you couldn't hold a conversation over it.

You make it 15 minutes into the journey by watching the city go by through the window in front of you. You recognise most places, but it still is not completely all familiar.

It's hard to relax when you're in the car again with the person whose heart you broke. Your fingers grip into the bag and you try to control your breathing so your heart wouldn't run as fast.

"You're getting a call," Sungchan murmurs as he turns the radio down.

You're about to tell him that it's okay and you'll take it later, but when you take out the phone, you see it's your mother. She's a busy woman who doesn't always get the time to speak with you, so you always try to answer her calls.

You mumble a sorry to Sungchan and raise the phone to your ears, "Mhm, mother?"

"Hi my darling, I was just calling to check up on you. What are you up to?"

"I just picked up the wedding rings because Hana and Taro are busy and the store's closing for a bit," you tell her, "I'm on my way back to their house."

She gasps in delight, "How exciting! You're taking a taxi back? It sounds like you're in a car."

You debate internally whether you should tell her, "Sungchan is driving me back to their house. We were both accidentally sent over to the jeweller's."

"Sungchan?" her voice is reluctant and shaky as she utters his name.

"He's the best man," you can tell he's listening by the way his grip tightens on the steering wheel and his knuckles are turning white.

"Of course, you said," your mother remembers what you told her at dinner a few nights ago, "I'll leave you to it. Say hello to Sungchan for me- I haven't seen him and his family in a while. Will they be at the wedding?"

"I suppose," you murmur, "Love you, bye."

Your mother parrots the sentiment before the line clicks.

"My mother says hello," you tell him quietly.

Sungchan forces a small smile, "Thanks. It's been a long time."

Your heart aches at the thought of just how much your family loved and adored your first boyfriend. You started dating and hanging out when you were still teens in your childhood homes, so he and his family got friendly with yours and eventually became close. You've taken endless group trips together and merged your family so well, thinking that you were going to be forever.

The rest of the drive is done in near silence. Sungchan doesn't turn the radio up again, but he also doesn't utter a single word. You felt like you could hear your heartbeat in the quiet.

When he pulls up to the drive, he barely gives you a look as he gets out the car, "I just need to get my jacket I left the other night."

You swallow and nod, following him to the front door where you enter the passcode to get into the house.  You don't really know what to do with yourself after you placed the bag on their coffee table.

Is it rude if you go to your room? Should you offer him a drink? Do you just wait by the door until he leaves?

Sungchan finds his jacket in a closet along the stairwell and he drapes it across his arm. You're waiting awkwardly in the middle of the front room when he stops in front of you with an unreadable, frustrated expression. He squints his eyes slightly at you before letting out a soft sigh.

"What?" the word drops from your mouth quietly.

He shakes his head, "It hurts to look at you."

The words feel like poison injected straight into your veins. Your mouth goes dry and hangs open, "Do you hate me?"

Of course he does. Of course he hates you.

You left him.

"I thought I did. I carried so much resentment over the past 4 years but looking at you again like this," Sungchan pauses and meets your eyes, "It just... hurts."

"I'm sorry," your head hangs low, "I'll be gone soon. You don't have to worry. You don't have to see me at all after all this."

Sungchan lets out a sarcastic, dry chuckle, "I wish that could be the case. What about when they have their first child? What about when the others start getting married too?"

You open your mouth to try and say something, but he continues, "I thought I was finally moving on or at least forgetting. It was a hard 3 years. Then, Shotaro tells me he's proposing and Hana says you're going to be the maid of honour and that in 7 months you'll be back in Seoul. I spent 7 months thinking about what to say to you when I see you again. 7 months wondering what it was going to be like between us. And then you come back and you can't even look me in the eyes. And I don't know what to say to you. And you're saying that I never have to see you again after. What do I even do with myself, Y/N?"

"I'm sorry," it's all you can say as you choke up and tears start forming on your lashes. You feel so pathetic, knowing there was nothing in the world you could say to make this easier.

"Even if you are, that doesn't fix anything," his voice cracks, "Do you actually not regret leaving? Leaving me?"

He brings you back to the other day in his car and you swallow nervously, "Of course I do, but I felt like it was the only choice I had back then. It was getting harder and harder to be with each other. We were fighting all the time for no reason and I had no idea how to fix us. And then I got that job offer I couldn't turn down and you got a good job here in Seoul."

Sungchan's hands ball into fists, "Every couple goes through hard times. I would have gone to the ends of the universe to fight for us. You were everything to me. Was I not to you?"

You snap, "You don't know how hard it was to leave."

"And you don't know how much worse it is to be the one left behind," his voice raises slightly in frustration as you realise that he's crying too, crystal tears falling from his pretty eyes, "What went wrong with us, Y/N? I still don't understand."

"I had no idea who I was without you. We spent every waking moment tethered to each other. Don't you think we needed to grow?" you whisper, "We were fighting so much I thought you would begin to resent me and that it meant we had outgrown each other."

"I wish we could have talked more about it before you left. You gave me no choice, Y/N. You just moved across the world and left me behind," the pain in his voice is evident, "I know I wasn't being a good boyfriend at the end. It was stressful starting that job and becoming an adult in the real world after college, but if you'd given me the chance-"

"There's no point talking about the what-if's," you interrupt him, "It'll only hurt us more."

"Do you still love me?" he questions suddenly.

Your face pales as you look up at him. His tears are flowing so fast, but so delicately- you wish you could reach up and dry his tears with your fingers, not too dissimilar from the way he used to kiss the tears off your cheeks in the past whenever you would have squabbles.

"What?"

He gulps, "I've spent 12 years loving you since the moment I met you. I'm so scared that I'm going to love you for the rest of my life."

"Sungchan-"

"I can't let you leave again without telling you. You have to know it's only ever going to be you."

Sungchan sniffles as he takes a step closer to you. His jacket that was on his arm is discarded on the floor.

"I'm so sorry," you whimper again as your eyes flutter shut. You bite your lip to try and control the tears.

Before you realise what was happening, you feel the soft pad of his thumb tug your lip out and then the pressure of his own mouth against yours as he captured your hot tears in his kiss. And like it was a reflex, you melt into his body and part your lips, giving him access and trying to forget that this was a terrible, terrible thing to do.

His large hands come up to cradle your face and he walks you backwards until your back hits the wall. You're both sobbing into the kiss, but you can't pull away even if you wanted to.

You haven't kissed anyone in 4 years and Sungchan's lips on yours feels like you finally came home to him. It's desperate, sloppy and you're both choking on your own tears as you move your mouth against his. Your heart and your brain have disconnected from each other and your hands are gripping the fabric of the jacket he was currently wearing like your life depends on it.

Time freezes in this moment with him and you don't know how long you're kissing for until you've both stopped crying and your mouth goes numb.

He presses his forehead against yours, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too."

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iv. but you come back with gravity

You don't say anything to Hana when she knocks on your door later on in the evening once they returned. She texts you after, asking if you were awake and if you wanted dinner. You wait 30 minutes before replying that you were in and out of sleep, exhausted from all the exploring you told her that you did after collecting the rings. You're thankful she leaves you alone after that but not before apologising over the mix up with Sungchan and that she hoped he didn't bring you any trouble.

You toss and turn in the bed all night.

When the next day comes, you force yourself out at the crack of dawn, commandeering over the kitchen to cook your friends some breakfast. It was the least you could do for them as they hosted you. You knew Hana would be awake soon since she was still working remotely for a few days. Shotaro, on the other hand, could afford to take some leave by busying himself more than usual in the months prior to the wedding to make up for it.

When Hana comes down yawning, you greet her tiredly, "Hey."

"Awww, my Y/N cooked for me?" she pouted sweetly at you, "You're too sweet. I could get used to this; why don't you come back and live in our spare room forever?"

Your stomach flips on itself, "Do you think I should?"

Hana was about to bring a mouthful of egg into her mouth when she stills, "I mean I was joking but I don't think you are. You want to move back?"

The image of Sungchan from yesterday with tears in his eyes is burned into your brain and you can see him every time you blink, "No... it's just that-"

"Whatever it is, I would say move back. I'm the first- no the second person who wants you back here," she quips.

"Who's the first?"

She glares at you like you're stupid before tossing a piece of kimchi on top of your rice, "Did something happen yesterday? With Sungchan? Did he say something to you?"

You're in half a mind to blurt out the truth, but you stop yourself. You're here for your best friend and to make her life easier before her wedding, not to add problems. Maybe when she's back from her honeymoon and you're alone again in your flat in London you could tell her over FaceTime, but you hold your breath for now.

"No," you shake your head, "You getting married just has me thinking about my future. Like where I'm gonna end up and settle."

She shoots you a sympathetic look, "When did life suddenly whizz by? One second we're giggling by our lockers writing confession notes and the next we're thinking about where to root our lives. Anyway, I want you here, but more importantly, I want you where you're happy. I can tell it's been hard for you to come back here."

"I'm just kind of lost in life. I thought I could build a life in London and stay there forever. I have- kind of, but there's nothing that's actually keeping me there. If I packed up and moved away, no one is missing me," you sigh.

Hana claps like she suddenly had a bright idea, "You know what you should do while you're here? Open a dating app! Maybe you'll find your reason to stay."

You look at her like she's grown 10 heads, cause WTAF?

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," you deadpan.

Hana rolls her eyes, "Seriously? Why not? Are you still in love with him or something? I thought that seeing him again would give you closure and you can finally move on."

You stay silent and she groans, putting her head in her hands, "Jesus, it's done the opposite, hasn't it? Made you feel things again?"

"This is not about me. Or Sungchan. Stop, stop," you frantically dismiss her, "No talking about my tragic love life. You're literally getting married!"

Hana sighs at you, "I am, but doesn't mean I can't care and worry about you. I have enough of myself to share with those I love, honestly. Getting married to Taro is gonna be one of the greatest things ever, but you know, I love him every single day regardless and not much has to change. It's a big deal to us but life still goes on for everyone else."

"I'm so happy you guys have each other," you tell her, voice dropping to a whisper.

"It's all thanks to you and him," she reminds you, "And if you realised that you still love him, I won't judge. I just don't want either of you to get hurt again."

You nod slowly, trying to internalise her words, "I'll be okay, right?"

She reaches across the table and squeezes your hand, "You're gonna be fine, my love. Whatever happens."

You finish up breakfast talking about what you were gonna do during the day instead. It was 6 days until the wedding and you were scheduled to pick up your dress from the tailors after they finished the adjustments. Hana was going to do some work first and then you both would go out and get the dress together, then have some brunch with some of your old friends from college. A lot of them stayed in town, but you both had lost touch with some of them after your move and Hana's fancy job she got straight out of school.

Spending the rest of the morning trying to relax proved to be futile. Every time you were left alone with your thoughts, all you could think about was Sungchan's lips on yours, the pressure of his body caging you in- and then the emptiness you felt when he ran away as soon as.

How could he tell you that he still loved you and proceed to flee after kissing you? Your brain and heart are in complete tatters.

You're still thinking about him by the time Hana knocks and tells you she finished up her work and you think about him the whole drive over to the bridal shop.

You think about him when you try on the dress again. You think about whether he'd think you're pretty in the dress. You think about the wedding dress you'd have picked if life went to plan.

On the whole walk to the brunch restaurant, Hana gave up on trying to capture your attention. She just links your arms together and hums into the air.

Minjeong and Jimin are already sat at the table when you arrive and they spring up in delight at the sight of you and crush you between them.

"Holy crap, you've been away as long as we knew you," Minjeong whines as you all sit down. Like the boys, you messaged her on special occasions and haven't substantially talked since, but you'll always hold a lot of love for the few friends you made in college.

Minjeong and Jimin lived in the apartment next to yours for your entire college journey. They too were best friends from childhood and you and Hana mirrored them in so many ways.

"How are you? How's London?" Jimin asks curiously.

"It's weird to be back, for sure," you smile slightly, "But I'm happy to see you guys again. London's London- busy, gloomy, grey."

"Did you make friends okay over there? Find a new man?" Minjeong raises her eyebrows. Jimin elbows her in the side and gives you a sheepish look.

It wasn't like you made a public statement that you and Sungchan broke up, but people must have noticed something was up when you started posting in the UK and disappeared off each other's social media accounts.

"Still just me," you chuckle, "Anyway, what are you guys wearing to the wedding?"

Jimin claps her hands excitedly and rushes to her phone to show you the photos of their dresses. They're coming in complimentary pastel yellow dresses with frills and all.

"You guys are gonna look so good! Like cute little twins as always," Hana squeals in approval, "No dates for either of you?"

Winter grimaces, "We've not been as lucky as you in that department. I don't know if we scare each other's potential suitors off."

"Taro was terrified of Y/N for a while, remember?," Hana reminisces fondly, "He was my first proper boyfriend, so Y/N really lay on the act thick to make sure he would treat me well."

"And my screening process worked, didn't it? You're the one getting married in 6 days," you quip at her.

"Yes, I have you to thank of course," she nuzzles into your side, "Why does it now seem like I'm not going to be attending any of your weddings anytime soon? I want to attend one that's not my own!"

Jimin snorts, "I can get eloped for you, if you want. What age did you guys want to get married?"

Winter sighs, "I wanted to get married out of college," and then gives the stink eye to her best friend who mutters under her breath that she should have tried harder then.

"Around this age would have been nice, I think," you say sadly, playing with the rings on your fingers and trying to imagine how they would look beside a wedding or engagement ring.

"I told her to go on a dating app earlier, but she said no," Hana informs them.

"That's modern dating now, unfortunately. We can't all have high school or college sweethearts," Jimin purses her lips in thought, "Or how about you just get back together with your ex?"

It's Winter's turn to smack her friend's arm in shock, "Yah, that's so out of pocket, Jimin! Sorry Y/N."

You attempt to keep your face neutral as Jimin giggles innocently, "Sorry Y/N. It's just that I heard that he's been single this whole time. You've seen him recently, right?"

"He's Taro's best man," Hana nods, "We've had a few wedding events and dinners since Y/N got here."

"It's not really up to me, I think. I'm the one that up and left."

Winter reaches across the table to grab your hand and comfort you, "You must've had your reasons, Y/N-ie. Sorry, I know you probably don't want to talk about it."

"It's fine- it's just complicated," you smile softly in reassurance.

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v. i could go on and on and on, and i will go on and on and on until it all comes back

4 days out from the wedding and you find yourself alone in Seoul again. Hana and Shotaro decided they needed a spa day to relax just before it got incredibly intense over the weekend and asked if you wanted to join. Of course, you weren't going to sandwich yourself in the nearly newlywed's plans.

You remember the café near the jeweller's you wanted to visit, eager to see how time has changed the shop just as it had changed you. Taking the subway was tiring, of course, but you occupy your time by people-watching through every stop. It's a weekday, so the carriage isn't so busy during the middle of the day. You're lucky enough to find a row of seats and be able to rest your feet.

The walk to the café from the station isn't long, but you walk slow and take in your surroundings on the sunny day. It's hard when your memories are so entwined with the one you didn't have anymore.

Every corner you turn, you can still picture you and Sungchan there walking, holding hands and bright-eyed. He'll probably have said something ridiculous that made you laugh and you'll have playfully hit him on his arm and cuddled into his side as he dropped a kiss on the top of your head.

Being in Seoul brings back all the nostalgia of your youth.

You order a refreshing iced drink, slightly sad that you don't recognise the cashier behind the till. Your feet carry you to an empty table before you can realise it's the one you liked to sit at before- by a window, far away enough from both the front door and the toilet, and with a view of the main street in front to watch the world go by. You know there's a charging port at your feet and that it takes 12 steps to get to the stand with the tissues, sugars and stirrers. You know that you've spent many hours hunched over on the seat, trying to complete each essay and assignment. You know what you like off the menu and what you don't. You know that it's where you had your first date with Sungchan in the city when your parents let you out at 16 together.

It hurts to remember the very first time you were here, giggling, flustered and nervous for your very first date with a boy- the same boy you'd been infatuated with since the first time you laid eyes on him 2 years prior. Sungchan had carried your bag on his shoulder the whole train ride over and tried his best to look all tall and tough to protect you in the big city despite it being one of his first times going to the city without an adult. He had opened all the doors for you, pulled out all the chairs and paid for all your drinks and food as he listened to you ramble about cute cakes and pastries.

You had talked about your high school exams, what you wanted to do in college and how you imagined your futures. He had told you all about his sweet family, his love for football and things you never got to know about him in a group situation.

On the way home, with the sun about to set, he held your hand the whole way.

You stop reminiscing when a figure takes a seat in front of you, and then you're thrown straight back in.

"What are you doing here?" you ask Sungchan tentatively, unsure what to make of his presence.

"Hana told me you might come here today. I was going to come to the house to see you," Sungchan says simply, playing with his fingers, "I didn't really have any way to reach you."

Of course- your Korean number was long deactivated, you had unfollowed each other on social media and your temporary number was shared only with those you deemed it necessary.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, expression slightly menacing from the way it brought a pang to your heart to look at him. You knew exactly how he felt when he said it hurt to look at you.

"You left, Sungchan. You told me you missed me and then you left," you murmured quietly, suddenly hyper-aware of your surroundings.

He sighs longingly, "I know. I'm sorry for that. But my head's a mess, I'm confused and I don't know where we stand."

"You're the one that kissed me," you continue accusing him.

"You kissed me back and I didn't expect it. You told me you missed me," he bores his eyes into yours, "But you're going to leave again in a few days and I don't know if my heart can handle it again to watch you walk away."

"What's our options here?" you grip the cup in your hands tightly, "We just forget everything happened, just get through the wedding and then never look back?"

"Is that what you want?" there's a tinge of hurt in his voice.

"What I want and what I can have are two different things."

He pauses and then swallows, "What do you want?"

"You said it- it's only ever going to be you," you confess.

There's no point lying to him; you know each other better than you know yourselves- or at least you did. He knows your soul like it's his own, learned you inside and out over the years you grew up beside each other. You might've changed a bit away from each other, but you were each other's anchor in your formative years. Of course he knows you.

You watch his eyes transform with hope and then hesitancy, "What's stopping us from being together then?"

"We haven't spoken in 4 years and the most we've done here is argue," you remind him, "And I could love you with all my heart and every inch of my being, but that doesn't mean we'll work again."

Sungchan looks at you with those big, brown eyes that transports you 10 years back, in the very same seat, as he asked you to be his girlfriend, "Can we just try?"

10 years ago, you had blushed and hid your face in your hands. He had laughed sweetly, melodiously, prying your fingers away from your visage. You had giggled out a small 'yes' and he had entangled your fingers together in glee.

But now you're 10 years older, cheeks less puffy and the passage of time eroding at the innocent naïvety you both held. But love has no timeline, hope even less.

You're the one to reach over to his restless fingers and entwine them in yours, "Yes."

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You have more questions than you have answers. You have more anxiety than you have reassurance. Your head spins the minute you attempt to solve all the newfound puzzles and dilemmas in your head, but you try to bury them back deep into your brain so you could focus on your task at hand and what you came here for.

Like most brides before their wedding, Hana was starting to get a bit nervous. She had absolutely no doubt about marrying Shotaro of course, but it was a lot of stress to deal with all the moving parts and logistics of actually holding the wedding. Every evening, you've been sitting with the couple, going through their to-do-lists and wedding plans to make sure you didn't miss a single detail.

To be honest, there's nothing left to do until the rehearsal dinner you were hosting tomorrow, which was the day before the wedding. Overthinking details unnecessarily would just add stress to the couple, so you've been trying to reassure them everything was going to be perfect.

"It's actually so close," Hana exhales slowly, as she closes her eyes and tries to relax.

You're sat outside in the lawn chairs of their garden, basking in the late afternoon summer sun, "My best friend is going to be a married woman in 2 days."

"And then you're going to leave again," you can hear the pout in her voice, "When's the next time we can take time off work so we can properly hang out without the wedding planning being the center of attention? HR probably won't let me for another 6 months, but I'm itching to come visit you in London already."

"Don't act like your wedding isn't the most exciting thing that's ever happened to either of us," you scoff at her.

"It is, but it's literally consumed our entire life," Hana puffs out, "I'm excited to see it come together, though. Make sure you try and have fun at the wedding too, okay? I know I asked you for a lot of favours as my maid of honour, but I still want you to have a good time. Maybe meet one of Taro's cousins or studio friends."

You flush red at the sudden thought in your head, "Don't say anything, okay, but Sungchan and I are gonna, um, come to your wedding together-" Hana slaps her hand over her mouth and you sit up, "I said don't say anything!"

Over the past 2 days, you'd been texting and chatting on the phone a lot in the times you could. He was still working during the day as a hot-shot physiotherapist for one of the elite football teams in the city, so he didn't have time to see you when you were available. You'd agreed to be each other's dates to your best friends' wedding, even though the time you would spent with each other was probably going to be very limited with your duties. It's the thought that counts.

Hana's peering at you with the widest, most shocked eyes, "What did I miss? What the hell?"

"It's nothing," it's everything, "We just got to talking a bit, decided to see if it might go anywhere and stick this time. We're taking it like really slow."

Hana rolls her eyes, "How slow do you have to go? You're already each other's greatest love- oh don't give me that look!" she reaches out to poke your exasperated expression, "I get it. You don't want to get hurt and you don't want to hurt each other. Just don't stand in the way of your own happiness."

"I'm sorry to make it about me," you sigh, "We're not going to be obvious at your wedding or anything."

She reaches over to take your hand, "Babe, I told you, your happiness is my happiness and I mean it. You know I've always rooted for the two of you."

Hana was the very first supporter of your relationship. While she came to know her soon-to-be husband through you and Sungchan, you only ended up together in the first place by Hana getting fed up of you dancing around each other and basically telling Sungchan to ask you out on a date. She'd spent 2 years listening to you go on and on about the cute guy that moved into the neighbourhood and watched as he fell for you with every waking day. You were both too shy to make a move, until she cornered him and convinced him that you would definitely say yes to a date (even the blind could sense that you'd say yes in a heartbeat).

"I love you. I'm so lucky to have you as my best friend," you sniffle, squeezing her hand.

"Save the confession for your Prince Charming. I think he just got here," Hana nods behind you, in the direction of the house.

"What? You didn't tell me he was coming over? He didn't say!" you scramble up to your feet, afraid to turn around knowing you'd find him leaning against the door frame of the garden door.

"Hey!" you hear his familiar sweet voice.

"Sungchan-ie, come here," Hana beckons him over and motions for you to sit down again, "Come join us. What are you doing here?"

"Taro asked me to hang out," he shrugs and takes the chair besides yours, flashing you a sweet smile as he did so, "Sorry for breaking in, but I thought you two would be out having girl-time and getting pampered."

"Our appointments were pretty efficient," Hana shrugs. You had spent the morning doing your final beauty treatments and touch ups - nails, brows, last-minute hair tweaks, lashes, facials and all. You managed to get through them all quickly and ended up having enough time to lay out in the garden with a cocktail on the side-tables, "Taro should be home soon, though. He's probably caught in some traffic back from the airport as he picked up his family."

"Do you want a drink?" you ask him, motioning to the pair of glasses.

"D'you make that?" he quirks in amusement.

You nod, "I befriended the bartender at the pub I live near. She taught me how to make some good cocktails."

"You're full of surprises," he chuckles at you, "Up for passing on that knowledge?"

You look back at Hana, who simply turns her face away with a smirk as she closed her eyes to appreciate the sun. You get up with Sungchan and motion for him to follow you into the kitchen.

"You told her? That girl cannot keep a neutral expression to save her life," Sungchan utters behind you, his tone amused.

"I said we were going to the wedding together, if that's okay," you prepare the ingredients in front of you.

"Mhm, more than okay. I'm sure she was happy to hear that," he muses, "Did she tell you how thick she laid it on in the weeks before you got here? Every time I saw her, she would remind me that I shouldn't miss my chance when you got here."

You gasp at your scheming best friend, "No way! She's the one that's been telling me to get on a dating app! And wanted to set me up with Taro's colleagues!"

Sungchan pouts in faux betrayal, clutching at his heart like he got shot, "Back-stabber! I thought she was on my side!"

You laugh at his antics, "Nah, I think she was playing the long-game with us. Anyway, watch and learn, yeah?"

Sungchan watches in fascination as you show him how to make a salt and chilli rim and how to mix a cocktail together. He's delighted at the way you shake the drink in the shaker the same way bartenders do it and begs you to let him try. You watch him carefully to make sure that the liquid wouldn't explode everywhere throughout your best friend's house and he's smiling in triumph as he strains out the drink into the cup.

You'd forgotten just how adorable he is when he's not trying to ignore you in the room.

"You're an expert too," you clap happily, "Like it?"

"Best cocktail I've ever had! Thank you!" he proclaims, and then sticks himself by your side, slinging a casual arm around your shoulder to pull you close, "I didn't get to say hi properly. Tell me about your day."

"We just went appointment to appointment," you show him your nails that he coos at, "Went café hopping a bit and then came home to chill since it was so sunny."

"Mhm, it'd be so nice to go to the beach," Sungchan sighs dreamily before his expression changes, "Oh, yeah. When are you going back to London?"

"I've got three full days after the wedding," you try to keep your voice steady, not wanting to give away how unsettled you felt about all the uncertainty, "We can spend that time together, yeah?"

He smiles gently, reaching up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and then placing his large palm on your cheek, "We can make the most of it. Then I'll find a good time to come see you in London."

It makes your heart skip a beat, "That'd be nice."

Sungchan's eyes furrow together as he maintains his warm touch on you. He leans down, "Can I kiss you?"

You don't reply. Instead, you reach up and press your lips against his. This time it's sweet and full of adoration instead of the angst and desperation of a few days ago. He smiles against your lips and you taste the hint of salt, vodka and a little something sweet. When he pulls away, he leans his forehead against yours and exhales, content and feeling like he can finally breathe again.

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vi. i trust the universe will always bring me to you

The day comes around all too quickly when time had been passing so slow in the week before. The rehearsal dinner was beautiful, but over in a flash and then suddenly, you were in the guesthouse of the venue, watching with teary eyes as your best friend in the world clips her veil on.

Her mother sniffles next to you, clutching your arm tightly. Hana was biting her pink-stained lips, trying to keep herself from crying off her pretty makeup. The room's drop-dead quiet with all eyes trained on her on her special day.

"My beautiful baby," Hana's mother coos at her only daughter when she looked over at you all expectantly for your reactions.

"You're gonna make me cry! Stop it," she whines adorably, but accepts the tight squeeze her mother wraps her in.

She turns to you and you have to look up to blink the tears away before you can hug her again, "The most beautiful bride in the world," you whisper fondly, "I am so happy for you, Hana."

"Thank you for being here with me," she says sincerely, squeezing your hands, "And for being my best friend in the world."

She gives her bridesmaid hugs too until the coordinator tells you it's time for your best friend to get married. You all file out of the room in order to walk over to the ceremony hall, with Hana being the last one to leave. Ahead of you when you get to the entrance, you finally see the boys all huddled around Shotaro, who looked both nervous and giddy at the same time.

Hana stays hidden from the groom, but you spot the tallest boy of the group and tug on his sleeve.

"Y/N," he gasps when he turns around, his gaze softening into pure adoration, "Oh, baby, you look so beautiful."

The dress you picked out with Hana falls perfectly on your body and the colour is the perfect complement to your skin. The fabric drapes delicately in all the right places and hugs where it should. It makes you feel incredible, especially when Sungchan reacts the way he does.

"You look really handsome too, Sungchan," you reach up to straighten his tie as you all file into your orders.

"Shall we?" Sungchan asks nervously, offering his arm out to you as he notices the other pairs link together.

You smile at him, entwining your arms together and pressing yourself into his side. Before you forget, you turn around to see Shotaro rubbing his hands together.

"It's gonna be amazing, Taro," you reassure him.

Shotaro sighs in relief, "I just can't wait to marry her."

You're happy to know your best friend gets the happy ending she deserves.

Sungchan nudges you when the door opens and the pairs start walking down the aisle. It goes by in a heartbeat for you- you don't even remember what happened between the time you started walking and the time you and Sungchan separated to stand on either side of the altar.

When Hana walks in, you almost cry again. She's radiant in white and her eyes are so full and shiny with love as she keeps her eyes on her groom waiting for her. The wedding is beautiful and the vows make everyone laugh and cry.

You meet Sungchan's eyes multiple times through the ceremony and each time, he gives you this subtle, but comforting smile to reassure you that he was there. You wonder if you'd have been in Hana and Shotaro's place earlier had everything not happened.

Ever since she asked you to be her maid of honour, you've been preparing for the speech you were asked to give at the reception. You're nervous the whole time as the MC introduces you and prepares to hand you the mic and Hana gently squeezes your hand before you stand up with a fond look in her eyes. Sungchan on the other side of Shotaro is still looking at you like you hung the stars.

"For those that don't know me, my name is Y/N and Hana has been my best friend since we were born," you begin slowly, taking the time to breathe, "Our parents are friends from the same neighbourhood and we grew up together, practically as twins. When we were young, we were as inseparable as they came and did everything together. We went to all the same schools, all the way up to college, which was when I introduced Shotaro to her.

"Hana was the reason that I was able to date my first love by her meddling in high school. Ever since then, I had wanted to find the perfect match for her to share her heart with and to make her happy. Sorry Shotaro, but Hana has been my other half since birth and I felt like I knew her well enough to know who she'd click with. When I first met Shotaro in that tiny freshman dorm, I knew he'd be perfect for Hana.

"Taro and Hana are two of the most loving, gentle and caring people I have in my life and I can't be any happier to know that my best friend is loved the exact way she deserves. She's the best person I know and knowing I played a part in introducing her to her person makes me so happy. Even though I'm thousands of miles across the world, their love inspires me every day. They've felt like a married couple since the day they started dating and their love hasn't flickered or weaned once since.

"It feels just like yesterday when Hana and I were planning our dream weddings in our childhood bedrooms and here we are now, marrying you off to the love of your life. May the rest of your life together be filled with endless love and happy memories. I love you both so much."

Hana is tearing up by the time you finish your speech and you have to gulp to hold your own tears back. She stands up to hug you tightly and Shotaro follows beside her. They both thank you for the lovely speech and you hand the mic over to Sungchan once he's announced.

"When I met Shotaro on the first day of freshman year, I was honestly terrified. He looked so intimidating and scary up until I found out that it was only because he wasn't quite fluent in Korean yet and was actually from Japan. We were roommates in freshman year, so we got to know each other pretty well. He's been my best friend since and I'm grateful to have such a thoughtful, considerate, sweet and of course, talented, friend in him.

"Taro and Hana's very first date was at a diner on the other side of the city. What you two don't know is that Y/N and I actually followed you there and spied on you in wigs and glasses," you gasp in remembrance at the memory and burst out into a large smile, "And then we swore to each other that we'd keep this secret until your wedding day after your disastrous first date when you both came home crying in frustration because you liked each other so much that you were too nervous on the first date. We had to chaperone your next few dates and it was such an honour for us to watch you fall in love with each other with our very own eyes.

"I met Hana at 14 and I was scared of her for a few years, but even then, I knew she was a crazy loyal best friend to Y/N, who would do anything for her best friend's happiness. Even now, she shows me she cares in all the small and big ways and having the two of them in my life makes me feel very lucky. And even though I cringe at you two for still being in your honeymoon phase 8 years later, I couldn't be any happier that you have each other to have and to hold. Thank you for everything you've done for me and I also love you both very, very much."

Later on in the night after the dinner and cake-cutting, Jiwoo, Seunghan and Sungchan join you at the bar getting the signature cocktails created by the couple.

"You guys did such lovely speeches," Jiwoo says sincerely, clinking her drink against yours.

"Thank you. I didn't want to embarrass them so I held back on that aspect," Sungchan chuckles.

"And you mentioned that Hana set you up with your first love. Are you still together? Are they here?" she asks you curiously, innocent to the situation.

Seunghan coughs into his drink and has to turn around to control his face. Sungchan tenses up beside you, but you look over at him and smile softly, "Yeah, he's here."

Jiwoo's eyes widen in shock as she begins to laugh awkwardly, "Oh! I'm sorry- I didn't know you guys were together! Hana never mentioned!"

"Don't worry, Jiwoo," you reassure her.

"Jiwoo, look- Mina's calling you over," Seunghan points out across the room, where Mina, Taehee and Anton were chatting at a table. Jiwoo flashes a sheepish smile before she disappears away into the crowd. The younger boy looks between the two of you, "I thought that was taboo."

Sungchan rolls his eyes at his friend and places his free hand around your waist to the bewilderment of Seunghan, "None of your business."

He slaps his palm across his mouth, "I knew it! I knew this was going to happen."

"Don't go around telling everyone now," you request from him, "It's Hana and Taro's wedding after all."

"Of course," Seunghan nods enthusiastically and then relaxes into a soft smile, "I'm happy for the two of you, though."

He's whisked away by Eunseok and Wonbin, who both stare confused at your proximity but decide against saying anything as they get chased down by Hana's eccentric grandmother who always loved Eunseok when you were all younger.

Sungchan squeezes at your waist, "How you feeling?"

You look around the room at mostly familiar faces and the sight of your best friends breaking it down on the dance floor, "It's crazy- like, they're really married! When did we all grow up so fast?"

"I know, right? They'll be having kids soon, I bet," Sungchan agrees with a fond stare over at the couple, "The wedding was so beautiful as well."

"But then it's over just like that," you sigh, "Well, I guess those two are going off to their honeymoon literally tonight, so it won't feel like it's over for them yet."

"Oh, tonight? They're just leaving you in the house alone?" Sungchan raises an eyebrow curiously.

"Mhm, Hana didn't want me to book a hotel for just a few days," you say off-handedly, not picking up on his tone.

"Oh," Sungchan gulps, "I don't want you to be alone- do you, maybe, wanna come over?"

When your head whips around to look at him, he's already flushing red. You don't know if it's the alcohol or something else, but he's gnawing on his lip. You just give him a reassuring smile, "I'd like that, actually."

After some dancing with your best friend and childhood friends and some mingling with the parents, you're saying a very tearful goodbye to Hana and Shotaro in the foyer of the venue. Their bags are packed and with them and they're about to head to the airport to jet away.

"Promise you'll come back more often, yeah?" Hana is crying into your shoulder, "Thank you for everything you've done this week. I'm gonna miss you so much."

You have a feeling you'll be back much sooner than another 4 years.

"Enjoy yourself, okay? You're gonna have such a great time, Mrs. Osaki!" you sniffle into her jumper.

You embrace Shotaro in a similar fashion as he also thanks you for the help. He drops a wink as he says, "Check on the house at least once before you go, okay? I know you probably won't be there much."

"No idea what you're talking about," you try to keep a straight face, but you both burst out laughing.

You watch them ride off into the night in a blacked out SUV and try to dry your tears as you feel a weight drop on your shoulders in the form of an arm, "Ready to go? The taxi's coming soon."

Sungchan's presence is warm in the blustery foyer, "Yeah."

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

You rest your eyes with your head on his shoulder the entire journey back to Sungchan's place. His hand finds home on your thigh, the pad of his thumb brushing repeatedly over the silk of your dress. His suit jacket sits comfortably around your shoulders as you doze in and out of sleep, but the car stops before you've even realised.

"We're here, Y/N," he whispers to pull you into consciousness. He thanks the driver and rushes around to your door to open it for you.

It's dark when you step out and the nearest street light doesn't illuminate your surroundings enough for you to recognise what part of the city you were in. Sungchan grips your hand in his tightly all the way through the side-street and into the lobby of the apartment building.

He keeps quiet beside you, only the pattering of your heels and his dress shoes echoing into the empty room. You come to your senses quickly and then gasp.

"Sungchan," you freeze beside him.

He chuckles softly, "Yeah, I know."

"No one told me," you say quietly as he leads you to the elevator, "Chanie."

"It's home," he shrugs as he presses the floor of the apartment.

You're nervous when you get off at the floor, then it grows as he keys in the code on the pad. You gulp at the order of the numbers- the same sequence it's been since you moved in four and a half years ago.

"Welcome back," Sungchan murmurs behind you. He places his hand on the small of your back to gently guide you inside, since your feet were planted into the ground.

It smells exactly the same as when you left (though more of his scent and none of yours) and then he turns the lights on and you choke up as it looks nearly identical as before. It's the very first home you and your first love moved into together and it breaks your heart all over again to know he's been living here this whole time.

The shoe rack you picked out still sits by the door, but it's only occupied by large men's shoes now. The artwork you and Sungchan bickered about is still hanging above the chest of drawers on the other side of the door where you used to dump keys and bags and other knick knacks you collected for the 6 months you lived here.

"Oh, baby, don't cry," Sungchan is now in front of you, wiping at the tears you didn't even know were falling.

"Why didn't you move out?" you lean into his touch.

"Because this was our first home," he says, "And this was all I had left of you."

You crash your body against his, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly as your tears soaked into his dress shirt, now stained with your makeup.

"Shh, don't cry, my love. It's okay. I was strong enough," Sungchan murmurs into your hair as he presses his lips into your scalp, "You know that I love you, mhm? I always will."

"Channie, I love you," you cry even harder as he squeezes you, "I'm so, so sorry."

"I know. But you came back home to me," Sungchan sighs contently, smoothing your hair down to comfort you, "That's all I can ask for."

"I ruined us."

Sungchan shakes his head, "No, baby. You're here now. It's fine."

"It's all my fault."

Sungchan unwraps your arms from around him and takes your hand to lead you to the bedroom you made home in the past. He sits you down at the edge of the bed as you cry and crouches in front of you, holding your hands.

"You look so, so beautiful, my love. Don't cry, come on," he soothes, "I'm here, Y/N. I'm here."

Sungchan finds a packet of makeup wipes from your bag and swipes gently at your face as you sniffle and try to stop your tears. He goes through a few before the makeup is no longer staining your face and he hands you some tissue to blow your nose from the sobbing. While he waits for you patiently, you look up at the ceiling to try and stop the hot, silent tears that kept escaping.

"Do you think we'd have been married by now?" you ask, guilt surging in your vessels, "We always wanted to get married as soon as possible."

Sungchan's soft gaze falters for a second, but then he comes up to sit next to you and wrap you in his large arms, "It doesn't matter, Y/N. It's not your fault."

"But I left," you mutter.

"And I made you feel like you had to," Sungchan pats you comfortingly, "We'll be better this time, mhm? We'll know better."

"But what if I'm not the same person anymore you used to love?"

Sungchan furrows his brows tightly together, "That's nonsense. The moment I saw you again in that café, I knew. You're still the one who has my heart. I promise."

He holds you a few minutes longer, whispering sweet nothings into your ears as you halt the crying. You grip onto him tightly, afraid he was going to leave you- ironic, isn't it?

When you finally calm down, he drags you to the bathroom to brush your teeth together with his spare toothbrush and he washes your face with a foaming cleanser while you do the same to him. When you're applying his moisturiser on your skin, he watches from behind you, arms holding onto your waist as he blinks slowly through the mirror. And when you realise you don't have any clothes, he unzips your dress from the top and dresses you up in one of his favourite shirts, adoring the way it swamps you.

He gives you this look and pulls you under the sheets, immediately tackling you into a hug and covering your body with his.

"This isn't really taking it slow, is it?" you hum, tracing shapes onto his bare arms.

"It is for me," Sungchan's eyes flutter shut in contentment, "If I had things my way, we'd be up on that altar beside Taro and Hana. How does a double wedding sound to you?"

You gasp and break out into laughter as you shove against his body, but he pulls you in tighter, "Shut up. You'd so be the type to propose at someone else's wedding."

He scoffs, as if offended, "Hell no. Do you wanna know how I'd do it?" you miss the way his voice wavers. His eyes are still closed and you're staring into his chest, "In a flower field or meadow, you in a pretty dress. Maybe we'd have a picnic, but it would be definitely be on a sunny day because you're extra happy when the sun is out. I'd set up a camera or something. Say I want to take pictures of us and there's no one else around. And when I succeed in distracting you, I would get down on one knee and you'd turn around and start crying, probably. And you'd love the ring too."

Your voice drops to barely a whisper, "Seems like you've thought about it a lot."

"You were the only person I could have ever imagined spending my life with. And I didn't want to spend any time apart from you," Sungchan admits, "When I bought the ring after saving my first few pays, I got scared and I pulled away. I had no idea it would drive you away in the end. I'm sorry for that."

Your heart stops, "The ring?"

He lets out this heavy sigh as he turns around and reaches over to pull his nightstand drawer open. He digs around into the depths of it and pulls out a box. It looks tiny in the palm of his hands and he presents it to you with his big brown eyes suddenly tearing up. He's doing that thing where he's nibbling on his lips and looking up and away to stop the tears falling.

"I don't want you to feel guilty or sorry. I just need you to know everything before we can start again," he mumbles, "If you want to open it, you can. Of if you don't, you don't have to."

For the countless time since the day started, you're crying again. You're in his arms, again.

"Sungchan," you cry out, "You were going to propose?"

"I wanted forever with you," he coo's sweetly, brushing the hair out of your face to plant kisses on your cheeks, "I still do."

You take the box from his hold and open it slowly, breath hitched. He's right- you love it so much that your stomach twists into itself. You had always wondered what ring would call to your heart- you didn't think you could describe it if someone asked, but Sungchan had known then, even without asking.

"It's a bit dusty now. I haven't looked at it in a while," Sungchan giggles.

Your heart is beating fast, almost out of your chest as you eye the metal and the precious stone. It's even better than any ring you saw in that jewellery store with him. You can feel his eyes locked on you as you take the ring out from its plush cushion and inspect it close up.

The room is only lit with a dim lamp, but the stone sparkles in the dark anyway. You can see something engraved inside the band, but your hands can't stop shaking long enough to read it. Sungchan's looking at you and he looks nearly exactly the same as he did 4 years ago in this very spot.

"Do you like it?" he asks quietly, "I picked it out by myself."

You don't say another word as you toss the box beside you and slip the ring effortlessly on the finger it was intended to rest on. Sungchan opens his mouth but you catch the gasp with your kiss as you smash your lips against his. He makes this strangulated noise as his fingers dig in to the side of your hips to pull you over him and his tongue slips into your mouth.

You kiss fervently, ferociously, having been devoid of his taste for more days than you wish would have passed. The cold metal of the ring digs into the side of his cheek, but Sungchan has never known more bliss than this.

"You can't take it back," Sungchan pants against your lips as he captured them again in a hot kiss. His hands slide up your bare flanks under the loose shirt and you detach from his mouth just to be able to gnaw at the side of his neck in that one spot you remember he loves.

His sweet mouth curses into the still air, "Fuck, Y/N."

"I love you," you murmur into his neck as his hands run wild, "I always will."

Sungchan places a hand over yours, the stone now digging into his palms. It's worth it, he tells himself now. You're here, he tells himself.

"I love you. It'll only ever be you."

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

vii. i'm always, forever, runnin' back to you

The city is too polluted for you to ever feel like you're taking in a breath of fresh air. You should probably hold your breath, even.

Though the sky is teetering on the border of blue and grey, the sun still peeks through the clouds and greets you with a diffuse, warm light. You're humming to yourself as you walk down the street, head up to avoid walking into anyone. There's no music in your ears because you want to appreciate the rare sunny days that look like they'll be pulled from under you at any minute.

Your surroundings are familiar, having walked them nearly daily for the past few years, but when it comes to a crossing, you turn left today and instead of right. It's a diversion you take on special occasions- a diversion that takes you to your favourite café in the entire city. They serve the best cakes and pastries that are the cherry on top to anything you have to celebrate. Sometimes it's a promotion, sometimes a birthday and other times just a hard day that you didn't think you would make it out the other side of.

Before it comes into view, your phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey," your best friend's voice rings out through the speaker, "You finished work?"

"Mhm, I'm walking to that café I took you to now," you tell her, "What are you doing up? It must be, what? 2 or 3 in the morning there?"

"Late night at the office anyway with this huge case. I just got home," she sighs and you can finally hear the exhaustion in her voice, "But I also couldn't miss this. I'm proud of you."

"It's kind of a bittersweet feeling," you hum thoughtfully, "Thank you for calling, Han. But get yourself to sleep now."

"Are you at the café now?"

You nod before you realise she can't see you so you affirm verbally as the shop front enters your field of vision. You're met with a surprise that causes a smile to spread on your face.

"Yeah, just got here. I'll talk to you and Taro soon, okay?" you coo at your best friend who bids you farewell before you hang up the phone.

There's a tall figure leaning against the brick wall beside the shop entrance. He's got his hands in both pockets and he's watching your every step with an impatient, but fond stare.

"You said you weren't here yet!"

"Took your time, hm?" his voice is the closest thing that feels like home now until you walk straight into him and wrap your arms around his torso, "Surprise!"

"It's my last time doing that walk," your own voice muffles against his black shirt.

"How was your last day of work?" Sungchan strokes your hair gently as you bury yourself closer.

"I cried a bit saying goodbye to my co-workers," you admit, "But I know this is the right choice. I didn't even mean to stay here this long."

Sungchan hums from above, "Thank you for choosing this, though."

You look around the street you find yourself on in this area of London, knowing it's the last time you'll be here for a long time until you decide to come back and visit.

"Home has always been where you are," you pull away from him to intertwine your hands, "I miss Seoul and everyone there. London has taught me so much, but mostly that I can't live without you. These past 5 months were horrific too."

"Well, we're on the other side now," Sungchan leads you into your favourite café, the one you showed him when he first visited London 5 months ago just a few weeks after your friends' wedding.

You recommend things to order and end up with a generous spread on the table. Sungchan watches with a loving gaze as you arrange the plates to form an aesthetic birds eye view and you snap away with your phone camera.

You handed in your notice as soon as you got back from the wedding, but you had to wait to wrap up the big project that you had just started back then. Sungchan flew to London three weeks after the wedding on a whim and you had spent those two weeks he could work remotely playing house in your apartment in the evenings and showing him around the UK on the weekends. Then, you were apart for 5 months as he saved up his holiday time at his work and you were only connected via late night and early morning video calls to satisfy the itch of being together.

It wasn't always easy, of course. There were some weeks that you were able to spend more time with each other than others and it got frustrating at times, but you always managed to put it back into perspective that it wasn't long until you were reunited again without a looming flight to take you away.

He arrived in London a few days ago, helping to pack up your place while you were tying the last few loose ends at your job. It always felt nice coming back home to him at the end of the day and going back to Seoul feels like such a relief knowing you're going to come back home to him again every day for hopefully the rest of your life.

You and Sungchan share each dish, savouring your last bites for the foreseeable future. He takes photos of you when he thinks you're not looking and you kick against his feet casually. It feels like you're still in your honeymoon phase, even though you should be celebrating 10 years of your relationship this year. To be fair, it's only been 6 months since you've rekindled, but your love still burns bright like it was never encased into a small flicker.

He holds your hand the entire walk home, brushing his thumb on your skin as he talks your ear off about everything and nothing in the world. Being by his side brings you this peace and comfort that you didn't even realise you were lacking, as if your body has just been running on auto-pilot the past few years without him, surviving only long enough until you were finally reunited again.

"Hana's gonna be so excited too," Sungchan exhales, an air of anticipation in his voice.

One thing about you and Hana- you could keep secrets for the benefit of the other. She knew how shocked you'd be when she turned up at your door in London over a year ago with that ring. You decided to turn the table on your best friend, waiting the 6 months until you got back in Seoul to tell her about the ring that was sitting on the ring finger of your hand.

Even your parents don't know yet, wanting to wait until you could tell them in person. In a perfect world, Sungchan would have liked to ask your parents for your hand in marriage beforehand, but considering how excited they were to see you two holding hands and slow-dancing together at the wedding, neither of you think either set of parents would care.

Your mother has been begging for Sungchan to come and visit the house while you've been in London, claiming she was due a catch up with him, but you begged her to relax until you were back in the city.

"We'll have so much to do when we get back to Seoul," you hum along, "Hana and Taro seemed kinda stressed doing all of it too."

"But now they've experienced it, they can help us," Sungchan shrugs and goes quiet for a second before he starts kind of giggling.

Though it makes your heart burst at his adorable nature, you look at him quizzically, "What?"

"We're getting married," he continues that cute noise as he squeezes your hand in a pulsatile manner, "I'm getting married to the love of my life."

You roll your eyes playfully but your cheeks are turning pink as joy blooms in the depths of your bones, "Yeah, yeah, and lucky you, you didn't even have to organise a proposal."

Sungchan gasps and he splats your still-entwined hands over his heart like he was just shot, "Y/N," he whines, "I told you I would organise one! You don't know how much I want to properly propose to you."

You chuckle at him softly and nudge his side, "I'm just playing. You know that our moment was perfect. It was so very us."

"Don't worry, baby. I'm gonna plan the most perfect wedding for us too," he smiles down at you.

"What did I do to deserve such a sweetheart like you?" you press a kiss into the back of his hand as the two of you enter the tube station together.

You know he hates it whenever you talk about feeling guilty for the past or not being enough for him. You've been working through your feelings over these months, trying to be more open while he does his best to reassure you. But Sungchan gives you this look, just perfectly content in this moment, "I'm just for you, and you're just for me. It'll always be that way. Now let's go home."

a/n: thank you thank you thank you for reading. find my masterlist here & all likes, comments, reblogs and feedback are so, so appreciated <3

[elliestwoleftfingerss]

marry that girl, marry her anyway - simon riley x female!reader

author's note: i was in a writing mood, so voila! (my cat was sat in my lap and i couldn't move, so i was forced to do something Imfao shush)

synopsis: you and simon make a pact to marry at thirty if you're both still single.

pairing: childhood best friend!simon riley x female!reader

proofread: none.

warnings: very mild language, mentions of substance use (alcohol), suggestions to simon's past, simon and reader bestie-d so hard that they made a marriage arrangement <3

"if neither of us are married by the time we're thirty," a twelve-year-old you told simon, holding up your pinky finger in hope that he'd wrap his around yours, sealing the promise you were about to make. "we'll marry each other. you promise?"

offering you a shy smile, simon reached his hand out and used his own little finger to curl around yours. "yeah. i promise."

truth be told, you were both naive kids in the stage of growing up where you had no idea about all the up's and down's of life outside of childhood. the deal, as you saw it now, was something silly; something that you'd both look back on and think, 'how stupid were we to make a promise like that?' being it unlikely you'd actually go through with it. you'd probably forget about it in years to come.

simon moved away some time during secondary school, and you didn't get to see much of him anymore. your conversations consisted of chasing each other over facebook accounts that weren't yours, sneaking your parents' laptop into your bedroom to talk to your friend uninterrupted. you'd both spend hours talking late into the night, rubbing away sleep and prying your eyes open every time your body tried to rest.

it was strange not seeing him in school anymore; that's where you saw him the most, and that's where you'd met. a pair of young seven-year-olds, sitting on opposite sides of a rotting park bench in your crappy primary school. seven-year-old you sat silently, eating your lunch, when simon sat down on the other end of the bench. that's when you looked over at him and innocently offered him a sandwich from your pink, sparkly packed lunch box.

and the friendship just blossomed from there.

you really missed him. at times, you'd catch yourself thinking about him when you weren't talking and instead imagined him sitting right beside you, speaking to you like he'd never left at all. it was bittersweet.

the pair of you kept in contact, but it became difficult as you got older. you had more responsibilities, more reasons that pulled you away from the dream world you experienced whenever you got the opportunity to talk to him. the dream world where you could be best friends forever. but life was never like that.

as you grew up, messages were periodically exchanged. the occasional 'hey, how are you?' message here, the sporadic 'we should meet up' phone call there. it was rare that you two would actually see each other, seeing as you lived your own busy lives, but it was the thought that counted.

you were just glad that, even though he wasn't in your life as much as he once had been, he still took it in himself to check on you. that warmed your heart.

it was almost like a ritual at this point. your phone chimed, the familiar sharp ding drawing your attention. you flipped the device over and opened the notification, your thumb hovering over the screen as you read the message in front of you.

hey. i'm back in town this week, for your birthday. figured we could meet up? go for coffee?

you couldn't help the way your heart skipped a beat at simon's text. he'd remembered your birthday; and he wanted to meet up.

your fingers drifted over the digital keyboard as you thought of a reply before you started typing out a message. the tapping of your fingertips was the only noise as you read what you'd written before sending the text off.

hey,

i'm having a small get-together at my house. you should come. it'd be nice to see you again.

the green active dot floated beside his profile picture - or lack, thereof - before three small circles jumped up at the bottom of the screen to indicate that he was typing again. the phone pinged again.

count me in.

and that was the last message you received before he arrived a week later. it was a saturday evening, and some of your close family and friends were gathered in your house, drinking and chatting. you'd given simon your address, but you were yet to see him.

unbeknownst to you, he slid through the front door, greeted by a few members of your family as he slinked into the small house. as he was paused at the door, he caught sight of you fluttering between rooms, drink in hand. a small, crooked smile graced his face as he spotted you, before he was dragged back into conversation.

you escaped to the freedom of your kitchen after a long conversation with your mother, which you found yourself zoning in and out of, leaning your back against the closed door with a sigh. you forgot how tiring parties could be, especially when you were the host.

with your cup - now empty - in your other hand, you picked yourself up and walked across the kitchen to refill it. the plastic solo cup crinkled as you put it down on the kitchen island, humming a quiet, incoherent tune to yourself as you sought out a replenishment.

aha! your fingers wrapped around the neck of a two-litre bottle of lemonade, holding it to your chest as you twisted the cap. the sizzle of the evanescent beverage masked the sound of the kitchen door opening.

when you turned around to pick up your cup, you almost dropped the plastic bottle to the ground out of shock. a mountain of a bloke stood in the doorway, hands slipped into the pockets of his dark jeans as he took a few steps forward, into the light. his thick plane of chest muscle rippled beneath the tight constraints of a black polo-shirt.

"y/n," he said, that familiar manchunian accent rolling over you like a wave, encapsulating you like a warm blanket.

you stood there for a moment, a little too dumbstruck to come up with a coherent thought. of course, you could recognise that accent anywhere - tinged with a mixture of gruffness and amusement, as per usual.

you knew he'd grown up - obviously - and he joined the military. but you did not expect that.

"simon," you murmured, putting down the bottle so it wouldn't end up slipping from your suddenly-sweaty hands. "jesus christ, you look so-! i didn't recognise you!" you stuttered.

"it's nice to see you too, y/n," he chuckled, the sound deep and gruff in his throat. he strolled forward some more, his steps leisurely as he stopped at the island that separated the pair of you. he put down a card and small, wrapped box that he'd had tucked under his arm. "happy birthday."

"thanks," your gaze fell to what he'd put down on the countertop, before running back up and landing back on his face. "can i get you a drink?"

"please, love," he gave a curt nod, pulling his hands from his pockets and propping them against the edge of the island instead. the petname slipped from his lips as smooth as butter. "anything'll do."

you bent down behind your side of the counter, searching the lower cabinets for another cup. the cover also gave you the opportunity to hide the flush that had appeared on your face and neck. hoo, was it suddenly hot in here? you should open a window, y/n.

"so, the big three-oh, eh?" simon said as you popped back up with an extra cup in your hand. a lazy smirk appeared on his face as he watched you pour him a drink. "that went by quick."

"tell me about it," your eyes darted up to meet his as you tightened the cap on the plastic bottle of lemonade. "how've you been?"

simon's fingers curled around the edge of the island as he didn't let his eyes waver from you. as much as you thought he'd changed, he thought the exact same of you. "that's a loaded question," he chuckled. "mostly good. busy."

you carefully slid the mixed drink over to him. "you still with the military?"

"yup," he said with a soft sigh. "special forces."

both of your eyebrows cocked up simultaneously. "that's an achievement."

"i guess so..." he said, ever the person to avoid too much intrusion. he wasn't all that fond of talking about himself. he paused in his endeavours and picked up the cup, taking a sip before he spoke again. "enough about me; how are you?"

"good, thanks," you said simply.

you were, in all honesty, too distracted to make full conversation as you took in his appearance. the person who was once a scrawny, prepubescent boy was now a giant of a man, built like a tank as he filled in the kitchen doorway. simon riley, the kid who was built like a bean stalk and stayed the same height until he was a teenager, was now standing in your kitchen.

but he wasn't a child anymore, no. he was a man. and a massive one at that.

"what brings you back down this way?" you spoke up, your head cocking slightly to the side as your eyes ran back up to his face. and that's when you saw it. the smirk he was wearing. that god forsaken smirk, the same one that'd got you both in trouble too many times to count. it was painfully obvious that he was thinking about something, and his facial expression was an open door into his train of thought. he was stirring something up, and he was well aware that you knew. "why're you looking at me like that?"

he gave a small shrug and put his cup down on the island, letting his smirk drop to a more neutral expression. "it's your birthday, and i haven't seen you in person for... a while. i couldn't pass it up."

something in your head didn't fully believe him. as much as you loved him, you thought he had another reason to be here. he lived a busy life; surely he wouldn't come all this way for some lousy party? "is that- is that all?"

"actually, come to think of it," he hunched a little over the kitchen island as he peered down into the interesting depths of his drink. "there is something else."

you blinked at him expectantly, wondering what it was he had to say. he pushed the tip of his tongue into his cheek, choking back a small laugh. he couldn't believe he was about to bring this up.

"y'know, when we were little," those brown eyes fluttered back up to meet yours, "you made you promise me something."

he laughed a little louder this time at your expression of apparent confusion. funny. you were always so enthusiastic about the future, and now you couldn't even remember the little thing you told him, though. it wasn't so little, after all. that little promise stuck with simon, and he wasn't a man to break something like that, as much as people would take the piss out of him.

"you had me promise that i'd marry you, by the time you turned thirty," you watched as the behemoth of a man gently pushed his cup across the island, following close behind it so he could step towards you. "what'dya think of that, love?"

oh. well. you didn't expect that.

you don't know what you'd expected. it'd been nearly two decades since you told him you'd marry him. you thought he'd forgotten. heck, you'd forgotten yourself.

"i was a kid, i didn't know what the hell i was on about," you said, eyes slowly following him as he moved himself closer. "we made that promise when we were children."

"it was still a promise. it was real to you."

now that the memory was fresh in your mind, you could see it as clear as day. it was some time during break, at school, and you and simon were sitting under an overgrown willow tree at the near back of the school field - your willow tree.

the grass was green and overgrown underneath, the long, drooping branches just touching the ground. the tree was so overgrown that the grass never got it's monthly cut around the base of the tree; just lazily cut around the perimeter, and it made the perfect cushy spot to shade yourself: from the weather, from the teachers, from the other kids. it was your own little haven where you and simon hid beneath.

you'd both been sat against the trunk, staring into the mass of willow branches as you quietly unpacked your lunch. you pulled two clingfilm wrapped sandwiches from your bag, tossing one to simon. he usually came to school without lunch, which you picked up on, and it became a ritual for you to make an extra sandwich for him and stuff it in your backpack.

the sandwich hit his chest, and he huffed, murmuring a thanks as he started unwrapping it. and that's when your uncensored mouth worked before your little brain could keep up.

"i think we should get married when we grow up," you said, so casually, as if you were having a conversation over tea - well, sandwiches.

simon, who had just taken a bite of his sandwich, stopped mid chew, a bit of lettuce peeking between his lips. his head whipped over to look at you. "come again?" he cocked an eyebrow, his tongue slipping out to pull the piece of greenery into his mouth.

"i said i think we should get married," you said again, your gaze finally darting over. you snickered at his expression. "not now, obviously. when we grow up."

"where'd this idea come from?" he asked, getting over his bewilderment and biting off another bit of salad sandwich.

"dunno," your thumb came up to wipe some stray butter on your top lip, inspecting it before licking it off. "sounds kinda nice. just living with your best friend. ooh, no. we'd need at least four dogs and six cats, too."

simon laughed at your innocent delusion. you may have been close in age, just children, but he didn't really buy into ideas like that. he knew better, when he shouldn't have. they reminded him of his mother and father's marriage - once happy, once full of love, before something changed, some flip was switched. and the entire family; simon, tommy, and their mother, got the brunt of their father's uprising.

but maybe with his best friend, it wouldn't be such a bad thing. they get along just fine, and who would he be to say no to retiring to rest every night to find his bed full of dogs? he wasn't... opposed?

"okay," he swallowed down his mouthful. "but what's in it for me? you get all these animals, but what do i get?"

you thought about it as you thumbed through the layers of your sandwich. "you get to spend more time with me."

"right."

"thirty."

"thirty what?"

"if neither of us are married by the time we're thirty, we'll marry each other. you promise?" you blinked at him, holding up your free hand.

"i promise."

simon folded his arms across his chest, now stood before you. you'd backed up against the fridge, and his movements to lean on the island in front of you pulled you from your recollections.

"yeah... i guess it was... real to me," you murmured, gently shaking your head as you looked back up at him. his smirk had been replaced by a thoughtful look as he inspected you from head to toe. "but it's not that easy anymore, simon."

"of course it is. we can go, right now," he slowly took a sip of his drink before laying it down on the counter, out of the way. "what do you say, y/n?"

"i say..." your words trailed off to silence.

it sounded stupid. you couldn't just go off and marry him. you had responsibilities. you had a life. so did he. and an important one, at that. was that going to put everything else on the line? everything you'd both built? is this the whole reason he came to the party tonight?

but the line between what you needed and what you wanted were two different things. and yet, they started to blur. fading into one life where you had everything you required, and everything you desired. and what you wanted right now?

you wanted him. you needed him.

"marry me, y/n?" his voice had dropped an octave, and he'd taken a step closer to you. you watched him hopelessly, pushing your hair back from your face.

"yes," you whispered, so quietly he probably wouldn't have heard had he not been standing so close.

and with your breathless acceptance, he slammed his lips against yours.

author's note: i blatantly REFUSE to believe that this man isn't a hopeless romantic 😌💅 hope you enjoyed, me pookarinos <3

[67bottles-of-milk]

Not Just Roommates

Finally, Jason lets you meet his family.

~5k words

Part 1

For weeks following Jason and Dick’s conversation, his family tried to convince Jason to let them meet you. They each had their own tactic.

—

Bruce tried invitations to family events and galas.

“You know, it would be really nice if you brought this girlfriend of yours to dinner this-” 

“Nice try old man. Not happening, you really think I’m gonna bring her here just so you can interrogate her? Absolutely not.” Jason didn’t even look up from his bike in the cave. Bruce was dejected at the harsh rejection before perking up, ready for another suggestion. “No, she’s not coming to the gala next week either. Don’t expect me to be there either; it’s date night.” He was quickly cut off with even more rejection. 

“Come on, Jaylad, why not? We just want to meet her, make sure she’ll treat you right,” Bruce tried to reason. That definitely caught Jason’s attention properly. 

“Look, Bruce, I’m twenty two years old and Red Hood. Tell me honestly, and to my face, that you think I would willingly stay with someone who doesn’t treat me right?” Jason’s voice was entirely flat, if a bit condescending. 

“Alright but at least introduce me before you decide to get married to her.”

—

Dick tried to invite himself to Jason’s through various scenarios.

“Hey, Little Wing. Mind if I swing by this weekend? I’d love to spend some quality bonding time together but I know the manor is a mess at the minute with all the preparations for the gala.” Dick had just landed on the roof next to his brother. Seeing Bruce’s direct attempts failing, he decided to take a more sly approach, disguising it as just coming over once or twice to spend time with him and hopefully, at some point be there at the same time you were. If the two of you even lived together. If it didn’t work, he would at least still be able to spend some time with Jason which was always a win in his books. 

“Sure.” Jason’s response made Dick absolutely light up with anticipation. Maybe he actually had a shot at being able to meet you. “ If you can figure out where I live.” Immediately, his hopes were dashed. The entire family had put in quite a bit of effort into finding out where Jason lived but so far, they couldn’t find a single trace of him. Not even a name on any leases or deeds to any place of residence in the entire city, likely under a fake name.

For a while, Bruce was worried Jason was just living somewhere on the street but that was put to rest from some defensive and highly indignant yelling from Jason about how he has an entire apartment that is clean and tidy and that he sleeps in every single night– well, morning. 

—

Tim just avoided going through Jason and decided to figure out who you were all on his own. 

It wasn’t like Jason would give him an answer anyway, might as well skip the trouble and go straight to internet sleuthing. Unfortunately, all he had so far was Jason’s phone number with no social media attached to it aside from an empty instagram profile that wasn’t following anyone and was only followed by family and Jason’s teammates.

He tried Damian’s to see if he followed anyone out of the ordinary. No luck there either. Damian only followed a handful of people. If only Tim had your name, he could do so much more. Although, he supposes, if he had your name then the entire family could have a much easier time meeting you. 

—

“I hate my family sometimes,” Jason sighed, laying beside you as you sat in bed. He pushed his face into your waist and curled into a ball as well as he could. Your hand rubbed his back, resting on the back of his neck after a moment. 

“What have they done this time?” 

“Won’t leave me the fuck alone. God, why can’t they just mind their own business?” You breathed a laugh at his whiny tone. 

“Well, maybe they’re just happy for you? I mean, come on, when was the last time you had a partner?” You teased, pushing his face away from you to look at him properly. 

“I don’t know. Didn’t really have the time for anything when I came back. All anger and revenge y’know? Not much time for love and care like I have with you.” He ended the sentence with a kiss on your hand. 

“Well aren’t you just a sweet talker? I love you, Jay.” 

“I love you more, sweetheart.” 

—

You and Damian were sitting on the sofa, so engrossed in your conversation and entirely ignoring the movie in the background. Meanwhile, Jason was pacing back and forth in the kitchen. He was chewing his thumbnail as he went around in circles in his head debating with himself whether it was a good idea or not. 

“Jaylove? Can you put the kettle on please?” He stopped and looked up at you, leaning over the sofa with a soft smile on your face. He felt his cheeks warm at the sight of you. You were absolutely gorgeous, the love of his life. He nodded resolutely, turning to fill the kettle up before turning to the bedroom. 

“I’ll be back in a minute, it’s cold as hell.” It was not. In all honesty, it was actually pretty cosy but he could get away with wearing a jumper for a bit. He watched as you got up behind him, mugs in hand to replenish drinks for all three of you. Jason took the chance to message Damian while you weren’t sitting directly next to the kid. Not that you would read his messages but he wasn’t risking it.

I’m doing it. Scram.

Actually can you record it? Wanna keep the memory.

If I must.

You’re far too sentimental.

With everything sorted, Jason pulled his jumper over his head and felt around in his pockets. Good, it was still there. As he made his way out to the kitchen where you were, he spotted Damian leaning over the back of the sofa, much like you were just moments ago except now with his phone in hand, clearly in sight with the camera pointing at you making hot chocolate. Real subtle. Thankfully you were too lost in your own world to notice.

“Hey sweetheart,” Jason spoke softly, spinning you by the waist. “Got a question for you.” 

“I’ve got an answer for you.” You put your hand over his where it rests on your hip before he pulled away again, both hands in his pockets. Jason pulled them back out again, just a moment later only to bend down to the floor on one knee. 

“You are my soulmate. The love of my life. My everything. I know we’re young and I know we talked about waiting until after we graduated but I want you now and forever and I don’t think I could wait to ask you any longer.” His words were heavy with nothing but adoration as he looked you in the eyes. “Will you marry me?” Immediately, you dropped to the floor with him and dragged him into a tight hug. It was short lived as you immediately pulled back, kissing every inch of his face.

“You know damn well I will. Absolutely I’ll marry you, Jason Todd.” His joy overwhelmed him completely, his eyes shining and crinkling in the corners, his smile stretching as far as it could. He took your hand, sliding a simple ring on your finger as the gemstone in the middle reflected the kitchen light. A bright laugh bubbled up as Jason lifted you in the air to spin around, kissing you deeply the moment your feet touched the floor once again. 

“Can we return to the movie now?” Damian piped up from his position in the living room, done recording and already in the process of sending the video to Alfred.

—

The next day, everyone had made it for the monthly family dinner, even Steph and Babs were in attendance. Jason was last in, running late as a result of the rush hour traffic. Nothing he could do when he had classes to attend still. Alfred was the first to greet him as he made his way to his seat at the table. 

“Congratulations on the excellent news, Master Jason.” It was just one sentence offered as the butler returned to the kitchen to finish bringing dishes to the table. A momentary pause rang through the room as everyone turned to look in curiosity. What news would Jason have that would be excellent?

“What’s new with you then?” Dick poked, hoping he wouldn’t be immediately brushed off. He was not very lucky.

“Nothing really, just finally managed to get something done I’ve been meaning to for a while now. Nothing that concerns you.” He was more focused on getting food on his plate. Despite not wanting to directly fuel his family’s incessant need to be in his business all the time, he was still excited to show off. And so, he was very deliberate in using his left hand to reach across the table for each platter. With a family full of detectives, it was not long before at least one of them caught on.

“Jason.” It was Bruce that caught it first, afterall he was really the only person sitting to the left of him. “Is that a ring on your hand?” It was a calculatingly calm tone. One that was almost perfect in hiding Bruce’s emotions.

“Yeah.” He didn’t want you to be the only one wearing a ring. Sure, it wasn’t the most traditional thing for him to be wearing a ring himself but he wanted everyone to know that he was a committed and taken man, even if you weren’t his wife just yet. 

“ Please do not tell me you got married and didn’t invite or even tell any of us.” Bruce had dropped the calmness and replaced it with tired exasperation.

“Of course not.” Jason spoke with faux offence. “Damian was there.” Dick slammed his hands on the table and stood up with such speed his chair would’ve fallen if not for Cass catching it as it tipped backwards. 

“Are you kidding me!? You got married and I wasn’t even invited? How could you, Little Wing, I thought we were brothers?” Dick was tearing up, the hurt evident in his voice as he sank back into his chair defeated. 

“Worry not Grayson, he has yet to marry, they are merely betrothed.” Damian spoke up. “They agreed that they would not get married until the two have achieved their degrees.” Without even thinking, he added more fuel to the fire. 

“Wait a minute, degrees? The two? Jason, you’re getting a degree?” Tim jumped into the conversation now, entirely baffled at the concept of Jason pursuing higher education. 

“Uh, yeah? I’m in my final year dude, been studying literature for a solid two years now. What do you think I’ve been doing all day?” Jason asked, acting as if he hasn’t kept almost every aspect of his life to himself since he came back. 

“To be honest? I assumed you were just sleeping all day.” Tim shrugged.

“I thought you were working a part time job somewhere.” Dick chimed in.

“I was under the impression you were continuing operations as Red Hood during the day with the other Outlaws.” Bruce’s conception was the most accurate considering he did still hang out with Roy some weekends.

“Well, you’re all wrong. I’ve been going to Gotham University to study literature. Don’t know if I’ll do anything with my degree since, y’know, but it’s always there for me to fall back on anyhow.” 

“So, now that you’re engaged, will we be meeting this fiancee of yours any time before the wedding?” Bruce pushed. 

“Maybe.” 

—

Maybe came just over two weeks later. 

Jason was out for the day, helping Roy with a case he was struggling with and so it was just you at home. Well, for the morning anyway; Damian had said he would be over in the afternoon to watch the next movie in the series. (How this boy had made it so far in life and had seen neither The Hobbit nor The Lord of the Rings was beyond you but you were rectifying that and so The Battle of the Five Armies was on the watchlist for this evening.) 

Taking a long look in the cupboards and through the fridge, you sighed and pulled your shoes and coat on. Grocery shopping was long overdue. Now that you had used the last of the milk in your coffee this morning, you took it as a sign that it was time for the bi-weekly shop. 

As you wandered around your usual grocery store, you turned a corner to be met with a familiar scowl. 

“Damian? This is an excellent coincidence, I was just about to call and see if you wanted any particular snacks for movie night tonight.” You smiled as you approached further only to come face to face with an older man you vaguely recognised. “Ah. Hello.” 

“Damian, you know this woman?” Dick asked, turning to look at the young man in question. Damian sighed with annoyance. 

“Todd will be most displeased. Grayson, this is Todd’s betrothed.” He then turned to you with an equally stern look on his face. “I would like that toffee popcorn you bought last time. It was pleasant.” Dick turned to look at you with utter surprise and unadulterated glee.

“Oh my God, you’re the fiancee!! It is so lovely to meet you finally, Little Wing has been so insistent on keeping us from meeting you. Besides Dami, here of course but they’ve got their own weird connection that I’m not even sure where it came from.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Richard.” You offered a smile. He grimaced at his own name. 

“Please, just Dick is fine.” He insisted, almost desperate. 

“Sure, Dick. Anyway, it has been lovely to meet you but I have shopping to bring home. Damian, I’ll see you later?” He nodded and waved goodbye as you headed for the tills to pay. 

—

Jason didn’t come home until the credits of the movie rolled and Damian was slouched over, snoring quietly. 

“Hey Love, how was your day?” Jason stooped over the backrest of the sofa to press a kiss to your temple. 

“Pretty alright, got some washing done, went grocery shopping. You will never guess who I came across today though.” You smiled, pushing off the sofa and gathering empty bowls and cups to take to the kitchen. 

“Who? Charlotte?” He guessed, settling a blanket over Damian and turning off the TV. 

“Better. Dick. Ran into him and Dami in the shop. Stopped to say hi and get acquainted. I mean, gotta meet the in-laws at some point, right?” You shrugged, stacking the dishes in the sink to be done at a later time. At least when Damian was awake and wouldn’t be disturbed by the rushing water. A muffled groan came from Jason as he slumped onto the sofa with his head in his hands. 

“Great. Just great. Now they’re not going to leave us alone. This is just what I needed.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it would be an issue. I mean, it was bound to happen eventually and it’s not like he’s Black Mask out to get you.” Jason sighed and reached for you to pull close.

“It’s not that. I just wanted to keep you to myself for a little longer. They can be really overbearing and they love nothing more than to be all up in my business as though it were their own. I hate it a lot. I just don’t want them to come and ruin the peace I have here with you.” You rubbed his hand before pressing a kiss to his knuckles as reassurance. 

“They don’t have to know where we live. I am more than okay with meeting them at the manor or even in a restaurant somewhere. It doesn’t have to be all in. them getting to know me doesn’t have to mean them getting to know every single aspect of our lives.” You tried to comfort Jason, convince him that meeting his family will not be the end all be all of your peaceful life together. 

“Yeah but I know that as soon as they have even something to go off of, they’re going to do their shitty detective work and find out as much as they can. Hell, I wouldn’t be shocked if either Tim or Bruce ran a background check on you the moment they learned your name.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’ll think about it. I know they’ll have to meet you eventually, especially since we’re going to be getting married and then you will literally be part of the family. I just… I need some time to consider.” 

And so later that evening, once Damian had returned home, Jason surprised you by having a shower and coming back to the bedroom dressed in– not his usual nighttime outfit of leather and kevlar, but instead cotton and polyester. He was sporting the Hello Kitty pyjama pants you had gotten him as a joke one day. It wasn’t often Jason joined you so early in bed but tonight, he seemed to be having the night off. 

Wordlessly, you shifted to sit more upright and opened your arms in invitation. He crawled over the bed and settled his head on your chest and curled the rest of his body around you. Soothing circles were rubbed into his back as he closed his eyes in thought.

“You really want to meet my family?” Jason shifted to rest his chin on you and look directly into your eyes. You pushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. 

“Jaylove, you know I love you. I will not marry you before meeting your family and I refuse to meet them at our wedding. So yes, I really want to meet your family. I can tell, despite all your grumblings about them, that they’re important to you. So I would love to come to the next family dinner and finally have a meal made by Alfred that hasn’t been microwaved in tupperware.” He sighed and went back to pressing as much of his face against you as possible. 

“I love you more. Alright, next family dinner I’ll bring you along. Unluckily for you, that’s this Friday.” 

—

Friday rolled around and the manor was as it usually was for family dinner: loud, chaotic, and full of bickering and teasing. Most of all, it was warm and everyone was honestly just there to have a good time. Even when there are grudges being held and long term disagreements that have yet to be settled, everyone calls a truce for the monthly Friday night dinner. It was Alfred’s rule and no one wanted to cross Alfred. There were no exceptions. 

Naturally, Jason had only informed Alfred of your company for the night since he would need to set an extra place at the table. Not even Damian knew because he hadn’t been over since movie night for you to tell him and Jason certainly wouldn’t. So when Jason walked in with a woman holding his hand? Silence. 

“Oh my God. She’s way too pretty for you.” Steph was the first to snap out of it and was immediately on her feet, snatching your hand from Jason and holding both close to her chest as she leaned close to your face. Her face lit up with a mischief that Jason dreaded to see. “So what’s he like at home? His room here is always so messy with books and clothes like everywhere. He’s barely ever here nowadays so I don’t even know how he keeps it so messy.” 

“Honestly? I don’t mind the mess, it’s not like he’s dirty anyway. Jay’s got like the cleanest hygiene habits of anyone I know for the most part. My favourite evenings are definitely our self care spa nights.” You giggled behind your hand, leaning in as though you were telling her a secret.

“Wait, you guys have spa nights? That’s so cute. And it honestly makes so much sense now. No wonder his skin is practically porcelain despite wearing his goddamn helmet all the time!” You now shot her a confused look, head tilting in question.

“Helmet? What helmet?” Stephanie panicked as she looked to the other family, each also showing varying degrees of distress. So you didn’t know? They would have to be careful.

“Uh, well, his… his motorcycle helmet! Yeah, his motorcycle helmet. I mean, he rides around on his bike everywhere, it’s practically his kid y’know?” 

Jason was sat confused, there was no way you didn’t realise she meant his Red Hood helmet, right? As you came to sit next to him, you gave him a saccharine smile. “I didn’t know you rode a motorcycle, Jay! I guess even after being in a relationship for over two years, there are still things to learn about each other.” Oh. You were going to mess with his family. This is why he was going to marry you. 

“So, it’s nice to finally meet the woman my son has decided to commit his life to. Bruce Wayne, a pleasure to meet you.” Bruce nodded politely with an even expression, cutting into the conversation so dinner could finally begin.

“It’s lovely to be able to meet Jaylove’s family, he’s told me so much about you all. I mean, Tim! It’s so impressive that you’re running a company while still attending school. I bet you definitely sleep well at night.” The boy in question shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of his prominent eyebags and the red bull he’d poured into his glass for the meal. The fact he had barely slept more than ten consecutive minutes in the past few days also flashed to his forethoughts. 

“Yeah. Definitely eight hours every night.” He awkwardly shifted in his seat. 

“Of course, I’ve heard about you Dick and all the hard work you do as a police officer over in Bludhaven. Truly an admirable line of work.” Dick sat up straighter now that he had been directly included in the conversation. Finally, someone around that wouldn’t admonish him and berate him for his day job. 

“Thank you, it can be tough sometimes, especially considering the high level of crime around but growing up here in Gotham, it really isn’t much different working over there. Y’know? Besides, I have help.” You nodded along solemnly, a serious expression on his face as he talked about the struggles of his line of work. 

“Indeed. Incredibly honorable and very inspiring to see someone willing to follow protocols and the correct way to do things. Unlike those good for nothing ‘vigilantes’ that run around Gotham at night.” At that, everyone stiffened up and shot disbelieving glances across the table. The only ones seemingly unaffected were Jason, Damian, and Bruce. Jason was muffling his laugh with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, Damian was pretending he couldn’t hear anything as he pet Titus under the table. Bruce, commendably, didn’t even so much as twitch as he looked on thoughtfully. 

“Interesting. Care to elaborate?” It wasn’t often Bruce got to hear the honest and unfiltered opinions of Gotham citizens on his family’s nighttime operations. Sure, there were forums where people would discuss them but oftentimes, they were exaggerated or just trolls looking for entertainment by spouting hate. 

“Of course. I mean, there’s no way I would ever let my kids go out at night in kevlar speedos to beat people up. Granted, the robin costumes have gotten better over the years, the first two really should’ve had a bit more common sense. No. Actually, Batman really should’ve been more responsible. He’s the one who trained them to go out there in the first place, he couldn’t at least educate them on wearing safe and proper clothes on the job? Like, come on dude, so not a safe working environment.” That earned a few giggles around the table. 

“Is your grief with them just their costumes?” Barbara asked. Your answer came a brief moment later. 

“Honestly? Yeah, I think so. I mean, there have been some good choices made lately. The current Robin’s newest outfit is definitely my favourite. Red Robin’s cowl moment? Atrocious. Bowling ball. But like, straight into the gutter, you wouldn’t even hit a single pin. Definitely nothing to complain about with Spoiler though. The eggplant? I love it, and the transition from the full face cover to the half mask? It’s honestly everything.” Steph clapped from her seat, nodding fervently. 

“See? I’m not the only one that thinks I- she looks good in it. Can’t believe everyone keeps saying she should pick a different colour that isn’t as obvious to see. Like c’mon.” You pointed over at her with a grin. 

“NO SEE SHE GETS IT. Like, Red Hood? Dude that thing is fucking chrome, in the streetlights, I swear he’d be reflecting like one of those rainbow prisms. Like calm it down. Could never argue with a man whose thighs are the size of my head though.” You nodded and sat back in your chair. From the side of you, Jason looked at you incredulously. 

“How dare you. For one, you fucking love that helmet, I don’t want a word out of you on that front. Second, you and I know damn well my thighs are bigger than your head and you would absolutely argue with me. And you do. Just yesterday you were arguing with me when I said we should have peonies on the tables at our wedding because they’re your favourite but you said no because they would be out of season since you want a fall wedding.” He huffed and sat back in his chair. 

“Yeah well, I don’t want a fake flower bouquet. It’s just not the same.” Dick held up his hands as he processed the words Jason had said just a few moments ago. 

“Woah, wait a second. Can we backtrack just a second? You know he’s Red Hood?” You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, yeah? This man cannot keep a secret from me to save his life. Proposing was the one thing he’s ever managed to surprise me with, like, ever.” You shrugged, like it was no big deal to know that your fiance was Gotham’s most infamous crime lord and one of the few people actively on the Justice League’s wanted list. “Also, back to the topic of suits, Dick, can you please tell me what possessed you to wear the Discowing suit? That in and of itself was probably the turning point for at least one Gotham rogue.” You went back giving him the side eye with your lips pursed and an eyebrow raised. 

“How dare you, that was the pinnacle of fashion at the time and I will not stand for this slander!” His chair fell from under him as he stood up, slamming his hands on the table. A sharp cough from the doorway caught everyone’s attention. 

“Master Richard, I think you will find you have just, in fact, stood for ‘this slander’ so if you would please return to your seat, that would be most obliged. And if we could refrain from slamming the table, thank you.” Alfred spared no more words as he turned and went back to wherever he had come from in the first place. Everyone was silent at the table for a moment before everyone broke out into raucous laughter at Dick’s expense as he sat with his head on the table. Even Bruce stifled a laugh behind his palm. 

—

The dinner, from that point on, had gone without incident. Jason was so happy to see you get along well with his family. Even if he didn’t get along with them all of the time, and they had more than their fair share of disagreements, they were still his family and he (not that he’d ever admit, even to himself) loved them as such. 

He didn’t realise how nervous he’d been until you were back home, getting ready for bed. You were sat in bed, watching as Jason pulled on his socks while getting ready to go out for the night. Without warning, you launched yourself at his back, tangling your arms around his neck and grappling your legs around his waist. Taken off guard, he let himself be dragged backwards onto the bed as you smothered the top of his head and forehead with kisses. 

“I love you so much. Thank you for letting me meet your family.” Jason breathed out and pressed kisses into your forearms resting over his shoulders. 

“I love you more, might as well meet them before they start causing problems about it. Now, sweetheart, as much as I love you and I love this, I have to get going. Big bad guys to catch and all.” You relented your hold and pulled his face in for one last kiss before the boots and helmet went on.

“Alright, but I’d better be meeting Roy soon.” You pointed at him and blew another kiss to where he stood by the window, hands braced on the frame with one foot already halfway out. 

“Whatever you want.”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I'm Back (Did Ya Miss Me?)

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

May 2025 Catch Up

Buckle up beeaches, we got a lot to cover.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Knock Out (Fri WeTV ) ep 1 of 12 - I called this one (via the trailer) "a low quality less fun/funny version of Wandee Goodday" and I am thoroughly ashamed of myself.

It's GREAT.

Harsh but i like it. And the fighting is quite good. Thun has a very Lan Wangji aspect to him. Protective, monosyllabic, powerful seemingly disengaged... still waters fuck run deep and all that. Poor Keen is downtrodden, clever, and adorable. It's a great dynamic, I like this a whole lot more than I expected. The pacing is even good. I'm so pleased with this BL! Damnit why did WeTV have to win this crop of new offerings?

My Stubborn (Sun iQIYI) eps 3-4 of 10 - of course it's stupid high heat nonsense, that always ranks higher than it should for me.

3 Sorn just treats Jun like a living doll meets boyfriend and I'm kinda into the kink of it. Jun is treating him like a first time dildo so what's good for the top is good for the bottom, I guess? Also i got my bites so I'm pleased. I like that Jun is a snarky tsundere who knows how to stand up for himself. Refreshing take on the archetype.

4 I’m not opposed to this style office whipping boy in this particular show. No idea why. I just like it with these characters. I think it’s cause Sorn is so clearly in love, and literally has no idea what to do except bully the boy. Life's tough for a tsundere seme with a mad crush on an easygoing sunshine uke.

Top Form (Thurs WeTV) eps 7-9 of 10 - Yet another installment of get that boy a therapist not a boyfriend. How many is that now? Countless.

7 I like how they chose to translate the pronouns (jao et al) from old-fashioned Thai into old-fashioned English (thee/thou et al)! It worked really well. I've been waiting for someone clever to do this. Well done Khun Translator! We likie!

I have to talk about how good Boom is after having seen him in his previous (not good) BL. (Where he played the seme character with a completely different screen energy.) He really is a stellar actor.

8 Way to get your fetish shoe-horned in their Japan, even when you’re being adapted. I’ve got to say that these two not only have decent chemistry, they’re really great at kissing for camera. They seem to be very aware of where the lens is and making sure their angles are good. It’s an unusual skill. It’s rare for both parties to be this aware as well simultaneously good at execution.

PROPS! They got sasaeng motivation down! Someone did their research.  

9 DOOM ep!!! 

Boys in Love (Sun iQIYI ) ep 3-4 of 12 -

3 I identify with Shane so much, re-organizing for avoidance is exactly what I do when emotional. Now that there’s an element of angst, I’m enjoying this show a little bit more, it feels more high school and less sappy.

4 They are EXTREMELY cute! This has a kind of modern Lovesick vibe to it, which I guess they’re going for? But it’s really hard to nail that without a bit of edge (which GMMTV rarely does. Still, I’m liking this better than I did at first.

The Next Prince (Sat iQIYI) eps 1-3 of 14 - Hotly anticipated 3 yr production featuring ZeeNewNu in a fantasy/historical where Zee plays a knight bodyguard and Nu a prince fighting for his right to inherit.

1 Okay Princess Diaries BL, let's do this thing! It's all very fancy and it would like us to very-much know how fancy it is. Zee is still hot.  The fight scenes are still not. I don’t know where this is going. But the chemistry is good so *shrug*. I am in ecstasies over how incredibly not-British that supposedly British party was.

2 This show is wildly bad. But the wildly part is fun. Absolutely nothing makes sense, you could ride a motorcycle through those plot holes. No one behaves logically, unless you assume it is a straight up fairytale. Secondary couple is giving TulHin vibes and I am IINTO IT. You know I love a good whipping boy. 

3 So they are misogynistic but not homophobic? That doesn’t make sense. Are we in a Hellenistic cultural model or something? Oh no, I’m applying logic again. Must turn off brain-meats. That gold crown looks exactly like a hot cross bun.

Could we please get onto the secondary couple at this juncture? They look so cute and I’m mad that we haven’t seen anything substantial with them yet.

Pit Babe 2 (Fri iQIYI) eps 1-3 of 13 - More conspiracy and struggles but less omegaverse.

I have to admit to reservations upfront. It took me days to finally watch the first episode. Historically I’m not a big fan of second seasons in BL. And while I enjoyed Pit Babe OG at the time, it’s not my favorite chaos BL. I convinced myself to watch the new installment by simply saying it would be all right if they messed with any of the other couples, so long as they left AlanJeff alone. And now. The chaos.

1 Of course I love Willy. Hot & creepy = my kryptonite. Nice to see Nut again, even nicer to hear that beautiful voice of his. 

2 Okay whatever. Just don't break up Alan & Jeff. 

3 I said not to mess with AlanJeff, didn't I? Argh. Meanwhile Kenta remains my favorite precious peanut. Also his arm muscles have returned in force, I see. Excellent.

Honestly, I rarely watch BTS footage, except for this show. The cast just seem to be having so much fun. I think I like the BTS better than the actual show.

I am so happy to have them back on my screen.

My Sweetheart Jom (Fri YT) ep 1 of 12 - I admit I wasn't sold on this one from the trailer but Saint is back and I'm disposed to be intrigued by the kind of script that would pull him in. So far it feels a bit Tale of Thousand Stars lite.

I love the 3 kids = one brain cell side kicks. I also like the personalities of the main characters. They are both noble and caring in their own way. I enjoy that aspect. it remains to be seen what their chemistry as like as a couple. But I’m enjoying this more than I thought I would.

The BangkokBoy (Sat Gaga) eps 2-4 of 12 -

2 Now we know how everything went down. I fast-forward through a lot of the fighting in prison. I think as our leads still haven’t met we can assume that this is not quite a BL. I think there’s also a chance that this one might not end happy. If my spidey sense goes off within the next three episodes I might drop it until I know for sure.

3 I’m going to ban Thailand and Vietnam from using flashbacks until episode six of any given show. You can’t use filler so early on in a series! Just take a shorter run time. It would be great if the main couple actually met at some point in this damn show.

4 Oh dear. More triggers. Everyone in the show is either a psychopath or utterly broken. At least our boys finally had a date. Prat fall kiss was not necessary in this style of show.

Loy Kaew First Love (Fri YT) ep 1 of 6 - I said I wasn’t gonna watch this one, but then it just dropped into my YouTube feed and who am I to resist? It’s a pretty simple story about two boys falling in love in a remote village where that just isn't a thing so everyone is against them. The scenery and the culture is interesting and different from what we are used to. It's got slightly better production values than I was expecting, and the chemistry is good. So a surprise continue for me, but I will warn you that this style of BL from Thailand only ends happily about 50% of the time, so I may drop it if I feel it's gonna head south.  

Sweet Tooth Good Dentist (Fri iQIYI) eps 6-8 of 12 - When they are a couple, they’re an extremely cute couple. But it starts and ends there.

6 The most ridiculous love triangle ever. As is often the case with me and love triangles could we not just have the lead and the secondary get together instead? Jimmy & Mark have great chemistry. 

7 Oh i don't know. And frankly I don’t think they do either.

8 Finally all of Sant’s trauma and background come out. Also they're good kissers. But I'm not warming to this show for some reason.

Eye Contact (Weds WeTV) ep 1 of 12 - Uni BL about a boy and a very hot campus star. Oh goodie. Something new and different for us.

It’s about what i expected. Not good but the actors are seasoned. (I already miss PokeTongue.) The production is truly awful - the sound being particularly bad and inconsistent. But frankly, I've seen worse. It's very "ordinary bottom trope" (Japan's term not mine) with 2 hot guys chasing/bullying our nerd for no apparent reason. Plot twist! Our ordinary is not so ordinary at all! And I kind of like that bit. Oh it’s still truly bad, but am I gonna keep watching it anyway? Hell yes.

Mission to the Moon (YT) 1-6 of 12 - Short form BL airing on YT, historical reincarnation romance combined with my ghost bf trope. Not sure how this one will end happy, but it's so low impact I'm watching it anyway. So far it's... fine.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Sweetheart Service (Korea Fri YT) eps 1-2 of 12 - After being pressured by his family to get married, Min U asks Yu Ha to pretend to be his fiancé.

1 I’m enjoying it. Although Strongberry seems to have dropped in quality to the level of that other Korean company that’s airing short form on YouTube these days. In other words, it doesn’t really have its signature style anymore.

2 Despite my reservations around the directing and filming, I'm enjoying this show. They know where it’s at. There hitting all their marks for and old-school BL this time around. Carry on, I trust you.

Fight for You (Taiwan Fri Gaga) eps 7-9 of 12 -

7 They are awfully cute. I am starting to be scared of all the lies tho. 

8 Pretty much the same as last week. Honestly, not a lot is changing each episode. This one doesn’t seem to be progressing much.

9 Finally the DOOM ep. Cry babies, CRY.

It Finished, I'm Mildly Annoyed

Business as Usual (Korea) Final thoughts - An office reunion romance about college boyfriends meeting each other again in the workplace. Korea doing its bog standard miscommunication for the sake of plot + catlike tsundere uke but with surprise! sex out the gate. This one was mostly frustrating although the chemistry was decent and the love triangle wasn't really (yay!). It's fine. 8/10

Something Is Not Right (Korea) Final thoughts - Look, this is essentially a story of unrequited love out of willful unwillingness to believe the truth when it is staring you in the face AND told directly to you clearly. One boy confesses and then refuses to take the yes that came after it as a yes. (Like a reverse Mr Collins.) As a consequence this ended up being one of the most frustrating KBLs I've seen in a long time. Quality and performance-wise this is probably an 8/10 BL, but out of pure annoyance I gave it a 7/10. You’re pissing me off, Korea.

Stand By Me (Vietnam YT) Final thoughts - I binge watched this on my travels. 2 young boys form a bond in childhood but are parted. They reunite later in high school (the older is college age). The older one us very puppy fixated and the younger very cat tsundere. It's fine. Stuff kinda happens. There are other characters. Who do... stuff. 6/10

Last Meal Universe (Thai) 8 eps - An alien who has come to destroy earth instead falls in love with Thai food and then the Thai boy who cooks it - realistic, actually. It's done, should I bother?

Lost in the Woods (Gaga) 7 eps - Not my thing, dropped at ep 2. All signs point to no change to that opinion so I won't be reviewing.

It's airing but......

Sashes and Hearts (Pinoy YT) 13 eps - Philippines is doing Drop Dead Gorgeous only all gay boys queening their asses off. Doesn't interest me, not sure if it's BL.

Secret Ghost (Thai Sat Viu) ?? eps - The trailer dropped and it looks so bad.

My Golden Blood (Weds iQIYI) 12 eps - dropped at ep 5.

In other news

Bain of Kpop group JUST B comes out - pretty historic for the industry, actually.

Yes, Viki was down for a bit mid week. It's back up again.

I rewatched while traveling

Light on Me - of course it’s still great, this is one of my few 10/10s for a reason.

My School President - I actually thought the pacing was better on a rewatch, during the original I got a little bored, this time I could simply ff through all of the stuff to do with music. It increased my enjoyment of it even more. Still a favorite.

La Pluie - I still hold with the first half being excellent, it's the second half where it loses itself (and me). Still a solid show with good core concepts an interesting things to say about major tropes. The rewatch didn’t change my opinion at all.

Cosmetic Play Lover - what can I say, I love this stupid show.

Tokyo in April is... - still a big sad for me, but a lot easier to take now that I know exactly what happens (and happened). This time around, I appreciated the performances more. Since I wasn’t as caught up in the story, I could really evaluate their nuances. It’s a great show. If you don’t mind your BL dark.

Next Week Looks Like This: Frigay is BACK!

Still Coming in May

5/18 Season of Love in Shimane AKA Ai no Kisetsu: The Season of Love (Thai) - Sequel to Kiseki Chapter 2 which I intensely disliked. I won't be watching this.

5/19 I Promise I Will Come Back (Thai Mon WeTV) 10 eps - A Thai Taiwanese colab. Stars two Thai actors and Taiwanese identical twins from H3. However the lead and co-producer Tontae is actually a very good actor, so this could be good unless it's oen of those mostly intended to be a tourism advert for the Thai countryside. We shall see!

5/22 The Ex-Morning (Thai Thurs YT?) 10 eps - trailer Y This is an original script written just for the OG, direct by Lit (SOTUS) about a news reporter plagued by scandal who must work with his PR ex-boyfriend to rebuild his reputation. A reunion romance that's hitting pretty close to the IRL pair branded mark. It's no secret that (much as I make room for SOTUS because of it's significance) I don't love this pair, but we shall see what we get. Of course I'm gonna watch it. I have some standards to uphold - even if they don't.

Also: if GMMTV brought Ohm T on board simply to use him as everybody’s incredibly hot ex bf who turns up at opportune times, I’m actually really happy with that decision.

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S MONTH'S BEST MOMENTS (SO FAR)

He is SO CUTE. You know me and dimples.

This moment felt so honestly high school. (both Boys in Love)

Oh he's so damn proud of himself. (My Stubborn)

I just can't with these two, they are such good kissers. (Top Form)

If evil why so hot? (PIt Babe 2)

(last 3 weeks ago)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[liminalmemories21]

fuck it friday

@leashybebes did an open call, and @rcmclachlan tagged me earlier this week.

And today - despite having meetings that were not on my calendar when I left work yesterday evening (I call foul) - @cecilyv and I wrote (or well, we threw shit at each other in chat last night and cleaned it up today - tomato tomahto)

uh, loosely a double 5+1 of ten times they were friends, and one time they weren't. Which is to say, it was going to be a 5+1, but then we had a brainstorm last night, and now it ... more than that.

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

“How was your day?” Evan asks one afternoon when they’re meeting for an after-shift breakfast?  lunch?.  Technically it’s probably too late to call it brunch, but he’s ordering pancakes because it was that kind of a shift, so whatever.

“I’m going to be on youtube,” he tells Evan gloomily.

That gets Evan to look up from the menu.  “Really?”

“Really,” he confirms.  Nods thank you to the waitress who brings them coffee.

“How?” Evan asks.  Pauses to order a Western omelet with homefries - not doing keto this week apparently.  He’d never figured out a way to tell Evan that he liked the softness of his slight belly - fat layered over muscle, signs that he was comfortable in his own skin.  Happy.

He orders pancakes and eggs and bacon.  Fuck it, he’s earned his carbs today.

“Youtube rehabbers,” he mutters.  Points his spoon at Evan.  “Bought an old Spanish Revival up in the hills, doing one of those week by week series about how they’re restoring it.  And it’s supposed to be charming that they don’t know what they’re doing, and they’re learning as they go.”

“Asbestos,” Evan says with feeling, “Lead paint.”

“Exactly,” he agrees.  “They decided structural engineers are for suckers and ripped out a load bearing wall to make the living room open plan.  Why even buy an old house like that if you just want to make it look like a soulless, modern box?  Anway, we found out later they filmed the entire rescue when we turned up to dig them out.  Department decided it would be good publicity. Fuck my life.”

Looks up to see Evan grinning at him.  “What?”

Evan shakes his head.  “Nothing.”

Squints at him.  “You don’t agree with me?”

Evan laughs.  “Of course I do.  I’m a firefighter, and I used to work construction.  Just, you’re cute when you rant.”

It totally derails Tommy's train of thought.  Manages, “I'm not cute, Evan."  Evan just grins.  “I’m not.  Your niece is cute.  I’m 43 and 6’2”.”  He flexes slightly to make his point,and smirks to himself when Evan’s eyes flicker over his arms before quickly refocusing on his face.  “I am not cute.”

“Jee is cute,” Evan agrees.  “So are you when you get on a roll.  Most people don’t even know you have buttons to push.”  Props his chin on his hands.  “Why do you think I steal your spumoni?”

He’s saved from having to come up with an answer to that by their food arriving.  This feels like flirting.  Except they’re friends, or trying to be.  Friends tease each other.  Apparently.  He can roll with this.

open tag for anyone who wants to play

[biteyoubiteme]

this is just me being a girl and giggling over how much i love this fic lol

A tingling about your person, some sort of whispering premonition, whisps and tugs just around your form. You straighten up at another thick step crunching in the snow from behind you. This time, you can’t explain it away.   Your writing feels so fairy tale i love it sm omfg it helps the story sm like the vibes are there and they are so good- 

Standing there, looking at you, he doesn’t look caught or frozen. But you are. Wholly still, all of you like a sculpture of frost, you gawk right at him. You’d never interacted with the prince, the black swan. Never even seen him. It was never in the cards. Fear like ice curls clawed fingers over your heart and grasps it.  AAAAAHHHHH i love your writing style its so lyrical and magical and also how even in little moments youre showing how the characters foil each other with nothing but him being so calm and her being so shocked. 

All your life, grand warnings of terrible things of him and what might happen should the two of you ever touch fell from the mouths of those around you. It was the constitution of who the two of you are—born to be the balance to each other, never to touch. Just an incidental brushing of fingers meant turning the world’s balance over on its head. They told you that the world would begin to fray at the seams, reality would warp, and that it’d be all your fault. And they also told you plenty about who the prince was as a person, too. Not only do you fear him for the curse of your nature, but also for all the nasty things you’ve heard of him. This, meeting him, was a thing of your deepest-cutting nightmares. Wait i was not expecting this and i love it omfg- 

He’d almost touched you. That close—you’d come that close to tragedy in only the first moments of your meeting. Your heart pumps out sizzling, frantic energy that has you looking at him wide-eyed and shaken. “I think you and I both are the most aware why it’s best that I leave,” you tell him, keeping it curt. You hold your arms to you.  EEEEEEEKKKKK >< IM ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT HOW HE JUST ALMOST DOES IT WITHOUT THINKING LIKE AND PULLING BACK- kinda reminds me of the hand scene in Pride and Prejudice 2005, you know, except like he doesn't touch her i dont know how to explain myself- 

He laughs, delighted. “Is that snark?” Pursing your lips as though confused, you spin spiced threads of patronization into your voice. “Not snark,” you say. “Just an observation.”  “Hmm.” Beomgyu slides his hands into his pockets to warm his hands. “Might I make an observation about you, princess?” oh i love him- i love him sm- like a bit playful mixed with curious like no i love him- 

“You don’t know me,” you say. Against your better judgement, though, your lips twitch into a soft smile. The kind of smile that is insistent, no matter how you refuse it. “So, I believe your wonderings to be entirely groundless.” Hair blowing gently in the wisps of a winter wind and his nose and cheeks gone pink, he says, “Oh, princess. Hardly. I think we know a great deal about each other.” UGH ‘I THINK WE KNOW A GREAT DEAL ABOUT EACH OTHER’ NO NO NO I LOVE HIM I DONT KNOW WHY THIS DIALOGUE IS TAKING ME OUT BUT IT IS- 

Beomgyu begins working on taking off his jacket, a white and pretty thing with thick, winter fabric. He offers it to you. “You don’t have to lie to me about it. Maybe them, but not me.” You look between him and his offering hand—his perfect features that are so elegant, and yet, there’s a wildness to him in those hard black eyes. If you didn’t already know so much about him, you might still be able to see the untamed in him. Who couldn’t? He wears it plainly; without remorse. You’re not sure how to interact with it, but, in a way, you envy him. “BUT NOT ME,” no you dont get how i love this sm like them just knowing in their hearts that they are the same but like not the same if that makes sense like i dont know how to make it make sense but like i love it i just love the way that it is- 

Each incarnation of the white swan, and you’re sure every black swan too. The people of this world paint you as embodiments of balance and life, but use you more like power plays. Even your own parents. You were born from your mother all the same as all your siblings, but as much as it aches to admit it, you are not their child. In the back of your throat, hurt and bare anger wells up thick. Im so in love with this- 

“Why?” you say, teeth chattering a bit under the cold’s caress. “You have a girl in mind?” That sounds nice. Being so hopefully devoted to someone, and them to you, that you might war against destiny for it. The thought only nurses hurt somewhere deep in your chest, though. Not for you. Never for you. You could be the prettiest on this Earth, the kindest, the most disciplined, or the least even. Still, that would never be yours. You know that, so why does it taste so bitter?  A quick look, something new, passes over him. In his eyes, you see it. He looks at you for a long minute, the morning so quiet that nothing but tranquility hangs in the air for a moment, and then finally says, “Yeah. Something like that.”  i dont know if you have ever read the night circus but i think you would like it (some find it a bit slow but eh i loved it) but in that book its kinda like this that the two main love interests are made for each other but told they can never be together but you kinda are ‘together’ because you are linked together if that make sense- like this basically and in a way its so romantic bc they are meant to be together i dont know how explain it lol but THE VIBES ARE THERE OKAY- 

Why you’d come to imagine him brutish, you’re not sure; he’s as much swan as you. Different and mirrored all the same. “I used to come here all the time,” he says. “Here? To the lake?” You perk up. This had been your hideaway as a girl; where you’d come at times like this when you needed to bury something away. You thought it’d been just yours. “I wonder how we never ran into each other. I used to do the same. I guess, I still do.” When his eyes fall back on you, they’re softer. More deep brown than black, but maybe it’s because you’re closer now. He says, “Well, I came here once or twice on my own, maybe when I was five. I didn’t really start coming back until I saw you. You were crying, all snotty, and throwing bread out for some ducks.” stop it stop it stop it stop it- ‘hes as much swan as you’ ILL SOB 

“But, thank you. Really.” He knows what you really mean, though. A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Alright,” he says. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that, would we?” As he begins to turn, making for wherever he’d come here from, you call out to him. “Hey, wait. Your jacket.” You pull it off your shoulders and joust it out at him. Against your skin which it had warmed, the air is bitterly cold. “Keep it, princess,” he says, giving you a parting nod. “Get home warm.” ‘feathers’ girl ily- and him just knowing that shes being nice and doesnt say anything about it uuuuuugggh like they know and it hurts i love them- 

Beomgyu had reached out to grab you, and only stopped himself short the same way he had the first time you met him. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he brings his hand down, curling the fingers as if to wash away the urge to reach out. AGAIN PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 2005 CORE 

Only a few days ago, you’d still believed that Beomgyu was other; that he was your total opposite, and that you should fear his darkness for all your lightness. All it’s taken is being around him the once or twice that you’ve been able to for you to realize the falsity that drips from that. When you’re around him, your soul, feathery and wispy in your chest and your veins and all the rest of you that constitutes you beyond what is physical, tugs. It’s impossible to ignore—it consumes you. Where your soul longs for him around the edges, like torn and searching for what’s been lost, you feel stuff that is beyond yourself. Rather than your opposite, you think that Beomgyu is your other half. You think that they’ve gotten it all wrong. ‘RATHER THAN YOUR OPPOSITE, YOU THINK THAT BEOMGYU IS YOUR OTHER HALF’ GET OUT GET OUT PLS IM CALWING AT MY SKIN LIKE A WOLF ON A FULL MOON RN ITS NOT FUNNY HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS- 

He smiles ruefully. “I saw something—had a dream when I was young. I saw us, in every last lifetime. We have lived again and again, as we are, in so many different ways. But the one thing that was always there was that they couldn’t keep us away from each other.” sobbing 

“Do they all love?” That soft smile still playing on his lips, his cheek to his knee as he looks at you with the veneration of somebody who might’ve loved you in a thousand lifetimes before, and perhaps in this one, too. “No. Some of us were secret lovers, but so many of those lived how you do for the entirety of their life. Halved,” he says. “And never did any of them touch.” HALVED GET OUT OF HERE PLS I CANT TAKE IT 

The first touch of the white swan and the black swan happens in a gentle cupping of your cheek. And, the world does fall down around you. The walls melt, air leaves, and the seams of everything that’s even been good or true are ripped out and sewn with something new and beautiful. It’s as explosive and cosmic as you imagined it, but it is not terrifying. It’s lovely. Your breaths shudder, your lungs trembling as you look into his eyes and realize what this means.“Fuck,” is all Beomgyu breathes. It looks as though that it’s all he can manage. His touch grows more solid as the both of you realize that the both of you are still very much here, and so is the world. Thumb pad grazing over the softness of your cheek, his throat bobs with a swallow. You think that if you were to press your hand over his chest, you might feel it thudding there to the same thunderous rhythm that yours beats to. So, you do. Because you can touch him. His heart sings beneath your palm, even through fabric and flesh. You can’t help the wobbling of your lip and the hot tears that spill out past your eyes and roll down your cheeks. NO NO NO NO I LOEV THIS SO FUCKING MUCH ASH IM ABOUT TO WINE DINE AND 69 YOU NOT EVEN FUNNY RN 

It hadn’t worked. As he kisses you for all the lifetimes in which you couldn’t, you know that he couldn’t have accepted that and moved on. Of all the black swans that have lived and passed, Beomgyu must be the most stubborn and strong-willed. That’s why, out of every single life, this is the first that you touch. He would take the world on, or play with the existence of it, for this. Just for you. All for you—you’d found somebody who will do something just for you. Curling your fingers into the front of his tunic just over his chest, you pour the fire of that revelation into your kiss. I love them im so fucking sick 

“It’s okay, princess. Hold on to me, you can take it, right? You cunt was built for me. Everything about you was made for me. Your heart, your pretty hands for me to hold, your sex, all of it. Do you feel how I fit right into you? How I was made to?” OH! Yeah okay im not normal about this at all actually this shit hits 

ℳ𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝓉 𝒮𝑤𝑎𝑛 ℒ𝑎𝑘𝑒. Sobbing 

His lip curls as though the thought were detestable. “What the fuck is a dowry to this? To the approval of the fates? The world could try snuff that fact out with whatever they’ll try, and a man could offer your parents a dowry of all its money, and still, you’d be mine. No matter what, our souls belong to each other.” His hand is frozen against your cheek. He’s been out here waiting for you for so long. “I’d take you, promised to another man. I’d take you no matter how you are; in a thousand different lives, I’d have you each time.” you dont get how i love soulmate tropes so bad like it just is the moment like no one gets it like me- 

Together, your half sings. His answers with a thrilling beat. FUCK I LOVE THIS- 

𝓐T 𝓢WA𝓝 𝓛AKE ﹐､﹒ c.bg ˏˋ੭ꠥ ¸ˎ

as both equals and opposites, white swan and black swan, it is paramount that you and choi beomgyu do not touch. the curse of your natures did not even make exception for incidental brushes. that was never an issue for you—not until the day the prince took it upon himself to break every rule you’d ever known. ⋆˛ ˛

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

⸉⋆ ᧔ 🦢᧓ ･ 10.3k

𝒫airings ˒ black swan prince!beomgyu 𝓍 white swan princess!reader

𝒢 ‎⍪ smut ˒ fantasy ˒ forbidden romance

𝒲arnings ˒ smut, angst and longing, unprotected sex, lots of teasing, jealousy…, yearning and yearning, he cums on her, theyre both desperate, pathetically in love!beomgyu, shes all he wants, virgin!reader, loss of innocence, he talks her through it, he gets a little whiny… hmm i can’t remember if i’m missing anything. this is not proofread!! i’m gonna nap first.

✎୭ ashlynn's note @hmusunoo … baby you did your big one with this. i can not explain to you how excited i’ve been for this one. this is absolutely my favorite. it’s just so me, u know me so well and i think we should kiss. THANK U!

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

Around you, mist and delicate flurries sit over white, fluffy blankets. Where it sits over the lake, it turns the horizon of the lake’s expanse into an obscured uncertainty. If you hadn’t spent so much time right here, you might think that it goes on forever. 

It’s a beautiful, clear winter’s morning. Sparkling air wraps you in sweet and crisp tendrils, every breath to your lungs almost bitingly fresh. But in all its lightness, your chest only feels heavier. You had hoped that coming here would be a little, momentary respite. The air is so free around you, though, the weight doesn’t float away with it—it just leaves nothing but the feeling for you to contend with. No skittish wildlife rustle the foliage, and a thin film holds the crystalline lake from lapping at the bank. It seems that not even the wind moves. Just you.  

It’s not your tears that you hide here. Sadness is a soft, gentle thing; an acceptable thing for a Lady like yourself to indulge in. It’s what the people expect of their princess. The demure and always prim White Swan. Always correct, always just how you should be. 

Your tears are more like scalding, molten licks of fire than the slow, darling tears that are expected of you, though. They’re angry. It clashes up against the walls you’ve built up within yourself, against the role you’ve assumed. 

That’s why you’ve come here. Coarser emotions are unbecoming of you, and it’d be a shame to feel them in front of others. It’s a shame that you’re letting yourself feel it now, even. You summon a thin sigh, funneling up all the tangy bitterness on your tongue to let it fall out into the air before you. 

It doesn’t do much for you, really. This—feeling like this, so beyond the reach of your usual ways to shove down ugliness—is unfamiliar. Your entire life has been this, why do you struggle with it now? In the center of you, mingling with that anger, it’s as though a blackness blooms. Like a wretched flowering of some invasive plume, or perhaps the floating of inky black feathers through your bloodstream, you feel painted dark and unpleasant. 

Holding the dappled fur of your shawl closer, you decide to watch chunks of crystal white ice float on the water’s surface. Or maybe the on-and-off snowflakes that float down around you. Even tracing the lengths of barren branches, lined with white fluff so still and serene, with your eyes. Anything but delving into what that tainted tug inside is, or what it might mean about you.  

Snow crunches, or maybe a branch shifting, beckons your attention. But the foliage isn’t too thick, and trees are sparse around the lake, and there is always some small winged creature fluttering between branches out here. So, you brush it off. 

A tingling about your person, some sort of whispering premonition, whisps and tugs just around your form. You straighten up at another thick step crunching in the snow from behind you. This time, you can’t explain it away.  

A figure greets you. Dark, raven strands of silken hair fallen over eyes of the same, his skin so stark against it, black shoulder cloak on his shoulder flowing like velvet water against his billowing sleeves all ruffled and enamoring. He glitters like the frost, twinkling silver threads and black crystals sewn in to catch the light and make a show of him. Standing there, looking at you, he doesn’t look caught or frozen. 

But you are. Wholly still, all of you like a sculpture of frost, you gawk right at him. You’d never interacted with the prince, the black swan. Never even seen him. It was never in the cards. Fear like ice curls clawed fingers over your heart and grasps it.  

All your life, grand warnings of terrible things of him and what might happen should the two of you ever touch fell from the mouths of those around you. It was the constitution of who the two of you are—born to be the balance to each other, never to touch. Just an incidental brushing of fingers meant turning the world’s balance over on its head. They told you that the world would begin to fray at the seams, reality would warp, and that it’d be all your fault. And they also told you plenty about who the prince was as a person, too. Not only do you fear him for the curse of your nature, but also for all the nasty things you’ve heard of him. This, meeting him, was a thing of your deepest-cutting nightmares. 

And, there, he stands in front of you. 

“What are you doing out here crying?” Beomgyu says, curious eyes darting over your face. Under his gaze, you’re not sure how to feel. But you feel every last bit of it, regardless. 

You wipe at your cheek, where he must’ve seen the wet streaks glistening in the light. Summoning some poise up from where you keep it in handy, you say, “It’s no matter. I was just looking out on the snow.” You fix up your hair and your dress.  

The prince frowns, studying your face once again. Utterly unconvinced by what he finds there, he gestures toward you. “You’ve been crying, princess,” he says. “I didn’t think that lying was in the cards for you.” 

Lying? Not in the cards for you? Lying is all you do. You lie to yourself and to others more than you are honest. “Maybe, but I’m well,” you say, and then you lift the soft skirts of your dress to step without treading it in the snow. “Really, I ought to get home before the snowfall gets heavier. It was lovely seeing you.” You try and make sure to keep a good and proper distance from him as you make for where you arrived here from. 

Beomgyu reaches out for you, only pulling back from grabbing your arm at a frighteningly slim realization. “Wait,” he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he realizes what he’d almost just done. “You don’t have to leave. Why is it that you cry?” 

He’d almost touched you. That close—you’d come that close to tragedy in only the first moments of your meeting. Your heart pumps out sizzling, frantic energy that has you looking at him wide-eyed and shaken. “I think you and I both are the most aware why it’s best that I leave,” you tell him, keeping it curt. You hold your arms to you.  

Strong brows knitting, he shakes his head and takes some big steps back. The snow, sat powdery and calf-high on the ground, creaks beneath them. “I’ll stay back here,” he says. “Just don’t go. Won’t you entertain me? It’s a gentleman’s duty to help a weeping Lady.” 

You falter. The words might have you blushing and offering him a modest thank you, but the way he says it—it’s rather taunting. It’s taunting in a way that gets right up under your skin and ruffles your feathers. “And why does it bother you so?” you ask him, arching a dainty brow. You’re not even sure why he’s come out here in the first place. This is the one place that you ordain your own. It seems that not even here can you be totally alone. “They’ll have a fit if they know I was here with you.” 

The prince, with his clear, ethereal features cracking into a wicked amusement that you’re not sure how to digest, says, “Perhaps they will.” He tilts his head at you, wispy strands of hair moving over his shadowed eyes with it. “But, princess, that’s the fun in it. That they will admonish you for it. Is that why you’re crying?” 

Fun? Nothing about what your people, your parents, might do should they find that you’d not only been near but spoken to the black swan, is fun. You level him wary eyes. And, though sense tugs at your feet and asks you to get going, you do not. You do not know why. 

“I think it is.” He’s got an obnoxious tilt to his lips. “I think that’s why you cry.” 

A scoff, an abrasive and distasteful sound coming from you, falls out from your mouth. There’s that awful imprudence and temerity that you’ve heard of the black swan—everything you ought not to be. “You seem the type to know everything,” you say. 

He laughs, delighted. “Is that snark?” 

Pursing your lips as though confused, you spin spiced threads of patronization into your voice. “Not snark,” you say. “Just an observation.” 

 “Hmm.” Beomgyu slides his hands into his pockets to warm his hands. “Might I make an observation about you, princess?” 

There’s interest written all over his face—you know he’s playing some sort of game. You also know that you shouldn’t indulge him in it. Still, you do. A slight raising of your brow, or maybe the interest twinkling in your eyes, too, tells him to go on. 

“I think that you are too dutiful for your own good,” he says.  

In a slight, testy step, he inches closer. Not so close that you worry, but the two of you are not even supposed to be in the same room. Anything is too close. You mirror it with a step back. “You don’t know me,” you say. Against your better judgement, though, your lips twitch into a soft smile. The kind of smile that is insistent, no matter how you refuse it. “So, I believe your wonderings to be entirely groundless.” 

Hair blowing gently in the wisps of a winter wind and his nose and cheeks gone pink, he says, “Oh, princess. Hardly. I think we know a great deal about each other.” 

Well, that’s true enough. All your life you heard of him and your curse. You’re sure it was no different for him, no matter your differences. “And what do you know about me?” you ask.  

Beomgyu’s laugh falls out in a white puff of curling frost. “I know it’s been arranged that you’ll marry a superior Lord,” he says. He observes you. “Am I right?” 

So fast, just with that, lightness falls from your face. You hadn’t wanted to be reminded. Your feet itch to be off, so that you can feel it elsewhere. Not here; not in front of him. Leveling yourself so that your voice doesn’t come out as stilted as you feel, you say, “Yeah. You are.” 

With his eyes narrowing on you, he says, “You know, it’s weird. I’ve never seen a girl excited to be wedded look like that when it’s brought up.” 

You reign in your face and shake your head. “I am perfectly excited. It’s a blessing to be married into such a family.” As much as you smooth over the furrowing of your brows, or make your expression pleasant, it’s not so easy to tame the picking of your fingers. 

Anything other than excited, you might be. But absolutely not that. In fact, you are beyond yourself with anger, and you have nowhere to go with it. It bubbles hot just under your skin and demands a release that you cannot give. 

Being who you are, it’s been a truth you’ve known your whole life. Someday, you were going to be offered like a shiny, silver pawn to the highest bidder. And you, as the world’s white swan, are quite the enticing thing to own. You thought you’d banished the hope for a union of love right where you’d left the sense of self behind: years ago. The time’s come now, but you aren’t as at peace with it as you should be. No matter how hard you try, you are more human than you’d like to be, and far too human to be what the world expects you to be. 

If you’re going to be frank with yourself: you do not want to marry him. Living as something bought, expected to live forever as this mellowed out, poised version of yourself by the side of some man who you don’t even know or love... Of any fate you might be made to live, you think that this one is the worst. 

Beomgyu begins working on taking off his jacket, a white and pretty thing with thick, winter fabric. He offers it to you. “You don’t have to lie to me about it. Maybe them, but not me.” 

You look between him and his offering hand—his perfect features that are so elegant, and yet, there’s a wildness to him in those hard black eyes. If you didn’t already know so much about him, you might still be able to see the untamed in him. Who couldn’t? He wears it plainly; without remorse. You’re not sure how to interact with it, but, in a way, you envy him. 

Reaching out, you accept the jacket from his hand. Tentatively, with great care so as to avoid touch, but you do.  

It’s nice and soft against your frost-kissed shoulders. But it’s not enough to fix the bite against the skin on your face, so you trudge through the snow over to the sparse tree line, where the trunks might protect you better from it than the flat expanse of the lake’s surface. You press your back to a tree, and he mirrors it on the tree opposite to you. Looking over the great lake, so very serene. It twinkles with an ice film like sugar crystals atop its surface. “I guess I’m just... scared,” you say. The words come out soft and uncertain. 

He nods. Listening. So, you continue. “I don’t even know him. I haven’t spoken to my betrothed once. Maybe I’ll get to know him, and maybe he won’t be bad, but...” 

“But he’s not who you want,” Beomgyu says. “Not who you love.” 

Licking your winter-chapped lips, you eye him for a moment. You nod slowly and say, “...Yeah. I suppose it’s selfish, but...” 

Ignited, Beomgyu pushes off the tree to say, “Selfish? You give your whole life to being their saint. Maybe they think they do, but they don’t own you.” 

You, not us. Frowning, you ask him, “Are you not set for some marriage of convenience?” Marrying is different as a woman, but you don’t doubt that the prince’s family intends to strengthen alliances by offering his marriage up to some optimistic, lesser family with a daughter to bargain the way yours has done with you. Every last girl and boy born as you two have been—destined to a life bigger than yourself, a force in the world as much as you are a person—have lived just the same. All of them. Each incarnation of the white swan, and you’re sure every black swan too. The people of this world paint you as embodiments of balance and life, but use you more like power plays. Even your own parents. You were born from your mother all the same as all your siblings, but as much as it aches to admit it, you are not their child. In the back of your throat, hurt and bare anger wells up thick. 

He half laughs, half scoffs. “They could try. It doesn’t matter to me. They’d have to kill me before I do their bidding. Is it our fault that we were born this?” he says. “I’m going to live my life how I want, no matter what.” 

You tuck your hands into your sides, where they warm between the jacket and your body heat. His words and how he looks at your lives, it’s everything you’re not. Sense of self and determination to live for more than just your predetermined role—while you’d surrendered it all, he lives thrashing and fighting against it. A product of your mirrored and opposite natures.  

“Why?” you say, teeth chattering a bit under the cold’s caress. “You have a girl in mind?” 

That sounds nice. Being so hopefully devoted to someone, and them to you, that you might war against destiny for it. The thought only nurses hurt somewhere deep in your chest, though. Not for you. Never for you. You could be the prettiest on this Earth, the kindest, the most disciplined, or the least even. Still, that would never be yours. You know that, so why does it taste so bitter?  

A quick look, something new, passes over him. In his eyes, you see it. He looks at you for a long minute, the morning so quiet that nothing but tranquility hangs in the air for a moment, and then finally says, “Yeah. Something like that.”  

Entirely intrigued, you ask, “Who? Is she a Lady?” 

Beomgyu nods his head, that strange look lingering. “Of sorts,” he answers, crossing his arms over his chest to lean back into the bark. “And your betrothed? Some well-off Lord?” 

A smile ghosts over your mouth. “Probably. I haven’t a clue who it is; but I’m sure he’s got enough coin to spare, if my parents settled on him.” 

The lines of his face gone playful, he says, “Not possibly more well-off than me.” 

Your nose crinkles. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say. A husband with money is nice. You can’t pretend that you don’t think of that, especially that none of your family’s wealth belongs to you, nor will it follow you into your marriage. Your heart revolts regardless.  

Shrugging after a few beats of silent considering, he turns his attention on the lake. His face turned like that, you admire the straight slope of his nose and his eyelashes as they flutter with his heavy eyes. Like the rest of him, his side profile is a contradiction. Strong and noble, but elegant like hewn from marble. It’s perfect. With all the talk in your ears, you’d pictured something far off from the youthful, wry man stood before you. Why you’d come to imagine him brutish, you’re not sure; he’s as much swan as you. Different and mirrored all the same. 

“I used to come here all the time,” he says. 

“Here? To the lake?” You perk up. This had been your hideaway as a girl; where you’d come at times like this when you needed to bury something away. You thought it’d been just yours. “I wonder how we never ran into each other. I used to do the same. I guess, I still do.” 

When his eyes fall back on you, they’re softer. More deep brown than black, but maybe it’s because you’re closer now. He says, “Well, I came here once or twice on my own, maybe when I was five. I didn’t really start coming back until I saw you. You were crying, all snotty, and throwing bread out for some ducks.” 

Your face twists up, maybe at the memory or maybe with confusion. It seems like if he’d really come here so often, and had even seen you here, you’d have noticed. “You must have thought I was weird,” you say, the words coming out around a shiver.  

“Maybe,” he says through a wry smile that’s cracked over his lips. “But mostly, I just wished I could talk to you.” 

He’d watched you, because he couldn’t approach you? You were under the impression that the prince had never cared for the rules, not even one so paramount as that. But, it seems that his brashness came to him later. He stands in front of you now, doesn’t he? Maybe it was just that innocent trust that, as children, you levy out to those arounds you. Especially toward adults; and all of those had preached over moments like this. You imagine a young, curious Beomgyu, hiding himself away between bushes, itching to approach or play with you. But he never did; you hadn’t the slightest clue he’d even been there until now. Could you two have been friends, if not for the curse? 

“You never came out,” you say. “Or introduced yourself?” It’s all you can really think. 

His mouth twitches. “Would you have stayed?” 

No. Then, you don’t think you would’ve. Even now, you’re stricken with the innate fear of touching him, no matter how surprised you are at how different he is. Different from what they said he’d be. You think you would’ve darted, should you have known who he was. For some reason, that makes your heart ache. A dark ebbing wave of ache that you are unfamiliar with. 

A slight knowing smile danced over his features, eyes gone to sweet crescents that turn them, usually so dark, into something rounded. Not so abrasive. He tilts his head off to one side and says, “You’re freezing. How long have you been out here?” 

Cheeks long been numb, you answer, “An hour. Maybe and a half?” 

“I’ll walk you home.” 

You grimace. Arriving with him by your side, the man you quite literally were not supposed to even speak with, is the very last thing you should do. An awful idea. “I wouldn’t bother you. It’s probably not the best idea to show up after disappearing, with a man by my side. Especially not as a to-be-married woman,” you say. “But, thank you. Really.” 

He knows what you really mean, though. A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Alright,” he says. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that, would we?” 

As he begins to turn, making for wherever he’d come here from, you call out to him. “Hey, wait. Your jacket.” You pull it off your shoulders and joust it out at him. Against your skin which it had warmed, the air is bitterly cold. 

“Keep it, princess,” he says, giving you a parting nod. “Get home warm.” 

Today, you are to give your hand to a man that you do not know.

In the air, the rich nuttiness of fire-toasted chestnuts dance and mingle with the roar of chatter. Hundreds of familiar and unfamiliar faces line long tables with runners decorated by platters of plump, sugar-dusted plums and fruit pies. They’ve all come in their winter’s best—whites and reds and luxurious furs lining thick, velvety fabrics or embroidered with sparkling threads and studded with crystals that twinkle in the low firelight. It’s warm and lovely and all just for you. 

But, you don’t feel any of that. All you feel is a heavy belly. Each smile you tug over your mouth feels like dead weight. You’re familiar with this—putting on the act. Smiling in faces that you know will turn around and have something else to say about you, pretending like you don’t know that it’s all false sweetness. You’d been trained in noble propriety since you could walk and talk. 

But, considering that they’ve all come here to shower you with gifts and lovely words for a marriage in which they could really not care about beyond how they make it a profit, it’s all a bit more sour. 

You’ve met your promised. The man you’re supposed to wed and spend the entirety of your life beside. You spoke with him for... what, two minutes? Two very awkward, very awful minutes. What should you have to say to each other? You’re meeting for the first time today. At your engagement feast. It’s a real conscious effort to not take your lip into your mouth and gnaw, or to not fuss over your hair, or honestly anything that might show these people that you are anything but pleased. 

So, you relent to their gaudy pleasantries. You listen to them tell you that it’s such a blessing to be married to a man of high society—and a wealthy one, too. They tell you that they knew your marriage would bring a great dowry; that all the white swans have. That they were watching and expecting it. All you hear is the dripping of greed; all you see is hungry eyes and fingers crossed behind backs. 

You relent to it until your stomach is sick and wrought with it. And then, the older lady ahead of you singing praises of your beauty, of how she wishes her daughter might catch the eye of a husband as advantageous as yours, does something out of the ordinary. Her eyes drift behind you, her snooty, pinched features twisting up into something new. You follow her gaze. 

Dark and beautiful and his eyes trained right on you, the black swan prince stands beside you. He’s lazed, a heavy cup of some thick, spiced and wintery drink in one hand, as he does. In the clear light of morning, he’d looked so out of place. But here, soft and hard planes of his face illustrated by the flickering orange firelight, he looks so right. 

You blink. And then blink again. Never once had Beomgyu made any sort of appearance at any hosted thing by your family. You just stand in place for a moment, registering his presence.

“You look lovely, princess,” he says. His eyes fall up and down you. The way he says it—it’s liquid smooth, but it’s taunting in a way. “The perfect image of a bride-to-be.”

He can’t be here. He can’t be here at all. When you look to the side, the woman is already gone. You have no doubt in your mind that she’s whispering in somebody’s ear right now.

“Prince,” you say, gritting your teeth while also dipping into an elegant curtsy. 

“Do you feel that way?” He raises his eyebrows at you, his gaze heavy with underlying tension. “A perfect bride? Happy?”

Making the conscious decision to not look around you, because you can already feel the burning interest of the eyes that you’ll find on you, you say, “I do. Isn’t this quite the feast?”

“I told you that you don’t have to lie to me, princess.”

You shouldn’t even be standing here talking to him. They’re all watching. Stepping back to cut conversation with something witty, you stop in the onslaught of a chorus of surrounding gasps.

Beomgyu had reached out to grab you, and only stopped himself short the same way he had the first time you met him. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he brings his hand down, curling the fingers as if to wash away the urge to reach out.

He’s closer now, too. His breath smells sickly sweet with the liqueur he drinks. A sarcastic grin over his lips, he says, “Did he pay for all this?”

You do a dance of give and take. You step back, and he meets it with a step toward you, all the way until you find yourselves in a quieter corner. “He did sponsor the feast, yes.”

“Well, isn’t that just great,” he says, voice carrying over the many layered sounds of the gathering. “And that makes you happy? You feel fulfilled by that? Is that the purpose of the lovely white swan?”

You’re not sure what he’s getting at, or why your marriage is any of his business. For some reason, though, despite those rational thoughts, some faraway memory whispers that it makes every bit of sense. “He is a lovely man.”

Barking a laugh, Beomgyu says, “Don’t make me laugh. You don’t believe that, no matter how many times you tell it to yourself.”

You curl your fingers into the obnoxious, glittering material of your dress. “Seriously, what makes you so sure?” you say. “What makes you so sure you know? This is good for me. This is the way things are supposed to go. Not everybody in this world can get away with serving only themselves and doing whatever they want. Maybe it works for you, but not for the rest of us. I’m glad your life is fun, though. Really.” 

His face doesn’t sharpen into offence, though you brace for him to. You’ve never spoken to anybody like that. Ever. Shaking his head, raven locks glowing warm around the edges, he says, “Because I know. I know. Are you listening to me? You don’t have to lie to me.”

Balking at him, you don’t know how to answer. That was nowhere near the answer you were expecting from the prince, known and notorious for his chaos and fire.

“I am listening,” you say, keeping your voice measured. Thick emotion slips through the seams. “Honesty has never done me any good. This is going to happen; all honesty is going to do is hurt me. So, I’m sorry.”

His mouth opens to fire something back, but you don’t hear it. Somebody digs their fingers into your upper arm, dragging you without a word away from your conversation. You stumble, letting them take you without a fuss. This was to be expected. You shouldn’t look back. If today was already going to be the last day you ever see him, it certainly is now that you’ve been caught not only in touching distance to him, but making conversation with him.

Tossing a self-betraying glace over your shoulder, you find his figure. Hand in pocket and his lips turned down, he watches you go.

You wish you wouldn’t have. You have no explanation for the emptiness it casts into your chest.

Recently, you’ve been crying so much. You might believe that it’s because you’ve been letting yourself feel freely, but you don’t feel free.

Your palms are soaked against your cheeks, face fallen into them as you shudder with it. Their words pin and scrape in your head, forcing you to contend with them before bouncing off the walls and you hear them again and again until your stomach has gone sick. Your parents had given you an earful. That’s been your whole life; you can handle that. The moment you saw him there, intending to speak to you, you’d prepared for it. Instead, it was their contempt and sneering faces that bleed your heart like this. 

In this life, you are alone. Totally, wholly alone. Who you are—your role in life—is not the blessing they claim it to be. Is it selfish to ask to be understood? For somebody to just understand, without your pleading or begging?

Maybe. It feels that way, anyway.

“Why is it that I always find you crying?”

His voice freezes you to where you sit sprawled on your floor. Spinning to him, you say, “What are you doing?”

Beomgyu shrugs, as though he hasn’t snuck his way into your room. “I felt bad for getting you dragged off. Wanted to come see how you’re doing.”

Maybe his insisting on being around you should be annoying, but right now… You think you appreciate the company, even from the forbidden likes of him. “You can’t be here,” you hiss. “How did you get in? They’ll… if they find you here…”

His boots squeak against the polished flooring as he approaches you, and then settles down on the floor with you. The fire flickering behind him, his back to it, casts an orange light around the edges of his figure. He looks terribly inviting, like this: strewn on the floor, no holier or better than you, his face not sickly sweet nor cold and devoid of love, and his eyes curious to know how you feel. 

“I don’t care what they’ll do to me. I want to see you.” He tugs his jacket off, letting it fall on the dirty floor. Improper for a prince, but Beomgyu doesn’t care. That’s who he’s always been—that’s the one thing that was entirely true out of all the things you heard about him. “Who the hell cares about their approval? We don’t need it.”

You know what he means by they and we. Only a few days ago, you’d still believed that Beomgyu was other; that he was your total opposite, and that you should fear his darkness for all your lightness. All it’s taken is being around him the once or twice that you’ve been able to for you to realize the falsity that drips from that. When you’re around him, your soul, feathery and wispy in your chest and your veins and all the rest of you that constitutes you beyond what is physical, tugs. It’s impossible to ignore—it consumes you. Where your soul longs for him around the edges, like torn and searching for what’s been lost, you feel stuff that is beyond yourself.

Rather than your opposite, you think that Beomgyu is your other half. You think that they’ve gotten it all wrong. 

“How do you do it?” you say, back up against a white, whorling table leg. “How do you not care? I don’t understand.”

Inky eyes shining, he says, “I did. When I was young, I believed everything they told me. It’s hard not to, when it’s all you hear. Them, telling us that our purpose is to surrender ourselves to be something Saint-like. But when you catch one lie, you begin to catch the others, too. I saw their excuses and reasonings peel. Princess, it’s all lies. Everything you know is lies.” He says it with such conviction. Each and every word reaches down into that part of yourself that is missing something. “We’re not their Saints. That’s never been our purpose. I hate that shit; I hate that they’ve made you think that this is all you’re for. Marrying him? Never doing anything, because you’re scared of what it’ll mean for you? It’s not fucking fair.” He pushes himself closer to you. Now, your criss crossed knees are so close that a stray move might mean the world’s end. This time, you don’t panic. There’s no room for that among the swarm of your other thoughts. “So, of course I don’t give a shit about what they tell me to do. I’m going to live this life the way that it’s supposed to be. I wish that you could join me.”

“This life?” you blurt. It’s the one thought that appears clear to you, so it’s what comes out. Frowning, you add, “What lies?”

Deadpanned and as though he’s not delivering something that changes the world’s fabric around you, Beomgyu says, “There is no curse. There’s never been a curse.”

Your room is silent for a few moments, and then you shake your head and laugh. “How would you know that?” you say, nose wrinkling. If you don’t laugh, you’ll begin to actually consider the possibility of that. Just the very surface of the notion makes you nauseous. You couldn’t handle exploring the thought deeper. 

Beomgyu doesn’t laugh along with you. “The curse is a lie, and everything that comes with it. All of it is just excuses or justification for the hate for the other people. The whole reason that they ever decided on it was because of their hate. Maybe to the people alive now, it’s not a lie. But that’s what it started as.” His face, dark and soft as he reads your face, twists up. “Of course, we can touch. We are two halves of a whole. There is you in me, and I in you. Do you not feel it? The tug? That’s it. The black swan and the white swan were never meant to be apart and opposite. We are meant to be together. We’re meant to be the only ones that understand each other. It’s us against the world, princess.”

Your ears ring with the pierce of each word cascading out from his mouth. “Beomgyu, I don’t understand. That doesn’t… Make sense. How?” He can’t just make claims about that. Not something like this. It’s not fair.

“I know it’s hard to believe, princess. It’s all you’re ever made to believe. But you have to trust me. Do you trust me?”

Tongue darting out to wet your lips and your fingers stilling where you fuss at the fabric of your chemise, you take a good look at him. Roaming over his features, the contradiction in them and the strange familiarity that constitutes him no matter the fact that you’ve only just met, you consider it. Everything he says is absurd, and it does go against everything you’ve ever known. You should turn your nose up at him for even suggesting it; should suspect that he only has some sort of plan to coax you into bringing the world’s end.

But, you do. You trust him beyond explanation, as though intrinsically.

You nod slowly, holding his eyes in yours. “But I don’t understand,” you say. “How do you know?”

He smiles ruefully. “I saw something—had a dream when I was young. I saw us, in every last lifetime. We have lived again and again, as we are, in so many different ways. But the one thing that was always there was that they couldn’t keep us away from each other.”

The world does a few spins around you. Lightheaded, you try to stay up under the oppressive gravity of that. You want to stick your head in the ground and shake your head and yell no, but that deep tugging that has plagued you beginning the moment you’d met him, and all the emptiness before it, tells you yes. 

How poetic is that? How tragic? You, two souls born to be one, made to live apart at the interests of the world around you. Made to do it across every lifetime, and yet, in each you meet. In each, the twinkling thread of fate prevails nevertheless. 

“Do they all love?”

That soft smile still playing on his lips, his cheek to his knee as he looks at you with the veneration of somebody who might’ve loved you in a thousand lifetimes before, and perhaps in this one, too. “No. Some of us were secret lovers, but so many of those lived how you do for the entirety of their life. Halved,” he says. “And never did any of them touch.”

Heart fluttering with wings in your chest, you say, “So, how do you know that the curse is a lie? If it’s never been done before?”

“Let me show you,” he says. “That I can touch you.”

All the blood in your body pulls back. You trust him; you do. But is trust enough to risk a touch that could be the end of the world? Is trust enough to be so selfish to do so? 

Seeing you blanch, Beomgyu’s eyes go glassy. “Please,” he says, voice breaking as if to touch you might mean more than just proving something to you. As if the weight of everything he’s ever wanted rests on the back of it working—that if this works, and the world does not fall apart around you, then he can love you how he does, and how he had so many times before. Inevitably. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Beomgyu,” you say, looking between his eyes and the twitch of his hand as it itches to touch you. “I don’t… I’m scared.” Your voice drops to nothing more than a whisper.

“It’s okay,” he says, bringing that longing hand up. Your heart jumps when he raises up by your face. “You can be selfish this once. I want to see you do something because you want to, not because it’s what you think others might want.”

Your throat burns and tightens. Every last sparkling bit of your being longs to lean into his touch—to do what you two have wanted to do so many times before, and finally bring your souls back together. “What if it happens?” you ask, your eyes soft and true like an animal turning its soft underbelly to receive affection.

“Then let it,” he says. “At least we would have touched. Just this once.”

Gritting your teeth and swallowing hard, your belly does itself up into knots. You don’t answer him, but your quiet speaks enough. His hand hovers beside your face with the weight of the world in it.

The first touch of the white swan and the black swan happens in a gentle cupping of your cheek. And, the world does fall down around you. The walls melt, air leaves, and the seams of everything that’s even been good or true are ripped out and sewn with something new and beautiful. It’s as explosive and cosmic as you imagined it, but it is not terrifying. It’s lovely.

Your breaths shudder, your lungs trembling as you look into his eyes and realize what this means.

“Fuck,” is all Beomgyu breathes. It looks as though that it’s all he can manage. His touch grows more solid as the both of you realize that the both of you are still very much here, and so is the world. Thumb pad grazing over the softness of your cheek, his throat bobs with a swallow. You think that if you were to press your hand over his chest, you might feel it thudding there to the same thunderous rhythm that yours beats to.

So, you do. Because you can touch him. His heart sings beneath your palm, even through fabric and flesh. You can’t help the wobbling of your lip and the hot tears that spill out past your eyes and roll down your cheeks.

The second touching is the bringing together of your lips. His mouth is soft and hard against yours, contradictory as the rest of him. He brings his other hand up to hold your face into his kiss. It’s not sweet and slow—it’s as ground-rumbling as the kiss between intertwined souls coming together after an eternity of being away. Each nip and lick and clash of teeth are like the claps of thunder of the storm that will end the world, his hand sliding up the back of your neck to card his fingers through the hair at the back of your head like the claws of a beast sent to ensure its end.

And, maybe Beomgyu is the beast that has come to end the world. You wonder how he’d waited so long to bring the truth to you, or if he was torn about ever telling you. What changed things, after so many years of him watching you from afar? Your engagement? Perhaps that’s what that drink in his hand had been: a thing to forget with.

It hadn’t worked. As he kisses you for all the lifetimes in which you couldn’t, you know that he couldn’t have accepted that and moved on. Of all the black swans that have lived and passed, Beomgyu must be the most stubborn and strong-willed. That’s why, out of every single life, this is the first that you touch. He would take the world on, or play with the existence of it, for this. Just for you. All for you—you’d found somebody who will do something just for you. Curling your fingers into the front of his tunic just over his chest, you pour the fire of that revelation into your kiss.

He roams his hands all over you, mapping your shape. You kiss and kiss, lips tugging and twisting against each other, and still it isn’t enough. Bracing a splayed palm over your lower back, he does not stop kissing you even as he lays you back onto the ground. The flooring is cold against your burning body. He supports his weight on one hand beside your head and straddles your hips to do nothing but run his fingers through your hair and just kiss you. 

Only when your lungs are too hungry to ignore does he free your mouth. His soft black hair dangles over his starry eyes as he looks down at you with them. Lips swollen and smeared with you, his chest heaves. Bringing his free hand up, he wipes your wet cheek.

“Oh my god,” you say, breathless. “Beomgyu.”

Pressing his forehead to yours, he laughs. “I like when you call me that. I think I want to make you scream it—scream it until they come breaking down your doors and see that we are each other's. Until your fiancé hears it.”

Body bursting at the seams at the prospect, you nod frantically and dip your face into his neck to dust starry kisses there, too. He shudders. “I want it so bad. Can you please?”

“Of course I can. I’m going to make love to you, okay?” He pushes off you, crawling back so that he’s sat squatted just before your knees as you pin them together. “Open your legs, princess. Show me how pretty you are—I’ve waited so long for it.” He pats on the outer side of your knee.

Thrill spiraling up from between your thighs like sparks, you oblige slowly. You let your legs fall open for him, and choke on your own heart as he begins to slowly work your dress up the expanse of your legs, and then your thighs, baring to him the plush and unseen skin there. He eats it up wildly, his eyes gone ravenous and even blacker.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say, voice trill and unsure. “I don’t know what to do.”

A wicked grin cracks over his features. “I know, princess.” The fabric bunches at your thighs, now. You tremble with the stifling anticipation. “I’m going to take care of you. It’s going to feel so good—I’m gonna make you feel so good. I have so many things I want to do to you. Lifetimes of things I want to make you feel.”

Doe-eyed and laying your trust in his hands, your thighs twitch and you nod. He reveals your cunt at last, finally catching the glistening sight of it for the very first time. And, he does not disappoint. The look that washes over his face—the twitching of his lips, the tightening of his jaw in a flickering muscle, and the fire razing your cunt in his eyes—is something so dreamlike, but lucid nonetheless.

“You just lay down and let me help you. Treat you how a princess should be treated.” He works on his pants, silver belt clinking and then loosening, and then he’s just as exposed as you when his length pops free. It’s hard already, tall and pretty like the rest of him, but pink and obscene at the tip. He leaks from the little slit at the top. “Look at you. You look like you want to taste it,” he says, laughing while collecting the liquid to pump himself a few times. “Next time, baby. I’d love to see the proper mouth of the world’s princess choking on my cock.”

The air is cold against the mess between your legs. It sends a chill up your spine—or maybe that was the crudeness of his words. You suppose you should’ve expected nothing less from him. When he goes to climb back over you and line himself up with you, your thighs twitch and try to snap shut.

He pins your hip to the floor. “Don’t be shy, baby. I wanna see that pretty pussy. It’s not fair to hide it from me.”

“Sorry,” you say, cheeks burning.

Taking that hand and sliding it up behind the back of one of your knees, pressing that thigh up to your torso, he laughs a teasing laugh down at you. “Don’t say sorry,” he says. He holds his length adjacent to your slit and then begins to slip up and down the length of it. “Just let me fuck you. I need it so bad.” He hisses in tandem with you. The drags of his length, harder than how you thought a cock might feel, is like undiluted liquor. “I can’t believe this… shit, princess. I’m about to fuck you. I thought I was going to have to sit here and watch you by his side.” 

You take your lip into your teeth when he pushes in. It stretches. You bring your hand up to cup the back of his neck and the other to dig into his tunic, mewling softly.

“It’s okay, princess. Hold on to me, you can take it, right? You cunt was built for me. Everything about you was made for me. Your heart, your pretty hands for me to hold, your sex, all of it. Do you feel how I fit right into you? How I was made to?”

You do. When he finally is balls-deep, his cock nestles exactly where it should. Not an inch too deep or an inch too scarce. The two of you were sculpted by something holy, fit just for each other. “Yes,” you breathe.

He can’t even linger sitting still  in you. He begins pulling himself out, all the way until the tip of him threatens to pop out lewdly, before shoving back in right up against that spot. He doesn’t even have to search for it. Head falling into your chest, he licks and bites. “The taste of you,” he says. Then, he presses his tall nose right over that spot in your neck where your heart’s gone wild. “The smell of you.” Wincing, he lays into you with more vigor, hips slapping against your skin. “The feel of you. You drive me up the fucking walls. How was I ever supposed to live without this?” he says. “I refuse.”

Your belly begins to tighten in a way that you’ve never known. Tears prick the corner of your ears, clinging to him as he fucks you into the floor like he’ll never have to opportunity to have you like this again. The wood cradles your back and the back of your hips, receiving each of his thrusts. You curl your toes and will back the lewd cries that threaten to spill over with each.

His voice is taut and wobbly. “Feels good, huh? I know. It feels… so good.” Dropping your thigh to cup your face, he says, “Cry. Cry for me. I said I wanted you to scream.”

Face burning and squirming against the hardwood behind you, you shake your head. “I can’t, gyu…”

“Yes you can,” he says, face twitching. “I want you to start letting it out, or I’m gonna stop. Do you want me to stop?”

Covering your face, with the back of a forearm, you grit your teeth through each punctual and yet sloppy grind up into you. Your bodies sweat and meld, and you’re sure that anybody walking by your quarters would know just by the hollow smacks of skin and grunts that you’re fucking a man. You, an engaged woman, are letting the prince turn your brain inside out.

But, there is nothing you want less than for him to stop. So, you let your mouth drop open and allow the sweet mewls to come with each rut.

“There we go. Louder.” He braces himself, digging his feet into the floor, and then he really starts driving into you. Sparks fly in your belly—each yellow and glowing and scalding. “Do I need to fuck you harder? C’mon, louder, princess.”

Thighs squeezing his hips so tight that they ache, you squirm. You struggle against your sounds—turning from sweet moans and mewls, you groan and gasp and your voice breaks. Each collision of your bodies breaks your sounds.

Curling your fingers into his silken hair, you grit out, “H—hoooh fuck, Beomgyu, Beomgyu, I feel… like…”

Bangs sticky and his eyes growing wilder, he knows something you don’t. The knowing, taunting grin on his mouth says enough. “Let it happen. Don’t fight it.  Just stay—stay right there, and I’ll give it to you. No running from it; it’s gonna feel so good.” His muscles go taut, and he doubles down on his efforts, panting through his nose and his neck sheened. He drops his head into your chest. “Fuck. Fuckkkk, I love you so much, princess. Thank you—thank you, so much.”

You don’t know why he’s thanking you. You don’t have the cognitive function to worry about that. Your mind has gone to two things: the growls and whines that rumble and tear from his chest, and the frightening tightness that only goes more dangerous. Your chest tightens—it feels as though, if he feeds that hungry beast gnawing deep down in your belly with any more of what he’s doing now, it will snap and take you down in its wake. Warbled cries crawling up your throat, you arch your back up into his chest to try and dig your hips into the floor, away from the bliss and the power of it.

“No,” he says, cursing. “No—don’t run from it. Don’t… Baby, please take what I’m giving you. It’s gonna be alright.”

Pushing back on the dark throes of the tide as it creeps up over your shoulders and sends shocks through your body, the hair on the back of your neck rising with the effort, you choke. Beomgyu takes a hand down the seam of your bodies and rolls your aching clit. They’re succinct and intentional—pressure right on the sensitive underside, sending your belly rippling as he pairs it with a few more sharp, more meaningful thrusts.

You see white. It’s white and hot. You are the sun, beaming and writhing like stardust. You curve off the floor once more, raking nails down the lengths of his back. Are you even making sound? You don’t know; you can’t hear it past the ringing piercing sharp in your ears. You shake beneath him, cunt gripping him frantically with flutters of your walls. 

He grunts, voice strained and shaking as he begins to follow his own release.  “Holy shit—look at you. You’re so f-filthy. So pretty, cumming on me.”

You bare each brush of his cock against your still twisting walls, trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your thighs jump and your toes curl, and it’s all too much, but not enough. He needs to come tumbling over the edge right along with you—if he comes with you, it doesn’t seem so hard. You chant his name, smooth voice gone hoarse.

Stilling inside you, he whines, “Shi—it.” A war wages behind his eyes for a long second before he slips his cock from you with a wet, squelching pop, strings of your release breaking as he lays his cock on your belly. His stomach goes tight, and with one last slide of his length, slick with your mess and staining your belly, his cock jumps. He shoots all over your skin, pretty glistening spurts like ribbons a milky white. 

He sits back on his haunches, slowly rubbing himself off to give you some more and come down. Your room is quiet now, aside from your heaving chests and the buzz of something new in the air. Letting his head fall back, wet strands of spiky black hair dangle around his neck, a bead of sweat catching light as it rolls down it.

“Feel okay?” he says, looking down on you with softened eyes. He pulls cloth from his pocket, unfolding the fine fabric, and he wipes himself off your belly.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, leaning into the palm he cups your cheek with. “I’m okay.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “The world didn’t explode, did it?” he says.

You share a stolen laugh with him, feeling every last honey wave receding from the spot between your thighs. The world hadn’t ended, and yet, in every way, it had. Savoring the abated rises and falls of his chest and the content sagging of his shoulders, your belly tightens anew. 

What happens now, when everything else has been a lie? When you don’t believe that you can survive that lie for any longer?

So many hands work on you. One of your ladies in waiting laces you up in the back, and another works on your hair even while you stand, and one bounces a wintry, snow-kissed rouge over the plush of your cheeks. 

Yesterday, your world changed. And today, you’re expected to go on living in it.

When Beomgyu slipped out from your room last night after hours of holding each other under the covers, indulging in your ability to touch, you let your heart crack in two. You shouldn’t have. Why had you let yourself think that it was going to end up anything other than like this? You, getting prettied up to be sent away with your expecting husband, and the dreams you’d let build up to the clouds in the prince’s arms all shattered on the floor at your feet.

What else can you do? Loving Beomgyu freely is out of the question. Your parents would laugh right in your face, or maybe lock you away and make even more sure that you never get to see him again.

You try to burn the image of his eyes into your memory. Black, big and round and cunning all the while. You commit the broadness of his shoulders, and the pretty straight line of his nose in profile, and the pink plushness of his lips, and the little freckles you’d discovered yesterday, and the sound of his voice in your ear, and the feel of his touch on your skin, too.

“We’ll leave you until it’s time to come collect you,” a Lady says, bowing at the waist to you as the others finish up, tying the fastening of your dress up quick and sprinkling their final touches over you before following her out.

Your room goes utterly quiet. More quiet than it’s ever felt.

Dragging your limbs over to your bed, you let yourself fall onto it despite all the care they’d taken to get your skirts right. Resting your cheek to your palm, you let your eyes fall closed as you memorize the feel of your own bed, too.

When you flutter them open, there’s something peeking out from the pillow across from you. You furrow your brows and reach for it.

The paper is folded up with haste, torn from the edge of somewhere else and scribbled on with a quick hand. How long has that been there, without you noticing? Pushing yourself up from the bed, careful to at least maintain the smoothness of your hair, you unfold it.

ℳ𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝓉 𝒮𝑤𝑎𝑛 ℒ𝑎𝑘𝑒. 

Your soul comes back to life and seeps through your bloodstream. Sitting there for a few moments, idle at the largeness of what you’re about to do, you loose a breath. 

And then, you curl your hand around it, shove yourself up in a flurry of white, crystalline skirts, and you go.

The curious faces of the palace hands you pass do not stop you, nor does the morning’s bite as you find your way outside, nor does the almost-slip over ice, and absolutely nothing else stops you as you run. Is he still going to be there when you make it?

God, please let him be there. Don’t let this be almost.

Fists full of the abrasive fabric of your skirts and darting by barren bushes and trees, you do not stop until you clear the little tree line and the lake stands vast and frosty ahead of you.

When Beomgyu spots you, and you spot his figure against the background of the lake crisp in the morning, the sweet cooing of the birds and the rest of the bustle falls away. None of it compares.

“You came,” he says, dragging his feet through the snow until he’s right in front of you, his features elegant once more in the clear morning haze. “I didn’t think you would.”

You reach up to dust away snowflakes resting on his hair. It’s an excuse to touch him—that’s all you find yourself wanting to do, now. Brows pinching, you say, “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just… was scared.”

“No, no, I came,” you say, feeling now the bare expanse of your arms. You run your hands up and down them. Heart in atrophy all the while feeling full just being here with him, you add, “Why did you want to meet here?”

The world is serene for a few long moments as he just looks at you, his gaze searching. “Don’t marry him. Don’t leave with him.”

You know where he’s going with this already. Letting your dress fall from your hands, the one they’d fashioned you in to do exactly that, you say, “And do what?”

“Be with me. Marry me. Be my wife,” he says, the lines of his face solemn. “Let’s elope and find a corner of the world that’s just ours, so that we will never have to hear another word from them again. Let’s just… be together. Finally.”

Chest swelling with something so hopeful that it’s painful, reality comes with its pin point and pops it. “Is that really what you want? You’ll take me, even though I’m promised to somebody else?”

His lip curls as though the thought were detestable. “What the fuck is a dowry to this? To the approval of the fates? The world could try snuff that fact out with whatever they’ll try, and a man could offer your parents a dowry of all its money, and still, you’d be mine. No matter what, our souls belong to each other.” His hand is frozen against your cheek. He’s been out here waiting for you for so long. “I’d take you, promised to another man. I’d take you no matter how you are; in a thousand different lives, I’d have you each time.”

That’s all you need to hear: that you are cherished for more than just your nature, but for yourself. That he loves you unendingly and undyingly, and all you have to do is leave by his side. You’ve already left it all behind—thrown any attachment to the wind, because truly, what is that to this? You don’t know where you’ll go, and you think Beomgyu hasn’t a clue either. But you’ll find that somewhere together. 

Together, your half sings. His answers with a thrilling beat.

“This time,” he says, eyes blazing with conviction. You know he feels the tug, too. “We got it right.”

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

✎୭ ashlynn's note MY SHAYLAAAAA. MY SHAYLAAAAAAA!

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[elodieunderglass]

Long-time listener, first time caller here! In reference to Bill the Pony and the mines, are you familiar with the poem “The Bells of Heaven” by Ralph Hodgson? (Harriet Vane fans also take note!)

Twould ring the bells of Heaven

The wildest peal for years,

If Parson lost his senses

And people came to theirs,

And he and they together

Knelt down with angry prayers

For tamed and shabby tigers

And dancing dogs and bears,

And wretched, blind pit ponies,

And little hunted hares.

(In reference to how original character Killie would give a PowerPoint presentation on pit ponies and how Bill the Pony, a SHETLAND, would be well-enough suited to a mine that he should have come with them. Which you can imagine sparking off a fight with his lotr nerd boyfriend, who’d be pointing out that based on this extensive evidence, mines do indeed appear to be bad places for ponies, and Killie pointing out that a perfectly navigable mine is right in a Shetland’s wheelhouse while octopuses aren’t, and Derek pointing out the orcs, and Killie pointing out that if they knew about the orcs why did they all lie. This was presented as an operational mine. Take the pony. And Derek’s like it isn’t that deep. You are supposed to be immersed in the story. And Killie’s natural sense of justice is too outraged by Not Appreciating Pit Ponies that he says he is Done with this Stupid Film and goes for a 5k run.) 🏃‍♂️

Anyway LEAVING ASIDE Killie, the rotten little weirdo, and his TERMINAL HORSE OBSESSION - I adore this poem. The origin of Harriet Vane’s “shabby tigers”! Which represents what I believe to be the stirring of both her and Peter’s latent, just-for-this-one-person twinges of vestigial heterosexuality 🫡 🐅 they are both gay but straight for each other (to me)

Pit ponies. Pit ponies are indeed incredibly moving to me. A small creature, a little horse, that is forced for its life into the dark; some, once a year, had a single holiday of sun and grass… some were permanently dropped into the mineshaft, lowered in chains, and lived their whole lives down there. The image of the pony dropped in chains; working in their mining gear; the ponies with their little mining helmets - sometimes with cages over the eyes; but what did it matter if they went blind? - and how kindly the miners cared for them. How they were loved, how they were exploited, how they were used up - eaten all up - just like the coal, just like the miners - fuel for the engines. Hundreds of years of little animals toiling deep and lonely under the earth. Their little stables carved in rock! Their little names! How could you NOT write poetry for them. How could you NOT feel how heavy the mountain was on their backs! How heavy the empire! Those poor miners, those poor canaries, those poor ponies.

I have a daemonAU fanfic with a pit pony daemon in it. Her name is Anne, and she should end her story by getting to go on some grass, under a clean sky, and thinking about the things she likes.

And I don’t think dungeons and mines and Deep Places in fiction should get away, clean-handed and bloodless, without the ghost of a pit pony or two in there. If the mines are no place for a pony, they’re no place for miners either.

Thank you so much for writing in - it’s lovely to meet you.

[moon-fics]

Hey there! 👋

Can I request a Bob Floyd xreader where the reader loves food, and when they first meet each other (like he walks into a restaurant and see her), she's stuffing her face (not too crazy though) with food cuz she's hungry and she looks up at him with a deer-in-headlights look and he thinks it's adorable but she finds it embarrassing. It's something I would do, and I think it'd be hilarious to read 🙃

Do you even have to ask? I'd write this happily even if you demanded it rudely! Love it!

It's been a long, long day. Work had you up at 5am, and you slept in, so breakfast wasn't an option. You missed lunch because your boss called you into a meeting. Now, it was finally dinner and your friends had made plans with you.

Unfortunately, they weren't there when you arrived. They texted you saying traffic was so bad that they wouldn't make it until an hour later. So, you're stuck with reservations for three with just you there.

You decide not to let your reservation at this fancy restaurant go to waste. You order something off the menu that you cannot pronounce correctly, and decide to just stick with it. The worst thing that could happen is it taste terrible, but you'll eat it anyway.

The universe smiles on you because the food is divine. It's as good as the price, and you're so hungry you basically stuff your face with it. Of course, you keep your manners and wipe your lips after every bite. You're so engrossed in finally eating you don't notice the man at another table staring at you until his friends begin laughing.

You freeze at the realization that they've probably been watching you eat and have been using you for entertainment. You slow your bites and try to recover your dignity. That stops when the man staring at you approaches your table. You're stuck mid-bite when he reaches your table, and all you can do is stare up at him with wide eyes.

"I, uh, I just wanted to say you have really pretty eyes," He says nervously. His glasses fall from his face an inch, and he pushes them back up. You realize he's wearing some sort of uniform, but you aren't sure for which branch. His brown hair is neatly pulled back and cut short. You know there's a base near here, but you barely see anyone in uniform. "That's all. Thank you!" He coughs out.

He's about to scramble back to his table when you swallow your bite and stop him. "Wait, is that why you were staring at me?" You ask firmly. He spins back around with a mortified look.

"You noticed?" He sounds surprised. As if he were somehow being the sneakiest man in the world, and assumed you didn't even notice him. "No, that wasn't- I mean, yes, I was staring because you're beautiful. It was also because my friends kept telling me to approach you," He admits.

You glance past him to see his friends with wide smiles. One of them gives you a thumbs up, and it's almost laughable. This is such a romcom type of thing to happen, and yet it's happening to you. You return your focus to him.

"So, you were just going to say I look beautiful and leave?" You rest your head on your hand. Did he even think this encounter through? What did he even want to gain from it other than saying he told you? "I mean, it's nice, but usually guys ask for a number or social." You point out.

"Yeah, I was going to ask. You just looked busy with your food, and I really didn't want to be the guy who randomly asks women for their numbers." He mumbles. You feel bad for him because he clearly wants to talk to you, but he has no idea how. He probably faces dangers regularly, but this is anxiety-inducing for him.

"Ok, so why don't you join me?" You suggest while gesturing to one of the empty chairs at your table. "You seem sweet, and it would be nice not to eat alone." He nods at your proposal and pulls out the chair across from you.

You spend the rest of the night talking and learning about each other. He's a lieutenant in the Navy and a back seater. It's much more interesting than your job, so that takes away the need to bring up your terrible day. With every new topic, his eyes light up and his lips grow into a wider smile. The more time he's with you, the better he feels about approaching your table. He doesn't want the night to end and he'll make sure to thank his friends for forcing him over here.

By the end of the conversation, he offers to pay for your meal and even asks if you want dessert. You're surprised at how much of a gentleman he is, but you don't let him pay.

"So, Bob, is this more than you expected to get from saying I was pretty?" You ask as you both exit the restaurant. The mood has shifted to a more playful atmosphere. It's much better than the awkward tense one you had when first meeting.

"I said your eyes were pretty," He corrects with an amused tone. "But after spending time with you, I'd say you were more than just gorgeous." His words make your heart race. You haven't had a man act this way towards you in a long time, and suddenly he appears while you're eating food like an animal. It's humiliating and satisfying at the same time.

"Well, you'll just have to call me for more time then." You wink. It doesn't dawn on you that he doesn't have your number. It doesn't hit him either.

You only realize when you get home and check your phone. The amount of screams you unleash into your pillow is too many. There's no way you'd run into him again. You don't even know how long he'll be in the area. Your luck ran out and you're paying for it.

--

It hasn't even been two days, and you've found him. Somehow, somewhere in the cosmos, a star is fond of you. You're staring at him from across the coffee shop. He's already gotten his order, and he's about to leave. You can either let him go and get your breakfast, or risk not eating this morning to stop him.

You'll just have to starve because you don't even get to consider the choice before you're grabbing his arm. He's a lot firmer than you thought, and it catches you off guard.

His head snaps to you, and his surprise changes to relief instantly. "I don't have your number!" He blurts out. The first thing he thought about when seeing you was the reason he never reached out.

"I know!" You laugh. "I forgot to give it to you. I didn't think I'd see you again, so when I did, I didn't want to lose you," You explain. You let go of his arm and hide both behind your back. Now, it's your turn to be timid.

"I-I carried around mine on a card in case I saw you," He confesses. He pulls out his wallet and shows you a ripped-out notebook paper with his number on it. Next to it was your name with a tiny heart next to it.

[loverboysturn]

— newboy!matt and sheriff'sdaughter!reader meet again.

au masterlist ꒰ here ꒱ | taglist ꒰ here ꒱ | main masterlist ꒰ here ꒱

꒰ midnight. saturday night ꒱

you’d always been told by your parents, especially your dad, not to drive around this late at night.

your dad would be out on his usual saturday night patrol by now, and if he knew you were still out on the roads at this time, he’d lose it. he’d be even more mad if he knew that you’d accidentally let your tank get almost empty and had no other choice but to stop at the gas station on your way home.

the town you had always lived in your whole life was small, and it was quiet, nothing really ever happened here but your dad being the sheriff made you feel more protected than most especially when you were out late at night. everyone in this town knew everyone and they all knew who you and your family were, they all called you baby, because of course, you were the sheriff’s youngest baby, it was a nickname given to you when you were younge and it had just stuck forever.

you pulled into the gas station, the only light being from inside the station store. it had a dark, cold and almost abandoned feel to it, the lights above you flickered where they were barely working, this place was so rundown but it was the only one in town that stayed open past midnight therefore your only choice right now.

as you stopped your car’s engine, you noticed that there was another vehicle here, it was a black truck, it was brand new and you recognised it almost instantly. it was nathan doe’s truck.

your stomach sank. it had been nearly two weeks since the bar fight incident, but everyone in town including all your friends were still talking about it, and you’d heard the rumours that nate had closely befriended matt, the mysterious new boy in town causing all the trouble.

you jumped out, pretending you hadn’t seen it but as you moved around your car, there he was standing there. matt.

he was leaning casually against nate’s truck, he had his hood up, a cigarette hanging from his mouth as he typed away to someone on his phone. it was dark, but you could still make out the cut on his lip and the purple bruise still lingering beneath his left eye. they looked like they were healing, but they were still there.

you pretended you hadn’t noticed him, hoping you could just fill up your tank and leave without being noticed. your hands were shaking a little, unsure why you suddenly felt nervous but you tightened your grip on the pump and carried on.

“does daddy know you’re out this late?”

matt’s voice was low, and you could now feel his eyes on you.

you didn’t look over at him, attempting to focus on what you were doing.

“do you know how bad smoking is for you?” you say, finally looking over at him.

he glances at you, then drops the cigarette to the ground crushing it under his shoe without saying another word.

your eyes meet then, neither of you saying anything else nor looking away from each other. his eye contact is intense, and it instantly makes you feel more nervous.

“i haven’t been able to stop thinking abo—“ matt starts to say, but he’s cut off by the sound of the store doors behind him opening.

nate appears, a drink in one hand and a box of cigarettes in the other. he tosses the box over to matt, looking over to you with a grin on his face. “oh, hi baby,” he says calling you by your nickname intentionally, but friendly as always as he makes his way round to the drivers seat of his truck. “you good?”

you nod, but your eyes stay locked on matt’s, as his are still on yours. he gives you a small nod, then he steps back towards the car as nate climbs in and starts the engine, but before matt gets in the truck, his voice is low, again.

“i’ll be seeing ya, baby.”

—

꒰ 🏷️ tags ꒱ @oopsiedaisydeer | @sturns-mermaid | @leaningoutthewindow | @bluestriips | @izzylovesmatt | @cykss | @backwardshatnick | @jaybirdie34 | @skye-44 | @marrykisskilled | @courta13 | @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee | @whore-for-pickles24 | @auttysturnz | @chrismyman | @urmama2464 | @kitty-meow-meow44 | @matts-247 | @j21l91 | @mattsturnzz24 | @iloveneilperry | @ilovesamgoldencoch | @nixizz | @pip4444chris | @msvalsius | @xlprkendal | @evansturn | @lovingpeachdefendor22 | @sheluvsthesturniolos | @moond0llie

[fallminlove]

svt telling you "i love you" for the first time - ot13 ver

8 letters, 3 words, every one of the words by itself has such a simple meaning, but together, it weighs an amount that’s indescribable with just any simple words

-> paring: seventeen x gn!reader -> genre: fluff, angst-ish (ljh), established relationships, non-idol!seventeen -> word count: 4.7k -> content warning: mentions of food (csc, hjs, jww, xmh, kmg, lc), mentions of alcohol (ksy), usage of the word "damn" (lsm), pet names ("my love" - hjs, xmh ; "babe" - kmg ; "bub" - lsm)

p.s. this has been something i've been working on for a while ! but my life has gotten so busy i never got around to finish / editing it. now this finally sees the light of the day, i really hope you enjoy this and enjoy all the little blurbs i wrote !!

❥ C. Seungcheol - while you were making dinner for the two of you Though it was still early in your relationship with Seungcheol, something clicked and everything felt just right with him. It felt like it was a calling that you decided that you’ll move in with him. (Let’s just admit it was the fact that Seungcheol can’t stand one moment without you-) Usually when making dinner, it was a time of the day that you both get to enjoy each other’s company. The two of you would be home together after a long day of work, prepping the ingredients, taking sneaky little bites before the meal is finished, having silly little banters like what’s the best type of pasta. But today, Seungcheol had a meeting at the company that ran a little late. You decided to cook a nice warming stew awaiting the other’s return. 

You hear the door click open, and Seungcheol comes into the house. He sets his bag on the floor and shuffles to the kitchen to the smell of the lovely dinner, and to you, of course. His arms wrapping tightly around your waist, placing his face in the crooks of your neck from behind, “I’m home”, he mumbles, “do you need me to help with anything?” You giggle at the tickling vibrations as he mumbled, but also at the sight of how clingy your boyfriend is after he’s tired.  You continued stirring the stew, making sure the bottom doesn’t get burned, “I don’t think so, this is going to be ready soon,” you ruffled his hair with your other open hand, “how about you just rest for a bit? you seem tired” Seungcheol nods as he lets go of you unwillingly, but he knows he has to get out of his work clothes that’s starting to make him uncomfortable.  He came back to the kitchen just as you are scooping the stew into two bowls for the two of you, making its finishing touches. As he watched, several thoughts coursing through his mind, he couldn’t help smiling at how he feels right at home with you, “thank you for making dinner tonight, I love you”.

❥ Y. Jeonghan - while were peacefully taking a nap, right next to him The relationship dynamic between you and Jeonghan have always been playfully bickering and teasing with each other. It was as if you dated your best friend.  One relaxing afternoon, you and Jeonghan decided to put on a movie to watch together. You’re curled up on the side of Jeonghan, with his arms draping over you, holding you in closer. At first, the two of you would make comments at the movie, but as the movie progressed the two of you started making less comments and focused on the plot. As the credits roll, Jeonghan finds it weird that he didn’t hear a peep from you at all. He turns his head to see that apparently at some point during the movie, you have dozed off to sleep in his comforting embrace. At that moment, Jeonghan was so mesmerized by how peaceful you were. He has stopped and taken a closer look at you, he sees how calmly you were breathing, cheeks in a slight rosy pink, and just taking in every one of your features in awe. He presses a gentle kiss on the top of your forehead, “I love you” he whispers.

❥ H. Jisoo - during a business formal event Inside of the ballroom people gathered in groups, making small talks, or wandering around for a light treat. The classical music triumphs through the venue, chandeliers laminating the room. It is the first time you’ve attended an event like this. Noticing that you were a bit nervous, Joshua extended his hand, “if i may?” Taken aback by his very formal language, you smiled at his gesture and took in his hand, the warmth from the touch of his hand did make you feel a bit more comforted.  It was an end of the year company party, each employee is able to bring a plus one, and of course, you’re the number one on your boyfriend’s list. Joshua did warn you how formal and business-y it would be, knowing that you don’t quite enjoy these types of gatherings. “If at any point of the night you’re uncomfortable, let me know, we can head home.” The two of you walked into the ballroom hand in hand, your other hand holding on to your gown making sure you don’t step and trip over yourself. Joshua greeted some clients that he’s been working with, and introduced you to some of his coworkers. Because of having him by your side, you felt a bit more comfortable exchanging some small conversations.  The two of you wandered around a little more and you noticed that some of the couples were sharing a dance together. Seeing where your gaze wandered off to, Joshua asks, “may I ask for a dance with you?” You chuckled at the way of how formally Joshua has been speaking with you all night, “of course,” you responded with a light nod.  Joshua led you to the center, where the others were dancing. The only experience you had with waltzing is seeing it in the movies, and you did the best that you could to mimic what you can remember. Joshua was also there to guide you, placing your arms, holding your hands, and whispering which foot you should step with.  Eventually you got the swing of things, and you started to notice physically how close and how intimate you were with Joshua. You also realized that Joshua was looking back at you, eyes glittering with admiration, “I don’t think I’ve told you tonight, you look beautiful my love. I love you”

❥ W. Junhui - after coming back from a business trip This was the first time in your relationship that Junhui was away for so long, well, two weeks. But for new couples like the two of you, this is like living in the trenches. Luckily the internet is so advanced today you’re able to leave messages throughout the day, or video chat whenever there’s free time between the two of you. But with the timezone difference the timing just doesn’t line up quite nicely. And it just doesn’t feel the same without having the other person right next to you. It finally came to the day that Junhui was returning back home from the long war business trip, you excitedly waited at the gate hoping to catch him as soon as he walked out. When Junhui saw you in the crowd, he made a beeline towards you and hugged you and held you in his arms. You had planned all these things you wanted to tell him that you didn’t get to over the phone, but his warm hug made you completely forget everything that was on the top of your mind. Junhui says softly by your ear, “I love you, I missed you”

❥ K. Soonyoung - when he had one too many drinks during a night out  You knew Soonyoung was catching up with some friends tonight, and knew there would be alcohol involved. But you weren’t expecting that your boyfriend would get so drunk that his cute tipsy rambling voice memos would turn into random mumbling nonsense or just the background noise of the bar where he’s currently at.  It was getting quite late and you were beginning to worry for Soonyoung, you grabbed your light jacket and keys and headed to the bar and retrieved your boyfriend before he went rogue.  When you arrive at the bar, you see Soonyoung and his friends are actually outside getting some air. “Oh you are here!” One of his friends calls to you, while trying to hold Soonyoung upright, “we were just about to call to have you pick him up.” Soonyoung was definitely at his limits, as he’s just leaning on his friends. When he saw you approach his eyes lit up and stumbled straight towards you. You held Soonyoung in your arms, you couldn’t help it but to pinch his bright flushed cheeks. The alcohol made his face glow in a way that takes out all of the fierceness while he’s his sober self, now he just looks like a little kid that wants to be held and cuddled.  You and Soonyoung bid his friends a goodbye and the two of you walked hand in hand down the lamp-lit street. The walk was filled with Soonyoung’s drunk rambles, just like how it was on the phone. The cool summer breeze blows by as the two of you walk, definitely helping Soonyoung sober up a little.  Suddenly you felt a tug on your hand that was stopping your track.  “Soonyoung what’s wrong?” You turned around and saw his head held low, but the grip tightening on your hand, “Do you feel sick? Do you need—”, before you could finish your sentence, you see tears coming down his face. You tried to wipe his tears away as he said between sniffles, “I love you, I’m so happy to have you in my life. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, I really mean it. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

❥ J. Wonwoo - while you’re on your first trip / vacation together “Wonwoo look! There’s an open spot there!” You excitedly pointed to an open area on the beach as you walked to the entrance. This is a trip you’ve had on your mind for quite a while. Since you wanted to see the sunset at the beach, and you knew that Wonwoo has been getting into photography, maybe he’ll enjoy taking some photos there as a token of memory in your relationship.  But unfortunately the trip keeps getting delayed, either you or Wonwoo’s schedule didn’t line up, or the weather just wasn’t getting the memo. Finally in early June, you guys were both able to set out for this trip as a little weekend getaway.  You did the best you can to “run” to the spot you were pointing at, sinking into the soft sand with each step does make it feel a bit awkward when you run. When you got to the open spot, you lay down your beach towels, putting down the bags you had in your hands and setting up all the snacks and treats you brought.  Since it was still early summer, the breeze that came by was still a bit chilly. Wonwoo cuddled next to you on the towel while you both just watched and listened to the waves coming in.  The two of you stayed like that for a bit, having small chitchats here and there. The sun was starting to set little by little, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. This reminded Wonwoo that he had his camera and wanted to capture this moment. “Let’s take a walk,” Wonwoo suggested, “maybe I’ll get some photos of you as well” You nodded excitedly and held Wonwoo’s hand to guide him into the shore. You watched as the waves inches closer and closer to you. Suddenly there was a nudge that caused you to stumble, causing you to hit the cold ocean water. You look back and see Wonwoo giggling and snapping pictures of your funny wincing faces, “yah Jeon Wonwoo! You should be lucky that you have a camera, or else I would’ve dragged you with me!” “Ahh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Wonwoo comes over and gives you a hug, “I promise I’ll take normal pictures now” “You better!” You pouted at him, continuing on your path along the shore. Wonwoo stayed behind you, taking photos of the scenery and his surroundings.  There was a moment that you stopped, looking out at the ocean. The rays of the sun hit perfectly on your features, and you were just taking in the beauty of nature. But to Wonwoo, he was trying to take in the beauty of his view, that is you. He snaps a couple of portrait shots of you, before the moment passes.  You carried on your trail while Wonwoo is looking back at the photos he just took. He kept on admiring the photos, well — admiring the person — and smiling to himself, “I love you, you’re just like everything I wanted in my dreams” he whispers to himself.

❥ L. Jihoon - after he showed his vulnerable side to you  Jihoon is not a man that outwardly expresses his feelings, he often bottles them in. Which wasn’t an issue before he met you, but now it feels like you can never understand him, or know what he needs or wants. It is not an easy task for him, and you two often get into arguments because you feel like you’re getting shut out of his world.  After one particularly nasty fight over text, you had to put your phone down and walk away from the situation before it turns into something worse. You walked around the neighborhood, hoping to get your mind cleared, and rethought everything that has been said. You sort of started to understand Jihoon’s perspective and you were feeling guilty for some of the things you’ve said to him. You hurried back to your house hoping you’re able to still apologize and amend for what has happened.  When you reached your house you see a familiar sedan car, it was Jihoon’s. He’s sees you approaching and steps out of the car, he has the hood of his black hoodie up his bangs also covered his eyes, “Jihoon,” you called out slowly approaching to him, “I just thought about what happened earlier, I’m sorry for some of the things I said earlier...” You couldn’t see his eyes, but you can tell his lips were trembling, tears rolling down his face, “I tried to call you earlier but you didn’t answer, I literally thought of all the worse possibilities-“ he takes a deep breath to catch his composure, “I literally thought you were going to walk away and never come back…” You shook your head and held him close, as he sobs into you, “I’m really sorry I said those things to you,” petting his back to soothe his feelings, “I should’ve been more patient, I know expressing your feelings is hard for you. But trust me we can work through this together alright?”  Jihoon wipes away his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie, finally meeting your gaze through the wisps of his wetted bangs, “thank you, I love you.”

❥ X. Minghao - when you surprised him on his birthday   3… 2… 1… As soon as the clock struck 5pm on the dot, you grabbed your belongings and clocked out of the office. You wrote down an itinerary for all the locations you need to visit before you get to your final destination, your boyfriend, Minghao’s house.  It was quite a special day, it was Minghao’s birthday, and this is his first birthday that you spent together. You let him know ahead of the time that you were busy today with work, so all the text responses to him were brief.  What he didn’t know is that you had a big surprise waiting for him.  When you got to Minghao’s house with dinner, a cake, and a beautiful bouquet of tulips in hand, the birthday boy was shocked, “I thought you forgot about my birthday today,” followed with a pout, “you were so busy you didn’t even say happy birthday to me.”  “I thought you said you didn’t care about your birthdays,”you said and you were setting down everything in the house, “But it’s okay, I’m here to make it up now!” Minghao gave you a smile and said he’s just playing with you, but in his eyes you can tell he was a little bit upset and expected something more.  The two of you caught up on what happened today over dinner, and were ready to light the candles for the cake. Though it was just the two of you in the house, the birthday song still felt heartwarming and cheerful.  As Minghao was taking the candles out of the cake, you started, “Actually Hao, there’s another present that I have for you,” you tapped on the screen of your phone before looking up, “okay now check your phone.” Curious and with some suspicions, Minghao looked at his phone, a moment passed and his face expression changed to shock, then to glee, “no way you got these art museum tickets for me?! They were sold out immediately, how did you get them?”  You nodded proudly, “Of course I did! You told me these were hard to get, so I had to prepare myself for war when I got—” before you could finish you were interrupted by an excited tight hug from Minghao.  “Thank you so much my love, I love you.”

❥ K. Mingyu - while you’re taking care of him when he’s sick Mingyu never gets sick, but sometimes, we can’t all be god’s favorites.  Mid-week he started to feel the symptoms of a cold, stuffy nose, sore throat, and other light symptoms that he thought will go away soon.  Unfortunately, it is the weekend and his symptoms got a bit worse after day 1. You couldn’t bear to see Mingyu suffering alone, so you went out to buy some groceries and more cold medicine, hoping you can make a hearty meal to help him fight off his sickness.  When you got to his place he looked like a lost puppy in his big hoodie trailing behind you to the kitchen, “babe you don’t have to stay, I don’t want you to get sick because of me.” “Gyu, I’d rather be sick than know how you’ve been taking care of yourself alone while you’re alone.” You poured a glass of orange juice for him, then shot him a “go sit down and rest please” look.  Your big-pup like boyfriend sluggishly dragged himself and plopped himself at the dining room table so he’s still able to see you from a distance, as he sips on his juice.  After he finished the bowl of chicken noodle soup you made and took the cold medicine, you saw that there was a little bit more life in him.  You brushed out his hair with your fingers, “You’re always there to protect me, now let me take care of you,” Mingyu opened his mouth to respond but instead a yawn came out. You chuckled, “I think the meds are hitting you, go take a nap for now, I got the dishes.” Mingyu nodded and wanted to give you a hug, but remembered he was sick, so he stopped mid-track to make various hearts to you with his arms and body, “Thank you babe, I love you babe.”

❥ L. Seokmin - when he’s seeing you enjoy a perfect date that he had planned  (it is highly recommended to listen to 7PM by BSS while reading this blurb!) Usually you’re the one who’s planning out all the dates that you and Seokmin go on, eating at new restaurants, watching live shows and movies, having cute at home dates. But these past few weeks you’ve been swamped with a major group project with some not so competent group mates, you weren’t able to plan out your next date nor had the energy or time to see your boyfriend. Earlier in the week, during one of your project breaks, you picked up your phone to update Seokmin, making sure he knows you’re still alive. “It’s okay Bub! Let me plan our next date then, I’ll pick you up once you’ve submitted your project,” Seokmin texted a couple days ago. This message definitely peeked your interests and gave you some motivation to finish your project as soon as possible. “I wonder what crazy ideas he has…” You said to yourself. 10 minutes before the deadline of the project, you took a deep sigh and closed the lid of your laptop. You didn’t want to see that damned project ever again after you’ve pressed the submit button.  You didn’t know how long it’s been since you disconnected from the outside world for the last few days, before you could reach for your phone to reconnect, someone rang your doorbell to connect in person. On the other side of the door was Seokmin, smiling big and bright, till he saw your drained face. It was as if the dark rain clouds suddenly covered the sun, his expression turned to full on worry, “oh bub, are you alright? Did you get your project submitted?”  You nodded and gave Seokmin a hug to reassure him that you’re alright, it was a way for you to recharge, feeling his warmth, “sorry to make you worry Seokmin, this project was way more complicated than I thought.” The boy sighs and gives you a reassuring head pat, “at least it’s over now. Now go change, we have a Seokmin Special to go to!” It was as if Seokmin’s energy had rubbed off on you, you quickly got changed and grabbed your belongings to anticipate what’s about to happen. “We are here!” Seokmin exclaims, you looked around, it was a park near the Han River, “I thought after your stressful weeks we should get you reconnected with the nature, and here,” Seokmin says as he’s pulling out a pair of earbuds from his pocket, holding out one side to you, “I made a playlist for our walk.” You put in the earbud, and Seokmin puts in the other. As soon as he started his playlist it felt like it was the missing piece that locked the whole puzzle together for this date. The two of you walked hand in hand, seeing the sun slowly setting on the horizon of the river.  You stopped for a moment to look at Seokmin, your smile couldn’t keep in how much you enjoyed and appreciated what he has done for you, “thank you Seokmin, I really needed this.” Seokmin smiles back, taking a step to be directly in front of you, and having both of your hands in his, “Of course Bub, I love you. I would do anything to keep that smile on your face.”

❥ B. Seungkwan - when you noticed / picked up on small habits that he has Not everyone recognizes their little habits, since you just do them without you even noticing. You would say you’re a pretty observant person, at least you thought you were, until you’re with Seungkwan.  He seems to be able to remember and notice so many small little things you do, making small noises when you enjoy a certain food, skipping or running when you see a long hallway, needing to have your pillow in your lap before you start reading your book, the list just goes on.  But from how long you’ve been together you feel like you haven’t picked up any of his habits, or at least if someone asked you, there’s nothing that comes to your mind. One night, Seungkwan calls you over to help him run through his presentation for the next day. You can tell Seungkwan put a lot of effort into his presentation, the information was clear and concise, straight to the point. You critiqued some points, and had him run through the presentation a couple more times. And that’s when you noticed something, or at least felt something was off? Seungkwan looked nervous? No, stiff. Then you have an idea of what’s going on.  “Seungkwan,” the boy hums in response, “can you hold on to this pen and start your presentation again?” Seungkwan gave you a puzzled look, as he took over the pen, “Is there something wrong?”  In your mind you had an image, everytime Seungkwan needed to do something serious he had something in his hands. It may be a crumpled piece of paper that was a trashed idea to fidget, or a pen to actually take note during the meeting, he just always had something.  “I’m trying to test a theory, I’ll see if my point is proven after you finish.” Confused, Seungkwan begins his presentation from the top again. This time you can clearly see and hear that he is more relaxed. He’s using the pen to point at diagrams and charts in the presentation, and there’s more of a dynamic and liveliness in his presentation.  It was as if he has caught on too, his facial expression changed to surprised and he stops in the middle of the presentation to look at you, “oh my gosh,” he whispered, “you’re a genius, I love you”

❥ C. Hansol - after he realized you were doing something that you weren’t too interested in but did it just for him Many people say that amusement parks are for little kids, which you don’t disagree with, but who doesn’t want to continue living out their inner child? There’s something about the atmosphere of an amusement park that just lightens up your mood. The cheerful music, the vibrant colors on the buildings, it was just the perfect escape from reality, and luckily Vernon enjoys amusement parks too. But for a different reason. He’s been eyeing and asking if you two can ride the rollercoaster since you guys arrived at the park, but you’ve never told him. You were quite afraid of heights.  You were able to avoid that ride for a bit because of the wait time, or because of maintenance. After all, it is the main attraction and most popular ride at the park.  But you’ve never seen Vernon having this much energy and he’s just so excited about that ride, “let’s go on it! The line isn’t too long!” You didn't want to ruin his mood and you agreed to get into the line. After coming out of the ride, Vernon has finally noticed that unusualness from you, your hands were cold and clammy, “darling are you alright? Do you feel sick from the ride?” “Sorry Vernon I didn’t tell you this,” you looked down at your feet, “I didn't want to ruin your mood so I didn't tell you, I’m kinda afraid of heights...” Vernon sighs, “I’m sorry I didn't notice earlier,” his tone sounds like he’s blaming himself, “I love you and appreciate you considering my feelings, but next time please let me know if you aren’t comfortable with something. I don’t want you to do something for me that you’re uncomfortable with”

❥ L. Chan - when you were looking out for him, making sure he’s taking care of himself “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know earlier,” Chan says over the phone, “I got told to work overtime last minute so I won’t be able to come home in time for dinner” “Aww,” you responded back, “how long are you going to be there for? I can wait so we can eat together once you’re home.” Chan sighs, “honestly I’m not sure. They apparently need these documents ready by tomorrow’s meeting. I’m sorry honey, you don't have to wait for me. I’ll let you know when I finish and ready to head home,” you hear the call end and sigh. You were almost finished prepping dinner, but instead of feeling upset, you were actually more worried if he would make enough time to get a meal for himself.  You looked through the cabinets to see if there were any containers to pack up a portion of the dinner so you could deliver it to Chan. Luckily his office is not too far from home and you could just deliver him a hot dinner before it turns cold.  You arrived at the front of his office building and gave Chan a call again, “Hey Channie, come down in front of the office, I got something for you” Chan was shocked to see you in front of the office, you gave him the lunch bag that’s filled with the freshly made and still warm dinner, “I was afraid you won’t eat properly if you were working over time. Please remember to eat and take care of yourself Chan” Chan pulls you into a tight hug, “I will work hard for you, for us, I love you.”

p.p.s. a new love letter has been shared! @ppyopulii @h4nner -> if you want to be notified when new letters have been shared, please comment or sent in an ask!

[papa-inocencio]

You're totally free to decline, but do you mind doing some headcanons on benitez's relationship with lawrence? How would you think they would be different from a full open romantic relationship? This is going off track from the Canon movie, but I'm still curious. Thanks! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

I got you my friend

Lawrenitez secret third thing Headcanons

Benitez was the first to fall for Lawrence, at the time he saw it as a sort of inmature crush that would fade away.

They were constantly at each other's side after the conclave. Vincent was new to this world, and Lawrence was more than eager to teach him.

When Lawrence notices his feelings for Benitez, he was already head over heels, following him like a lost puppy.

When their thighs touch when sitting too close, or their hands brush as they walk, neither of them mention it.

They often talk late at night, sometimes until the morning comes.

Aldo one time tells Lawrence "they're dangerously close to crossing a line they shouldn't" about his friendship with Vincent.

Lawrence gets defensive over this- He explains it's nothing of the sorts, but he cannot stop thinking of it when he meets Vincent again.

Despite his best judgement, he doesn't try to change their arragement.

One night, over a cup of wine or two, they discuss the nature of relationships, and the blurry borders between them

They hold each other and dance. Benitez says "I love you" and Laawrence says it back.

Is it romantic? Yes, but that doesn't mean they're more than platonic. What they feel is also the love of God and the holy spirit, who had bound their souls.

After that, their routine and dynamic doesn't change. They just know they're each other's.

They love the domesticity they share behind closed doors.

They each live on their own appartment inside the Vatican. But it is common for the sisters to catch a sight of Cardinal Lawrence walking out of the Pope's chambers in the mornings.

They kiss each other's hands every monday to start a good week.

They share a bed when they both are sure they won't be needed in the morning.

Vincent likes holding Lawrence against his chest. And Lawrence likes playing with Vincent's hair.

As Lawrence gets older, his legs start giving him issues. As a result, the internet goes wild at the images of the Pope pushing a wheelchair with some cardinal to all his public appearances.

The apostolic castle is already equiped with all the accesibility necessary for it- so it's only natural he moves in with Vincent.

Sometimes they dare to share feather light kisses on the lips.

Lawrence feels guilty over the attention Vincent gives him now. But he accepts it.

Lawrence's last days are with Innocent holding him close and reading him bible verses.

As far as the outside world ever knows, Vincent is a solidary and kind man, who couldn't leave his best friend behind when he got sick.

Their friends inside the Curia all suspect- but they don't really know what they have. Their imaginations assume a sort of carnal intimacy that doesn't exist.

What they share... it manifest differently from what it's to be expected.

Rumors exist, but Pope Innocent has done so much for the church that it's ignored in favour of his more notable work.

Vincent and Lawrence are both sent to rest in Santa Maria della Neve under the Pope's request.

[jojo-schmo]

I always wanted to ask but got nervous

Between Forgo Masked Dedede vs. Awoofy Prince Bandee

Who'd win? Like I love the role swap between them but the idea of who's more powerful between the two while brainwashed got me thinking 🤔

Also I am getting a 3d printer soon and learning sculpting and I love the forgotten world roleswap and you're making tempted to actually buy the game so watch out I am gonna attempt to print and paint that awoofy boi!

(I just realized you specifically asked about the masked versions of these characters- but my imagination went wild and I explored their first boss fight form first-! I am so sorry about that and I’ll try to explore their masked versions sometime soon <3 )

SO Primal Dedede vs Primal Bandee was a wild idea to explore (pun intended). They’re both very powerful in their own right- Dedede’s larger size and strength makes him a tank. But Bandee’s smaller size and speed make him nimble! So I couldn’t come up with a winner yet. :’D

But the battle itself is pretty tragic and emotional on principle-!! A King vs his most loyal subject, but neither of them are really in fully control of their actions…. And in the Forgotten Land Light Novels, when Bandee fights Primal Dedede, he’s so filled with despair and shock that he can barely move, and the guilt of fighting Dedede, even if it was necessary, stayed with him for almost the entire rest of the story!

But under Fecto Forgo’s control? Dreamland’s stubborn King, and most loyal guardian…? This is something neither of them would back down from. And since they’re not themselves, I think they would resort to more vicious and under-handed maneuvers that would deeply shock both of them when they’re back to normal.

Here’s some of my brainstorming while considering this!

Two Beasts meet in that fated arena in Winter Horns…. Circling each other to gauge each other’s strengths and weaknesses…

The battle begins with their powerful battle cries!!

Dedede goes straight in with his hammer, but I love the idea that Bandee has some great strength hidden in him… Remember Megaton Punch? <3

Bandee tries his claws-

But Dedede’s larger size makes close combat more risky. (Side note, Primal Dedede picks up Bandee and throws him to the ground in the Light Novels too!) I think it’s a pretty brutal move that regular Dedede would never try- his pride in his battle skills is too great to resort to this.

Spearing the Great King’s robes?! A callous action Primal Bandee doesn’t think twice about. Humiliated and enraged by being punted into the ground, he punches the King with all his might.

The King is PISSED. His pride is intact even through Fecto’s influence. Let’s see how you like it, you puny pup….

The second phase of the fight begins at some point and Dedede wields the pillar from the arena-

\

But The Awoofy Prince upgrades his weapon too….!

So yeah! I had to stop brainstorming since I have other projects to finish but I hope you enjoy my short exploration of, “What if these two were both brainwashed into a primal state, were not on the same side, and had to fight?”

And thank you for the kind words, dear Anon! I hope everyone knows they can ask me whatever they’d like! I just may not be able to answer everything but asks do bring me a lot of joy!

AND OMG- if you ever DO make a Primal Bandee figure…. It would fill me with indescribable joy if you could share some pictures of him! Thanks for the ask <3

[sugardollcurse]

I LOVE your hcs with the boys so much（´ 3｀) ok so picture this.... there's a rumour in the papers that he's having an affair, can you do how he'd show you that it's actually false and how he'd prove that he really loves you ? ˆ𐃷ˆ

𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑎 𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔

𐙚 note ; thank you for always being so kind!! i hope you’re feeling adored today!! ✿

𓆩🕊️ john 𓆪

"You really think I'd be stupid enough to cheat on you?"

It’s some daft article in the Mirror.

Claims John was seen laughing “intimately” with an actress at a party. There’s even a fuzzy photo. You barely mention it, but he knows.

He catches you going quiet when you think he’s not looking. Biting the inside of your cheek. Folding laundry without speaking. That’s how he knows it’s gotten to you.

At first, he tries to laugh it off,

“You think I’d go for her? Christ, she’s not even funny.” But then he sees your face fall just slightly, and he gets serious real fast.

“Look, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not bloody stupid. I wouldn’t toss this” he gestures between you two “just for a daft party flirt. You know me better’n that.”

He proves it. Reads you lines from his songs in that dramatic fake-Shakespeare voice

(“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s giggle, luv”)

Follows you around the flat strumming nonsense love songs until you smile.

“You want proof?” he finally says, softer. “I talk about you to everyone. Paul’s sick of hearin’ your name, swear it.”

𓆩🕊️ paul 𓆪

"C'mon, love. That's not even my shoulder!"

Paul is devastated that the media would even suggest something like that.

The article has a grainy photo of someone who vaguely looks like him walking into a hotel with a girl, but it’s not him.

The hair’s wrong. The coat’s not his. The smile isn’t even close to being yours.

You don’t even bring it up, but Paul notices you’ve stopped humming his songs around the house. That’s enough to panic him.

He comes straight home with every receipt ever.

Swears he’ll call the bloody photographer if he has to.

He takes your face in his hands and says, voice thick, “Don’t let this rot get in your head, sweetheart. I love you. Only you. Always have, always will.”

Keeps proving it in little ways: he writes your initials in the margins of his notebook, takes you to the studio just to kiss you between takes.

He goes all out. Flowers, your favorite kind, hand-picked. A note tucked into each one, little scribbled things.

𓆩🕊️ george 𓆪

"Can’t stop ‘em printing lies. But I can show you what’s true."

The paper’s cruel.

Says George’s been “getting cozy” with some socialite at a club.

You weren’t even in town that night. You don’t ask, but George sees the shift, less eye contact, slightly less affection.

He doesn’t know how to say it at first. But it eats him up that you might think for even a second he’d choose someone else.

Comes into the kitchen one morning and just wraps his arms round your waist from behind, murmurs, “Y’don’t believe it, do you?”

When you hesitate, his arms tighten. “No. No, don’t do that. That’s what they want. It’s all rubbish, love. Every word.”

He proves it with his quiet devotion: he skips after-parties to be home with you.

He gives you his guitar when he’s writing.

He tucks your scarf into his coat pocket and calls it his good luck charm.

One night, you find a folded bit of paper in your coat, lyrics he wrote but never showed anyone. Scrawled at the bottom:

“You’re the only voice I hear through all the noise.”

He doesn’t say much. But when he kisses you that night, his hands trembling a little where they hold your face, you know.

𓆩🕊️ ringo 𓆪

“I don’t care what the papers say. You’re the only one I want comin’ home to.”

Ringo gets hit with a nasty one.

Claims he’s been “secretly meeting” a woman he dated years ago before fame. Total lie, but it rattles you.

He finds you reading it at the kitchen table. Frowns immediately.

“Don’t believe that rot, do you?”

You don’t answer right away. He gets real quiet, then pulls out a chair and sits beside you, knees touching yours.

“You know me,” he says softly. “I’m not slick. I’m not some silver-tongued fella sneakin’ round in the night. I’d never do that to you.”

You still look unsure, so he pulls out the box. The one he’s been hiding in the closet. Inside: a little ring he’s had made for you, engraved with your initials.

“Was savin’ this for later. But I think you need to see it now.”

“Y’know how I prove it’s false?” he adds, “’Cause I’ve been plannin’ forever with you, not anyone else. That’s real.”

He makes you your favorite tea. Writes you a silly poem that rhymes “cupboard” with “loved bird.”

He even calls up Brian and has him verify where he was the night the photo was supposedly taken.

He makes sure you know how loved you are, cuddling into your side when he watches telly, dancing with you in the kitchen to jazz records, introducing you proudly as “my better half.”

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee