#i missed friends and dinners and friend's plays and world pride events

[silveredsound]

x

[1kook]

right place, wrong time

— a someway, somehow jungkook drabble summary Home was Jungkook, it had always been Jungkook… but it wasn’t this Jungkook. warnings angst, heart ache, its actually kinda sad :/ lmfao, jk is a little... uh... como se dice.... jerk without realizing it.... justice for oc.... also there’s a scene where oc throws up so !! rating m wc 1.5k

notes THIS TAKES PLACE 5 YEARS BEFORE SWSH ITSELF ! OK ! enjoy <3 i wanted to try writing angst again <3 also i have no self control i said i would post this in 7 hrs yet here i am. and its not proofread <_<

When you were kids, the fact Jungkook’s birthday fell early on into the school year was a huge deal; everyone in your class was invited, both new and returning students, and the event itself was practically the opening scene to the school year itself. As you got older and he began to move away from colorfully decorated parties, his early birthday still earned him a lot of attention, had everyone at your high school congratulating him from the moment the first bell rang until the last. There weren’t any grand birthday bashes during high school, but the Jeons were a loving family, party or no party, and always got him a cake to celebrate each new year. 

Up until you left for college, you had never missed Jungkook blowing out the candles for his birthday. Be it a backyard party bustling with kids or a smaller affair at his favorite restaurant, you had always been invited, always cheered for him with each new year of life he welcomed. 

As a kid, you had always been adamant on getting the spot closest to him as you sang happy birthday, beaming at your best friend like he was your entire world. His childhood photo albums had been proof of that, filled with a chronological sequencing of every birthday he’s had with you at his side, your smiles changing with the times— from missing teeth to full of braces, you had always been at Jungkook’s side. 

As a young-adult, you had to bite down your pride and watch Sojin fulfill that spot. 

You had missed his last two birthdays since entering college. Your first year away from home, everyone you knew warned you about not going home too early into the year, something about how it would solidify your homesickness and you’d never be able to assimilate afterwards. So you had congratulated Jungkook from Taehyung’s phone screen, greatly appreciating the way Taehyung angled the phone away from Sojin as best he could. Then your second year, you had been drowning in that first wave of projects and essays, and simply couldn’t squeeze a five hour drive there and back into your schedule. Jungkook understood; there was no party this year, just a simple family dinner. The video call ended soon after you congratulated him, his attention drawn away by the voice of another woman you knew all too well. 

For his twenty-first birthday, Jungkook was adamant that you attend. He had told you about it before you had left for the new semester, bent over by the front wheels of your car, making sure everything was in tip-top shape before you went off again. His t-shirt was drenched in sweat, trails running down his hairline, over the prominent veins of his neck.“I want you there,” Jungkook had said, taking your offered hand as he stood back up. He must have miscalculated— or maybe it was on purpose —his step, because when he stepped forward, he was all too close. He didn’t let go of your hand. “Please?” 

Your eyes flickered over his chest, to his neck. He smelled like home, or at least the image of it you had created in your mind during your last two years away. Home was lavender fabric softener billowing over you in waves, the faint traces of this morning’s cologne, the subtle scent of his metallic work tools. It was his chocolate curls tickling his eyebrows, his easygoing smile, the way he pulled you closer, made the scents wash over you all over again. 

It was Jungkook. It was Jungkook. It was Jungkook and his warm touch. It was Jungkook and his softened gaze. Home was Jungkook, it had always been Jungkook… but it wasn’t this Jungkook. It wasn’t this Jungkook and the hickey on his neck. 

The sight made your stomach recoil, eyes quickly averted from the site of the crime. He had gotten here later than usual, said something about having to take Sojin somewhere first. So that’s what that meant. Jungkook, unaware of the fact the collar of his t-shirt has let you in on his private life, squeezes your hand. “You’ll come, won’t you?” 

And you were stupid and you were in love, so of course you said yes. 

It’s a cookout this year, his backyard filled to the brim with relatives and friends and so many cans of beer you don’t know what to do. His parents are ecstatic for your return, babbling on and on about how much he missed you for the last two birthdays. You take it in stride, and maybe in a different timeline you would have believed it, but not this one. Aside from greeting you at the door and taking your keys off your hands, you had barely seen the birthday boy all day. You mingle with old friends, his relatives, tentatively sip at your can of soda. You’re tired, the long drive having sapped the majority of your energy for the day. 

Sometime around sunset, you meet eyes with him across the yard. Jungkook smiles, he always smiles. You okay? he mimes with a thumbs-up, and you want to say yes, but Sojin is sitting on his lap, an obnoxiously loud display, and when he puts his hand back down, it immediately finds its home on her thigh. You send him a half-hearted shrug, play it off like you're still a little carsick from the long drive here. 

(Truthfully, you are sick, but you’re not sure it’s from the drive.) 

Even at twenty-one, his family maintains their tradition and sings him happy birthday. With your return, his mother delegates you to cake cutting duties again, so you’re on standby for the song, at his side with the cake cutter in hand. Jungkook is grinning from ear to ear, Sojin attached to his hip, his arm sling around her shoulders. His family sings and sings, and Jungkook is happy. His eyes jump around the table, taking in the sight before him the way he does every year. And when they reach you at his side, Jungkook beams, reaches for your hand beneath the table and squeezes, all the while keeping his girlfriend closely hugged to his other side. 

You cut the cake. Sojin gets her slice and promptly whisks Jungkook away. 

By ten pm, you find yourself in his upstairs bathroom puking your guts out. It’s the carsickness, you tell yourself, or maybe the cake frosting, throat gagging around nothing, tears clinging to your lash line. But is it really?

“__?” someone says, and you make a weak attempt to turn towards the door. You don’t know what you expected— had you actually wanted Jungkook to find you in this sorry state? —but it isn’t Jungkook. “Shit, what happened?” Taehyung worries, hurrying to your aid. And you’re grateful that there’s someone here to help you, to save you from yourself and your stupid, heartbroken thoughts. But it’s not the man you want it to be, and that has you squeezing your eyes shut tightly, until the mascara on your lashes imprints itself against your under eyes instead. 

The man you want bumps into you downstairs, catches Taehyung helping you into the spare bedroom to lie down. “__?” Jungkook calls out, eyes big and scared. “Where— what’s going on?” he asks, thrusting his plate into Sojin’s hands before rushing to your side. He grabs your forearm, and the touch burns, so you yank yourself away. 

Faintly, you hear Taehyung explain. “She’s sick,” he says, pulling you closer. “She’s been out of it since she first got here. I think it was the long drive.” Yes, it was the long drive, you agree. 

Jungkook, unfazed by your first recoil, reaches for your arm again. “I’ve got her,” he tells Taehyung, underestimating his strength when he tugs you closer, has you stumbling into his chest. His rough handling makes your stomach tighten, your head feel dizzy. 

“Jungkook,” you gasp, hand on his chest. “Wait— I’m—“ And he’s trying to move you back up the stairs, probably into his bedroom to lie down. But the sight of the stairs and his overwhelming scent and the hickey on his neck, the hickey Sojin left on his neck, makes you nauseous all over again. 

Taehyung yelps in your defense. “Jungkook,” he scolds, carefully maneuvering you out of Jungkook’s harm’s way. “You’re making it worse.” 

From a few feet away, Sojin calls out his name. “Jungkook?” she says and her voice is so sweet, yet so sticky; it makes you gag. “Baby, they’re calling for you outside.” 

And everyone is saying his name, so he doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know who to prioritize, not when everyone wants his attention. He looks at you, and your heart soars for a millisecond. Then it plummets when he settles on Sojin instead. “I— you’re right, Tae,” he sighs, backing off, letting go. “You got __, right?” Taehyung nods. “Call me if anything happens.”

And he leaves, slips his hand around Sojin’s waist and guides her out the door. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even tell you to get better soon. He just leaves. 

Taehyung lays you down, doesn’t say a word when you start crying because he probably thinks it’s about your stomach and the vomiting. “It’s okay,” he soothes, helping you out of your shoes. “Does it hurt?”

Yes, you sob. It hurts very badly.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[alienaiver]

Half the Battle, pt. 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

find part two here!

warnings: slight angst about childhood/parents fighting/divorce, one (1) bottle of wine is opened, someone is betrayed in Mario Party, NOT beta-read! apologize for any mistakes! (lmk if there’s any warnings i missed!)

wordcount: 5.5k

content: soulmate AU, mild angst, fluff, post-timeskip but slight canon divergence (i haven’t read the manga yet so this is loosely based off of their canon timeskip lives), gender neutral reader, reader is a video editor, reader is bad at eye contact but the details as to why are vague/up for interpretation!

notes: this was made for @gg9183 ​ ‘s wonderful birthday event, a soulmate collab! (go read the other wonderful works!) happy birthday once again, gray!! this was meant to be a 2k one shot but.... plans and inspiration changes sometimes, right? 🥺 so this ended up as a 5k part ONE lmfao i hope thats alright w u!!! part2 will be up asap, i promise!! i hope you enjoy this!!!! 

—————————

Not meeting his soulmate was fine, Kuroo often found himself thinking. The odds of finding your soulmate’s way too low to be realistic anyways, he supported the thought. It’s illogical to spend so much time fretting about it, he finally added for good measure.

Soulmates were a natural part of life, always had been. But with the big wide world filled with over seven billion people, meeting yours wasn’t completely unheard of. But given the powers of soulmates even existing, it wasn’t unrealistic to also believe that some kind of fate would pull you towards each other throughout your lives so that you would meet each other. Kuroo however, prided himself in not caring about soulmates. His life was rich enough. People explaining their feelings about “something being missing until they finally meet them” was incomprehensible to him.

Kuroo had lived for 29 years without being able to see color. And you know what? His life was damn well fulfilling enough. He had a beautiful apartment, an economy that flourished, an adorable cat named Cucumber and good people around him. What would he really need a soulmate for? He could ignore his friends comments on how wonderful the world was in color, if only he would just start looking for his soulmate, how much meaning it gave life. Just because the people in his closest circle had all magically met theirs – not to mention how many of them had already met in Goddamn high school, Kuroo scoffed and was always able to move on.

Even though a lot of people actively made eye contact with everyone they met, even people on the street, to make sure they would meet their soulmate, Kuroo kept his eyes down. He wasn’t insecure, come on, he was perfectly happy! He just didn’t need to be late for a meeting because he got eye contact with some stranger, you know?

His life was in perfect balance as is.. Until yesterday, of course. It had turned out there was mold in his apartment complex so they had to evict it for a month while a crew would go through everything to remove it. He didn’t want to go to his mother’s place, that was too far from his work, but he wasn’t in the mood for a hotel, that was way too expensive, so he turned to his best friend of many years with the biggest set of puppy eyes he could muster and the prospect of making every dinner while he lived there.

“Fine… but don’t get in the way,” was all Kenma had to say.

And so Kuroo spent his last weekend in his own apartment packing things down to make it accessible to the cleaning crew. Cucumber hated other cats with a passion so he couldn’t bring him to Kenma’s, where three cats already happily lived, so his mother would pick him up tomorrow afternoon.

__

He sat on his couch, scrolling his phone mindlessly with Cucumber on his lap who had been stressed with all the packing down, sensing something was up. He was being extra cuddly towards Kuroo who, honestly? Didn’t mind at all. He loved when Cucumber was in mood for cuddles, though it wasn’t very often. He had been told his cat was orange and while he didn’t have a measure for what that color actually looked like, he was happy with his gray cat.

His mother was supposed to arrive any minute now, so he should have gotten up and put the cat in his carrier but it was easier to get him in it if you had two pair of hands. He scrolled through Instagram, reaching a photo put up by Tsukishima of his soulmate, the light-haired manager of their high school volleyball club, with a tooth-eating grin on her face and proudly showing off a ring on her finger, the caption said, This smile makes me wanna brag. Kuroo could physically hear the provocative tone of his voice, knowing he was one of the first in his circle of friends to actually plan a wedding. Kuroo clicked his tongue with a smile on his face and double-tapped to like the picture.

He didn’t know if it was the combination of that post and the fact that his mother was on her way but memories of his parent’s wedding flooded his mind. For a lot of people, weddings felt obsolete in the face of the whole “you already got your soulmate and you know this” thing, so a lot of couples were happy not getting married but just being together. But there was also the benefits of marriage in the practical sense, so some people did anyways, some hosting parties, some not. His parents weren’t married when he came to, but after he turned five they decided to do it so he would be protected by both of them, in case of any emergency.

It had been a small wedding, only the closest family and friends but Kuroo was vivid, so excited about being part of that whole romantic ordeal, even helping his mom find a dress and everything. He had been a huge and important part of the wedding – if he did say so himself. Everyone had been glowing at the day, the food was delicious, there was laughter, song and cheers and everyone had brought so many presents – even some for little Tetsurou, who had been very excited about his new train tracks.

But when Kuroo was seven years old, it wasn’t as romantic anymore. His parents were fighting a lot, he wasn’t entirely sure why or about what because they would never tell him about it, no matter how much he asked. When he tried to listen in, the words he heard didn’t explain anything to him because even though they were yelling at each other, the important words were always whispered, as if they knew Kuroo was listening in.

When he was eight his mom had come into his room, hugged him and with tears in her eyes and said that they were going to move away.

“Where are we going?” he asked simply, no emotion to be read on his little face. He was exhausted from his parents being this way – they were soulmates, right? Why did they fight like that?

“To Tokyo, just you and me, my love.”

That’s when he met Kenma. He had been very closed-off and shy back when they met, he reminisced. He had been a regular kid when he was younger but the way his parents split up – his soulmate parents – had closed him off pretty bad, so it was a miracle he met Kenma and started opening up again.

Kuroo smiled to himself bitterly before scratching Cucumber’s ear. He supposed this was also why he wasn’t interested in his soulmate. So many people had romanticized the whole soulmate ideal so a lot of people forgot that relationships still took work, took effort and just because they were made for each other, didn’t necessarily guarantee that they would stay together. His mom and dad didn’t officially talk anymore, but when he asked his mom as a child whether or not she still saw color, she said that she did. He also found long letters in her bedroom when he was nine, letters from his dad, so he supposed they still talked together, though Kuroo wasn’t let in on it – nor was he particularly interested. And he definitely we wasn’t interested in ending up in a relationship with someone who would end up not wanting to put in the effort for the relationship to flourish.

After Cucumber had been picked up by his mom it was time to leave for Kenma’s place. He carried the last boxes of valuables down to his basement and locked them in before trekking down to the subway with his suitcase and sports bag.

_____

You were late for work, so you scrambled to pack your things. It was Wednesday afternoon and you were supposed to meet in at 3PM, because that was around the time that Kodzuken had planned to finish his recording, he told you yesterday. You were a video editor and had met Kenma through your old part-time job in his favorite convenience store quite a few years back, back when he had first bought his house when he was 24. You remembered talking to him about video games in the store since you also played some, and after a good while of polite customer service and talk about new games, you had started hanging out outside of work as well. When you had then told him you were actually a freelance video editor but just didn’t get many jobs, he had almost instantly hired you to do his YouTube videos for him and general editing and set-ups of his streams. I know video games, not recording equipment, he had told you so many years ago.

Your original thought had been wary, because working for a friend might get messy but Kenma cared a lot about keeping it professional when you were on the clock, which you appreciated very much. In his house, down by his game room, there was a room next door with screens and all the best editing software just for you to play with. Your pay was higher than average for such a “simple” but regular gig but when prompted about it, he simply shrugged and told you it wasn’t up for negotiation and no one was being treated unfair – and who were you to go against such a good pay for a job that you loved doing and wanted to do full-time? With Kenma being a famous streamer and gamer, he often made lots of different videos for various sites so your job hours resembled a nine to five job, easy, even if the hours were off from the more conventional jobs and you usually came in later in the day and sometimes finished off late in the evening – some of his videos had a time limit for a release date of a game, so there was also days where you were extremely busy and scrambling to get the video done right for a release of a game.

As you closed your bag and ran out the door towards the subway, you checked your phone for any updates. If he’d finished early, he would’ve texted you about it, so you put your phone in your pocket and hurried towards his house.

When you arrived you immediately rang the doorbell before catching your breath, you were used to Kenma spending a few minutes before reaching the door and opening it, so when the door opened almost instantly you took a step back before looking up. The one opening the door was taller than Kenma and in a loose dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top - that’s all you saw before your eyes darted down to your feet.

“...Hi! I’m uh… Where’s Kenma?” was all you got out while fidgeting with your purse strap, it certainly wasn’t his boyfriend Hinata opening the door today.

“Oh, hey! You must be his video editor, right? He told me about you!” The man said, pointing to himself with his thumb,

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou! Kenma’s childhood friend! Sorry to intrude, I’ll be living here for the next month, I promise not to get in your way!” As he finished his introduction, he moved aside so that you could enter. As you took off your shoes you heard Kenma’s feet shuffling towards you, “oh hey, welcome, you’re early,” Kenma said with his usual deadpan expression but you could clearly hear the teasing in his voice.

“At least I’m here now, right?” You smiled back, instantly relaxing at the sight of your boss and friend. You turned to Kuroo again, bowed and introduced yourself before taking off your coat and putting it on a hanger, while Kenma and the guy named Kuroo seemed to bicker a bit about whether or not Kuroo should answer the door while he lived there.

“I’ll go set it up, have you transferred the video files to the hard disk?” you asked Kenma as you moved towards ‘your’ office, sending Kuroo a polite smile while keeping your eyes on his neck.

Eye contact was hard for you, it always made you extremely uncomfortable and you didn’t really have any before you felt comfortable with the person. Your mother had often scolded you, saying you’d never find your soulmate at this rate, which you always acknowledged with a hum or a simple yes without starting a discussion.

You honestly weren’t sure whether or not you cared for a soulmate. Your biggest argument to wanting to find one was so that you could see colors, because it’d help your career. Kenma already had his soulmate, so he was the one deciding the color scheme for his videos and helped with the color-related editing, which worked fine as of now, but you would probably appreciate to be able to do it yourself. You had also spent some years coming to terms with your struggles with eye contact and accept that this was just how you functioned. If you missed your soulmate in a random supermarket thanks to it one day, well, you’d be none the wiser, so you felt sure you’d survive without one, but you also couldn’t deny that the sound of a soulmate sounded really nice and comforting. That someone out there existed to fit you, that you were born to love someone who was also meant to love you. You were sure that finding your soulmate wasn’t a dance on roses, it was sure to still be hard, frustrating and maybe even painful sometimes, but you also couldn’t just have all the good, there was a balance that was sure to exist within soulmates as well.

After hours of going through the raw footage from his video game play and slowly editing while watching it, you popped your shoulders and stretched your arms for a moment, yawning as you did so. Your hours were always a bit intense, but that couldn’t be helped when you had six hours of raw footage to work with. Looking at the clock you saw that it was 5.30PM which meant that soon Kenma would wake up from his pseudo-sleep (which was more like a nap in your opinion) to look at your process and ask what you wanted for dinner.

Soon after a soft knock was heard followed by the door opening slowly, Kenma standing in sweats and a hoodie with bags under his eyes, “do you like hotpot?” he asked, and you smiled at him, “sure, are you cooking tonight?” he yawned while he shook his head, “Kuroo is. He insists on a ‘fulfilling meal’, whatever that means.”

You giggled before beckoning Kenma in to see some of what you’ve done so far and making minor adjustments along the way. “Now, something smells delicious and I’m thirsty,” you stated after the two of you had talked a bit about the rest of the video’s plans. As you went towards the kitchen you could hear the sound of of a nameless tune being hummed, pans sizzling from something being cooked and kitchen utensils being used.

Inside, the table was already set with plates and prepared ingredients lying ready for the pot that Kuroo was just about to put on the table. It seemed he had made an endless supply of different side dishes and really put in a lot of work for it, so you looked really forward to eating it and it smelled delicious. You grabbed a glass from the set table and went to the sink to get some water and just as your hand reached it, Kuroo had extended his hand as well to the sink and you accidentally touched.

You both recoiled as if you had been burned and you couldn’t stop the gasp that accidentally left your lips. A feeling was rushing through your body you hadn’t experienced before and you immediately apologized to Kuroo and went back to the table, foregoing the water. You didn’t notice how Kuroo was frozen in place from when he touched you before Kenma called out to him and he immediately started moving again.

You ended up eating shortly after, Kuroo serving the food and talking animatedly about him and Kenma’s childhood, making you laugh quite a bit at their (or more, Kuroo’s) antics and their volleyball days. Kuroo was the type of person to make you relax in his presence and have fun which you didn’t even notice until you got home later that evening and really thought about what a great time you had had. You found yourself surprised by how easily you clicked with Kuroo, a total stranger. It must be his charm, you thought to yourself before going through your night routine. You had to come back tomorrow and finish work, after all. You estimated the video would take you a few more days to finish but that would end up fitting well with the weekend coming, so as you went to bed you felt yourself more relaxed than you had in a while.

_____

“What are they like?”

It was Friday and it seemed you had finished Kenma’s video and therefor you weren’t here for dinner – for the first time in a few days, which did let down Kuroo just a tiny bit. He had talked a lot with you during dinner preparations when you came out from the office and during dinner as well and while you did answer all his questions (which, he admitted, there were quite a few of them) and follow up with your own for him, it still felt… off… talking to you – and Kuroo didn’t like not knowing why. “What do you mean?” Kenma asked, taking another bite into his mouth.

Kenma swallowed a piece of meat before looking up at Kuroo who was stabbing his plate with his fork in what seemed like a useless purpose. He knew he was being a little weird but meeting you was weird, even though he had no reason to explain why.

“I mean, is this how they usually act?” He didn’t even know what that question meant or why he was even asking it, nothing made sense! But he had a desperate feeling that he needed to get to know you – he was afraid of what that implied and what suspicions he needed to hold onto, but he was sure it was his gut telling him you were dangerous for Kenma to be around – that had to be it! Kenma was his best friend, his childhood friend, it had to be a gut feeling meant to protect him!

“Who knows, they’re being more polite than usual, I think. But that makes sense,” Kenma replied calmly before adding, “I mean you are a stranger who’s really intent on being social with them over our dinners, they were a bit shy as well when I met them,”

Kuroo nodded and finally took a bite of his own food. He didn’t notice Kenma’s raised eyebrows or the questioning look that was sent his way, so Kenma decided to let the subject rest.

Not seeing you today felt weird to him too and he couldn’t help the irritation building up inside him – you had just met a few days ago and only in the evenings when he was done with work and ready to make dinner – and yet, the thought of you kept invading his mind. He had gotten through work today thinking you were going to be there for dinner so when he came home and found out you wouldn’t be there, the first seed of irritation had been planted – why was he suddenly looking so much forward to seeing you? Had it been like this yesterday too? Why was it suddenly important that you weren’t there? He ended up sitting in front of the laptop in the guest room for the rest of the evening, the document left open and completely untouched.

Kuroo, however, didn’t let the subject rest in his head for the rest of that evening. Hinata was in town, having time off after a big game yesterday so Kuroo was left to his own devices – which really wasn’t a problem considering he had to make the paperwork for a promotional deal for a meeting Monday morning that he had procrastinated making – which wasn’t like him at all, he usually never pushed assignments to last minute and he then realized the reason he wasn’t done yet was because he had spent so much time over the dinner table with Kenma and you, talking even after dinner had been done for a while. You always offered to help him with the clean-up so you also spent some time talking there, drifting off to various subjects far passing the cleaning duties and sitting down again with a glass of water.

He enjoyed your company, it felt... easy, somehow, the sensation that something was off was there but it didn’t really settle in his stomach until every time after you left, as if it was left to grow a bit from a small sensation to a problem, which worried him – Kuroo prided himself as an impeccable people-reader, he was captain for both the volleyball team in high school and college, he knew how to act around business relations so well because he could read them so flawlessly – so the feelings he got from you was unsettling and unreadable and it took some control away from him – and Kuroo always felt uneasy when he wasn’t in control.

____

Kuroo heard your name and almost got whiplash from how fast his head moved towards Kenma, “what?”

“I asked if we should invite them? To game night? Being three is a little annoying in Mario Party.”

“Oooh, that’s a good idea! I’d love to see them again!” Hinata happily exclaimed before taking another bite of the lasagna Kuroo had prepared tonight. It was Saturday and Kuroo had been in a daze the entire day, first at the office for a quick meeting with his boss about a potential partner he might be able to reel in soon and then doing his laundry at Kenma’s and continuing to try and make the stupid paperwork but ultimately failing before he had to make dinner.

“Isn’t it a bit late to invite someone? I mean, they could have plans already...” Kuroo tried, knowing what a pain it could be to be asked to something an hour before it happened and he didn’t want to let you go through that – that’s what he tried to tell himself, at least. In truth? He was a bit afraid of seeing you again, afraid of his potential reactions, since he had spent his entire Friday in a stupor just thinking about you. His thoughts didn’t mean much for Kenma and Hinata though, who was already texting you to ask.  “Oi, no phones at the table, have you parents taught you no manners?” Kuroo chided and Hinata immediately shrank back and apologized – Kuroo smirked, yea the Chibi-chan still had respect for his seniors. But he was quickly pulled back to thoughts about you by Kenma’s phone lighting up again, “they’ll be here in an hour. They’re asking if they should bring anything?” Kenma looked up to gauge Kuroo’s reaction, having noticed something about his friend had been off the past few days. He immediately made a funny grimace before turning it into a smile. “Yea, they can bring a bottle of white wine, if I have to beat you all at Mario Party, I would very much like to be a tiny bit buzzed,” Kuroo said, and Hinata looked at him with wide eyes, “you drink wine!? So grown up!” Hinata exclaimed, to which Kenma just muttered, “or just an old man…” Kuroo didn’t hear that though, too busy to fidget with his hands under the table, suddenly feeling nervous that you were showing up.

Hinata plopped down between Kuroo and you with a controller in hand, “I’m gonna beat you all in this Mario Kart!” to which you laughed loudly, “good luck since we’re playing Mario Party.”

“Huh? Is there a difference?” Hinata asked, making Kuroo belt out a loud laugh as well, holding his stomach, “you just told us you’d beat us but you don’t even know what we’re playing!” Kuroo couldn’t contain his laughter for a bit until he noticed how you were looking at him and instantly retracted his laugh, sitting up straight with a cough, and apologizing for being loud, which confused him to no end. He had never been self-conscious of his own laugh! He knew it could be obnoxious and loud, but he also liked it himself, and-

“That’s a really cute laugh.”

The comment earned you the stares of the century from the three other people in the room, with Kenma in genuine shock – he wouldn’t say he disliked Kuroo’s laugh, just that it was… special.

“Uhm… Uh. Thank you?” Kuroo could feel that his blush went all the way to his ears but he hoped that the light in the living room wasn’t bright enough to catch it. “Yeah uh! Sure! Mhm,” you awkwardly coughed a bit as well before reaching for your glass of wine.

You had brought a bottle of white wine for Kuroo on the promise that you’d get a glass too, saying he was your first friend who also liked wine. The word ‘friend’ had dumb-founded him and he’d just answered “you can have it all,” to which you had laughed and said it’s fine with half, you weirdo.

The game was about to begin but Kuroo was still sitting stuck on the fact that his laugh was cute – cute? Had anyone else found it cute before besides Bokuto and his mom? He wasn’t sure – he sure couldn’t pinpoint them right now anyways. He tried to shake it off and focus on the game, though quite a bit of time was spent explaining the rules to Hinata who apparently had thought they were just playing Mario Kart.

When you were 12 laps into it, it seemed that you were set to win with your four stars and 121 coins. Kenma was right behind you with three stars and Hinata and Kuroo had been left in the dust with zero stars. You had stolen Kuroo’s first (and only) star early in the game, so he was plotting his vengeance in quiet but was getting afraid that the game would end before he could do anything to you – but just as his hopes were at the smallest during the last round of the game, you were put in the same team as him in the last mini game.

Kuroo had a wide smirk when you cheered and said, “this’ll be easy then!” because no, it would not be easy for you. If he had to go down in order to take you down a notch, then so be it. He’d rather Kenma win than you did with stolen goods!

The last mini game was “Tow the Line” where two players were put in a sewing box shaped with nine dots as a grid and two players tied together with a string and the objective was to make the shape with the string as shown in the middle of screen. As soon as the whistle sounded, Kuroo lowered his hands and stopped using his controllers, all with a big grin on his lips.

“Kuroo, what the fuck! Get moving, we’ve started!” you yelled at him as Kenma and Hinata won the first round, signaling the next round began, Kuroo started whistling and looking away from the screen, to which you got up from your seat, “fine, I’ll just take your controller and do it myself!”

Kuroo put his arm with the controller behind him, “nah-ah-ah! You’re not winning this, fiend! That’s what you get for stealing my star!” He grinned up at you with his eyes closed as you stood with your hands on your hips, “come on man! I stole that star in the fourth round! Kenma stole a star from me as well!” you tried, “maybe he stole the one that was yours, who knows! Get over it so we can win!”

But as soon as you’d said that, the third round had just been won and you sighed and flopped down on your seat again, “not cool Kuroo, not cool. I’ll remember this!”

You both laughed as the game made ready to announce the winner, Kenma and Hinata entertained by your antics.

“You can’t avenge something that I avenged in the first place! I only did it because you did me wrong, you know!”

“You can’t use logic on me, it doesn’t apply!”

To no surprise, you won the entire game, even winning one of the two bonus stars given at the end of the game.

After the last sequence and a bow from you there was a quick break before you decided to play some Mario Kart for Hinata’s sake, since his argument was that he lost due it being Party instead. You played quite a few hours and after another toilet break you had switched places with Hinata so Kenma could cuddle up against him. You yawned, drinking the last of the wine in your glass and said, “I should head home, I have a friend coming over for lunch tomorrow.”

Hinata and Kenma both started to get up to say goodnight but you waved at them with a smile, “I can walk out myself, it’s fine!” But Kuroo had already gotten up from the couch as well, so you walked with him towards the hallway where you put on your shoes. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, which Kuroo noted and scowled a bit - he might have only known you for less than a week but for some reason he felt like it had been a lot longer, like you were old friends – it felt strange, to be so close with a stranger. He didn’t know anything about you, really. He knew your name, your job and how you liked some of your vegetables and which meat was your favorite, he knew you also loved cats but didn’t have one (he couldn’t remember if he knew why) and he felt pretty sure he would recognize you in a crowded area – why it was so intense, he was unsure of, he hadn’t tried meeting someone this way before. It had also seemed like having this game night had made you considerably more relaxed in his presence, even joking around with him instead of being polite, which made Kuroo somewhat giddy, though it didn’t really make sense to him as to why.

“I hope you had fun,” Kuroo said awkwardly, as if he had been the host and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I did! I’m sorry I stole your star, though,” you laughed, buttoning your jacket.

“Nah, no worries, as they say, all’s fair in love and war, right?”

You giggled and picked up your bag from the dresser while Kuroo opened up the door for you. As you exited, you turned around with a bright smile, “well, thanks for toni-”

Everything ended up a blur, too bright, too much, too noisy, too… colorful? Kuroo was still looking into your eyes as all that went through him, completely blindsided. As he took a proper look, he could see that you looked just as surprised as him, your eyes wide but still never leaving his either.

“Is… Is this? Are you? Is…” You asked after what felt like both days and milliseconds, I could stare at them so much longer, he thought to himself, the colors only making your face more clear to him. Had you really not had eye contact at all? Had you seen each other for several hours – more than a few times, without looking each other in the eyes at all? Kuroo was more baffled by this happening so late than the fact that it was happening.

He was about to say something, anything, when you promptly turned around, nervously yelling, “I-I uh, I gotta go! Goodbye!” as you hurried out of the driveway and down towards the subway.

“W-wait!” Kuroo belatedly and unhelpfully yelled out as you turned a corner, too late. You were gone. A hand was dragged down his face as a sigh left him, what the fuck had just happened? He obviously needed to talk to you about this, but he also needed to gather his thoughts about all of this, so he slowly closed the door and went back towards the living room, greeted by Hinata and Kenma who looked up at him curiously, “why did you yell?” Hinata asked with his head tilted.

“I think I just found my soulmate.”

[ohheyitsokay]

home

part 10 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco (Frankie, Catfish) Morales x reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: so so soo much fluff. clouds and clouds worth. kissing, implications of sex (blink and you’ll miss it)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, you and Frankie finish the season and the summer, and know it’s only the beginning.

notes: thank you all so much for supporting this little story of mine! I genuinely am blown away by how kind everyone has been! originally I planned on this series just being a couple of one-shots set in the same universe, but it got away form me, and I can’t believe so many of you came along for the ride. some of those stories will come in time, but thank you thank you thank you to everyone who stuck around this long! all the love for all of you!

>>

It was a beautiful day for a baseball game.

The sun was shining and for once your bones weren’t shaking with the rumble of the stadium as people stomped and cheered. In fact, the majority of the noise was from Frankie’s momma as she chattered across your lap to your grandfather. The two of them were discussing gardening and how well season was played, how proud they were, the best of friends. It was peaceful, almost, and most of the flashing lights and roaring crowds were away – it was the final game, a charity fundraiser, all fun.

You could see your catcher as he turned, looking at your section like he couldn’t help but search for you, and you smiled, heart as full and as warm as the sun on your shoulders. His curls were sticking out from under his helmet haphazardly, the pads on his shoulders and thighs making him even more solid, and it was a sight that you’d never get tired of. Combined with the smells of warm pastries, jalapeños and melted cheese, contentment settled into your soul like a hand in a glove, a perfect fit.

It was the of the ninth and they were playing well, encouraged by the cause and playing for the love of of the game instead of a paycheck. Behind you, you heard someone mention just how well Frankie had batted this season, and you brushed pan dulce sugar from your lap.

The players had told you last week after all the big games were done why Santi had offered to pay for you and James to fly to see their final games. At the time, it had baffled you how intensely they insisted, how eagerly the pushed it, and how your boyfriend had looked equal parts embarrassed and hopeful, but eventually you agreed, assuming you could get the time off from work. When the secret came out you laughed, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

They had exchanged smiles and shrugged and shared knowing glances as they let you explain away what they knew was true. You were their luck.

The thought was long gone from your mind now though, as Ben was doing weird poses on the field, and you heard chuckles ripple through the crowds. Fans of him and the team alike were endlessly charmed, and you knew you’d catch comments about it for months to come. His brother was just standing, and still you heard dreamy sighs of Will’s name, and made a mental note to tease him after the game about his “blonde halo”. Whatever that meant.

Santi threw a perfect curveball, and when it landed firmly in Frankie’s glove, you heard a girl swoon, “That’s my man!” and the laughter of her friends, as they called her “Mrs. Morales”.

“No!” his momma was glaring over her shoulder tugging on your elbow, as if physically fighting them was a viable option. You tugged back, making soothing noises as she protested, “Mi frijol.” The sweet lady muttered something else and before your heart could latch on to what you could’ve sworn was something about the future and tu marido you moved on.

“I know, I know,” you were saying, when James leaned over, glint in his sweet, aging eyes.

“She’s right, honey,” he said, only encouraging his friend, and you grinned.

“He’s my boy,” she said again with an air of finality, “and yours."

Looking at your grandfather sheepishly, you pointed at your shirt and shrugged as he said, “Right again.”

You were wearing his backup Jersey.

Cheesy as it was, it felt good to have the little claim of his over your skin, and while it wasn’t obvious to everyone, you wore it with pride. Comments from his fans slid off it like raindrops on a tin roof, and while you apricated her inclusion, you didn’t need it to know he was yours, as you were his.

Jimbo leaned towards the woman at your side and whispered conspiratorially in her ear, and she settled, and you left it, enjoying their friendship. The day was too lovely for anything else, anyway.

Catch, catch, walk, look for his girlfriend, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat.

Nothing so eventful happened the last few minutes of the game, and as the Will went out for his final bat, you felt a surprising wave of bittersweet nostalgia for all that had passed since the opening game, cold as an evening breeze.

Then the ball cracked against the bat, and the sound snapped you back, and you felt a fire under your breastbone, reminding you the best was yet to come.

Frankie’s mom finished her final cheers enthusiastically, all annoyance long gone, and she pulled you into a hug.

“Nieta is calling. Hug Francisco for me, hija, and I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nodded, squeezing her back almost as hard. You and Frankie were using his first real day off to babysit and get some quality time, and both of you were well aware this was hardly goodbye. You gave a gentler hug to your grandfather, who was going with her, whispering “Bye Jimbo,” as you kissed his cheek. He had conspired to let you stay out for the evening, and while you’d miss driving him home, you were grateful for the opportunity.

Seeing them safely as far as you could, your feet danced with excitement. Like it had been more than handful of times, they knew the path to the locker rooms, carrying you so light you were almost floating. When you slid into the waiting room, Frankie was already clean and looking for you anxiously. Maybe you should’ve given him a little wave from across the room, but you could do better.

You ducked away from his line of sight, and snuck around behind him before say, “hey, batter, batter.” He whipped around and before you could even register the grin on his face, he was pulling you against his chest.

“Hey yourself,” he said, and the two of you got one sweet, slightly needy kiss before you heard good-natured groans.

“It’s been like month,” Santi said, ruffling your hair as you stepped back, “Aren’t you guys done flirting?” You stuck your tongue out at him, wondering if you were fast enough to flick him in the forehead.

“Don’t bother,” Will said, his tone resigned but playful as he hugged you too. “Be happy he got her to stick around.” You pulled a face, and Benny laughed. They all knew by now that it was more than a summer fling, even Tom, who you realized hadn’t come out yet.

When you asked, they winced, and you dropped the topic, knowing they would tell you in their own time. Frankie pulled you back to him, his warm fingers lacing with yours as you herded them towards the door.

They were still working on things, still trying to figure out what their next steps looked like.

For now, you owed your baseball boys a dinner.

-           

 It had taken you a couple of times cooking for them to get the portions right. The Miller boys ate like they were hollow, and after a game was a testament to that.

Thankfully, you had more than enough this time, having been preparing their favorites for days with the enthusiastic help from Frankie’s mom, and begrudging help from his sister as a thank you to her hermano. The piled into your little space and ate gratefully, telling you about the game like you knew what they were talking about.

“Benny, why were you –” his deep laughter cut you off, and your hand shot out to grab Will’s wrist mid-throw. You had a rule against projectile food to keep them from squabbling like children at your makeshift dinner table. The dinner roll fell to his plate as Benny tried to explain, and Santi deadpanned.

“I was stretching, and I got distracted –”

“You were flirting with the entire stadium, Ben.”

“No! Well –”

It was warm and bright, eating dinner with them like a family, teasing and laughter filling the space like clear broth in the cool of night.

Frankie’s hand found your knee under the table.

The best part about these replacement-parties was watching them all try to help clean up. You were lucky professional athletes had fast reflexes, or you would’ve lost more than a few dishes to their shenanigans. They insisted, wouldn’t let you help, and things probably would’ve been put back correctly if you had, but it was great, letting things play out however they may. Maybe years and years down the road, you would tell a younger generation that you had some of the world’s most desirable athletes fighting in your kitchen over where you kept your dish soap refills.

And after, they would collapse in your living room, unearthing all the games from your shelves. One of your favorite moments from the summer was coming through thrift stores for games, ignoring the stare of jealousy and making ridiculous bets.

All the while, Frankie kept as close to you as he could, too busy watching you with wrinkles in the corners of his eyes to be embarrassed of his rambunctious friends.

When you and Will won the first game of the evening, he accidentally hit you in the face with the back of his hand as he flung his arms open in triumph.

It hadn’t hurt as badly as it would’ve if his brother had been the one talking with his hands, but Frankie had still thumped him in the back of the head before he followed you to the kitchen.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Frankie,” you laughed, but he was already taking the pack of frozen peas from your hand to press it against the lump forming on your temple. He was gentle, and the air shifted, like there was more on his mind than your minor injury. Brown eyes searching yours, you wished you knew what he was thinking.

“Francisco?” Your hands had settled on his chest but the moved around his neck when he moved the ice to ghost his lips over the spot. He didn’t answer for a moment, just setting the peas aside, and carefully trapping you against the counter.

There were noises of good-natured arguing coming from the living room, and you knew he was taking advantage of their distraction, carving a little pocket for the two of you in time.

“Te adoro,” his lips were almost hot as they pressed into yours. “I love you,” he said, so close you could feel the hairs on his upper lip still.

For the past month, your relationship had been fast, jumpstarting to serious and staying that was, but this was new. It was one thing, for him to tell you he wanted something real with you, wanted you to be a part of his life, and another to hear him say he loved you simply, without abandon. Still, you didn’t hesitate.

“I love you too.”

He kissed you again, unhurried, and you almost couldn’t return it, you were smiling so widely. Your bump was long forgotten.

When the two of you came out the kitchen, the others had barely noticed you were gone and Ben immediately was accusing you of cheating, but Santi shot you a knowing smile.

-           

There was a gap of time when a season ended, when Molly’s inbox was mercifully void of emails. It was a time when the chaos of her job slowed, for a bit before she began her work for the off-season, and she relished it with every fiber of her being.

This particular gap began wrapped up in sheets with Tom, her Tom, kissing and wishing the world outside was a simple as this, in the little bubble of her room.

She could always tell though, when his mind was no longer filled with her, and the other sides of him began to leak through the cracks. His eyes moved with urgency instead of appreciation his hands moved a little slower and then in sudden jerks, and when he trailed off mid-sentence, she sighed.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

He rolled onto his back; his gaze pointed towards the ceiling.

“Right after the game,” he confessed, and she sighed again, sitting up. If nothing else, for him, she had endless patience.

“How’d that go?”

Her love was silent, thinking only of the embarrassment and defensiveness that had reared in his chest. The tilt of Santi’s head, Frankie’s slow nod. He wished Benny had been disappointed, wished Will had thought it was a joke.

“They understood,” Tom didn’t add that he hoped with all his considerable might that they had reacted stronger, hoped they had told him not to, said they needed him to stay, but they hadn’t. It wouldn’t have been true, anyway. They were growing, going somewhere he couldn’t follow.

Her hand ran over his chest as it filled with air, stilling over his heart.

“It’s time,” one of them said, and the other nodded.

Counseling. Rehab. Retirement.

Slowing down to coach at a local college.

He clenched his hand into a fist, and then relaxed, palm falling open, upwards.

The love of his life kissed his forehead.

It was time.

-           

The first stop of the day was with James, spending the morning helping him around the house. Before this summer, you had thought you were his favorite grandchild, but he had essentially adopted Frankie months ago, and already liked him more than you.

The little old man talked excitedly about baseball and lectured your love on enjoying his off-season. He dragged him into the yard, talking his ear off about the benefits of different teas and the importance of volunteering with youth programs, and you settled inside, throwing away expired things from his fridge. Their absence was your only opportunity for the chore.

Honestly, the two of you needed to leave sooner than later and you weren’t sure how much time you had.

“Honey?” You dropped a can of whipped cream from a month ago guiltily.

“Yeah, Jimbo?”

He eyed you suspiciously but seemed too excited to be deterred by you.

“I put this together for you!” He said proudly, and you noticed a flash of the same mischief from yesterday in his eyes. Your grandfather handed you a box, and made you promise not to open in until you left. You hugged the sweet man, and smiled when Frankie did, too, before saying your goodbyes, thankful beyond words for him.

If it weren’t for him, you were sure you wouldn’t be climbing into the truck of your boyfriend, and certainly not having the catcher’s hand slide into yours. When you opened the box, the gratitude didn’t shrink, but your embarrassment rose.

Frankie laughed so hard you thought he was going to have to pull over.

It was full of Francisco Morales merchandise, signatures and memorabilia ranging from his very first baseball card to his most recent bobble head.

-           

Frankie kissed your knuckles for the second time since you climbed into his truck, which was silly since it had only been three minutes since you left his mother’s house.

He could feel your look, answering before you even asked.

“I’m good, just… I love you,” he said, unable to keep his eyes on the road when he said it.

“I love you too, Frankie,” you said, wondering what prompted him.

“Could we… would you want to get dinner?” He looked thoughtful and you laughed.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Your hand was lifted to his lips again, sending electricity up your spine as he confirmed.

The two of you had a bag full of Anita’s best by the time you entered his home, and he still hadn’t told you what was on his mind. The two of you ate, sharing stories about the day’s adventures, helping his mother around the house and watching, Bianca, his sweet, tiny new niece. You had a great conversation with his mother, and despite her excitable nature, she surprised you by asking you about your boundaries and promising not to overstep.

Frankie told you about his hermana, and her slowly opening up to the idea of letting him help her out, not as charity but family, and letting him shoulder some of the responsibilities. You watched the warmth in his eyes as he talked and wondered how it was possible for a single person to feel so safe.

Eventually the talking slowed, and you found yourself half falling asleep against the stretch of his chest, is hands slowing their wandering paths.

“Love?” he murmured into your hair. You hummed in response.

When he didn’t say anything, your mind woke, and you pulled yourself up, and into his lap, straddling him.

He looked up at you for a moment before you felt him sigh against you.

“I have this baby,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile at his phrasing. Santi always said it was melodramatic. “Do you… is this all too much?”

His expression mirrored that of your first date, and you told him the same thing as you had then.

That you would stay, as long as he would have you. That you would navigate alongside him, that you were happy to. This time, you added that you loved him, and you felt him shift under you, anxiety leaking out of him, allowing solid adoration to replace it.

Frankie said, “Thank you,” against your mouth, and like a prayer. In the dim evening light, you kissed him, and as his hands slipped under your shirt to hold your sides, he held you for the first time like you were real.

And you were, this was something that wasn’t going away.

For the first time in a long time, it was a perfect day for something new, and his heart was here, beating under his hands.

 <<

translations:

pan dulce: pastries

mi frijol: my bean

tu marido: your husband

nieta: granddaughter 

hija: daughter

hermano/a: brother, sister

te adoro: I adore you

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin @sarahjkl82-blog @pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @pjkimrn @dobbyjen @stuckontheceiling

[sanchosammy]

Baby, I was going to tell you.

Description: You find out through a friend that your husband has taken another job with the guys. This leaves the two of you to have a very serious talk. 

Warnings: Mention of Frankie’s drug problem. Cursing. Slight NSFW. Trouble with getting pregnant. Slightly angst, but made up with fluff.

Note: I did edit this while being very tipsy on a margarita...Yeah. I feel like this isn’t my best work, but it is a very cute story. (This does have Frankie and the reader actively trying to have children. If you’re not a fan of children, this won’t be for you. I just wanted to put that out there!)

Word Count: 4,373

Tonight was your turn to host dinner with your favorite neighbors. Jacob and Hannah, the first married couple you met who was tolerable to hang out with. That was considered a rare find in the marriage world. It was nearly three years back when you and Frankie officially tied the knot and afterwards you searched to find your forever home.

And you did four months after the wedding! A beautiful home to raise a future family. Since then the couple next door had been nothing but pleasant to the two of you. They’ve helped out whenever you needed a hand with a house project that turned out to be a little more than a four hand job, and the couple had attended nearly every party you’ve ever hosted. With that, Jacob and Frankie became close friends over the years. The two of them spending time in Jacob’s ‘man cave’ as he called it. A lame way to say they played pool and talked about who knows what on the weekends.

You didn’t mind though, in your mind it was healthy for him to have someone like that in his life. A friend outside of his old service buddies. Not that you didn’t love the men you’ve come to know, but he needed someone who could normalize his life a little.

It was a beautiful night. The sun setting in the distance as the summer sky remained bright. A soft warmness covering your skin from the perfect weather. The four of you sat at the table on the brick patio in your backyard. The string lights hung above you beautifully setting the mood for the evening, it was a small project you asked Frankie to do a month ago.

He loved to tease you about ‘overworking’ him since you’ve bought the house, but it was only jokes on his end. You knew he loved those projects. It was something to prove he was needed somewhere and you did everything possible to make sure he knew you couldn’t do it without him.

“The meal was delicious as always, (Y/N).” Hannah complimented as she wiped her mouth with a napkin, the plate in front of her now empty. Jacob chimed in an agreement as he complimented the taste of your well-known lasagna. It was a meal you continued to make for events throughout the years and it was always praised.

“Thank you,” You responded, a little flustered by the attention but nonetheless happy with everyone’s satisfaction from the meal. You loved to host these small dinners with friends. A part of you knew deep down this was used as a distraction, nothing but a small activity to keep you busy outside of work. Truthfully, you and Frankie had been trying to have a baby.

Sure, it was only four months into the attempt, but your disappointment had started to stick with you. The excitement running out slowly, and was replaced with a small flame of doubt left. Your doctor assured you that some women’s bodies take time after switching off from their birth control, but that didn’t stop the worry you carried each month that passed. Frankie had been so supportive throughout the whole process as he continued to promise you that the time will come when you become parents.

It was sweet of him. He tried so hard to make you happy and somehow always managed to bring back your smile. It reminded you of why you adored this man so much. You just wanted to be a mom… The mother of his children.

Frankie practically beamed with a look of pride beside you. His arm rested against the back of your chair as he placed a kiss on the side of your temple, his mouth still close to your ear as he commented “Thank you for dinner.”

You returned a soft kiss on his cheek in response with a quiet ‘you’re welcome’. No matter how many years passed, you still looked at him like a love-sick puppy and he looked at you the exact same way. His brown eyes softened whenever he looked at his beautiful wife. The only thing that made him feel complete in life.

You stood up collecting Frankie’s plate, that was before he swiped it from your hand casually while picking up yours as well from the table. “No baby, you cooked. Let me clean up.” He smiled as he started to collect the rest of the plates.

“Allow me,” Hannah chirped in as she picked up the side dishes before you could protest. A small tease came from her as she passed by. You were the type to do it all no matter what, and so Hannah liked to force you to relax once in a while. Both Frankie and her tended to bother you about taking on too much.

You watched the two of them head towards the house to put away the used dinner plates. Hannah talking to Frankie about the new window panels he put up. 

Jacob was now standing with you, a small chuckle leaving him. “Your husband is going to kill my bank account. Everytime that woman sees something Frankie did in the yard, she wants to change something about ours.”

You couldn’t stop a small laugh. You grinned as you replied, “I’m sorry about that Jacob, I’m usually the one who put Frankie up to it.” 

There was a small pause as Jacob looked at the kitchen window. Hannah kept Frankie in place as she talked about something in the house, that woman could talk forever. Jacob’s smile faded as his eyes came back to yours and his voice came out softer than before. “I know things are probably really rough right now, (Y/N). If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. No matter the time or day.” 

You blinked at him. You had no idea what Jacob was on about, or what he was being so soft hearted for. Did Frankie tell him about the baby trouble? You didn’t think Frankie would spill such personal information. “What are you referring to?”

“Frankie told me about them calling him into deployment… I know that has to be really hard on you. He’s been putting on a brave face about the whole thing but I don’t think he’ll know how to function without you.”

You paused for a brief second and forced out a chuckle. “Frankie isn’t being deployed, Jacob.” He clearly had Francisco mixed with someone else. You would know if your own husband was being shipped off anywhere. Plus, Frankie said he was never going back to that life. He told you himself countless times. Though your smile faltered as you looked over Jacob’s face and the silence between the two of you became deafening. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Your question came out a little breathless, “Jacob, did Frankie tell you that himself?” 

The new information hitting you like a freight train. You watched as the guilt on his face spread. You felt like you couldn’t breathe suddenly and you wanted to burst into tears on the spot.

As Frankie stepped out of the backdoor he saw you. He knew that look, and his movements slowed down. He hasn’t seen that look since the neighborhood cat you secretly fed was hit by a car and you cried for the rest of the week. That heartbroken look hardly showed up on your face and worry shot through him instantly.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” He asked as he came by your side. He noticed the look of remorse plastered on Jacob’s face. The mood in the air was now stiff, and the light from the summer sky was filled with darkness.

You turned towards him and your voice cracked as you asked “You’re being shipped off?”

He stiffened in front of you. He was going to tell you soon but he wanted you to have a few more days of bliss. This isn’t how he wanted you to find out though. Frankie knew you wouldn’t take this well, he had been married to you long enough to know how devastated you’d be hearing the information. He had planned to be sensitive about this as much as he could, and now here he was looking at the tears filling your eyes in front of him.

His shame now matched Jacob’s and that told you everything you needed to know. 

“Baby, I was going to tell you.” His words fell short as you pushed past him. Not allowing him to finish his explanation. You couldn’t believe Frankie hid this from you, and told Jacob before you for that matter. 

You weren’t deaf upon him calling your name behind you, but you didn’t want to see his face. You shut the backdoor behind you before rushing upstairs towards your shared bedroom. Tears finally surfacing as you let out a sob.

+

 A few minutes passed by as you sat alone on the end of the bed. The bawling slowly died down into a quiet sniffle. You couldn’t believe your husband was leaving. The two of you had never spent time apart like this since you’ve started the relationship.

Frankie assured Jacob that it was alright after hearing him apologize for several minutes, but he was just attempting to be polite for his own sake. He had enough shit to deal with after tonight, and he didn’t want to add a fight with his neighbor on the list. Plus, he needed Jacob’s support for when he left. He needed to know there was someone there to help you while he was gone.

The house was silent when he entered through the backdoor. It became an unbearable reminder in his mind that you’d be alone in the silence while he was God knows where in the jungle. As he walked up the stairs he didn’t miss the sound of your quiet sniffling behind the shut bedroom door. His heart shattering with the confrontation of how he was hurting you.

His knuckles knocked on the wood. He didn’t want to push your boundaries by walking in when you were in a vulnerable position. The sound of you telling him to ‘Go away’ nearly made him wince.

A sigh escaped his lips as he rested his forehead against the door. He couldn’t stand the feeling of you being this upset with him. Your marriage wasn’t perfect by any means, but you had never shut him out like this. He called out keeping his voice gentle “Please let me in, (Y/N).”

There was a pause as he waited. You shuffled to the door and opened it without looking at him. You didn’t want to face him, but you couldn’t leave him outside the door like a kicked dog. You returned to your spot on the bed without a word.

Frankie awkwardly followed and placed himself next to you.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. He couldn’t take it. He was the reason you looked this upset and that killed him inside.

“This is another thing with the guys, isn’t it?” You asked as you finally looked at him. 

He nodded his head faintly. His eyes studied your expression and it was filled with disappointment. You brought your hands to your face trying to remain calm. Your relationship had always been filled with communication and you wanted to keep it that way.

“I’m just so…” You bit your lip feeling the tears coming back. “I’m so hurt. You didn’t even ask me, Frankie. Why would you do something this dangerous while we’re trying to have a baby? I thought you were finished with all of this when we got married.”

He found himself forcing back his own emotions. He wasn’t comfortable with crying; but as with everything in his life, it was different when it came to you. He hasn’t felt this kind of guilt since your second year of marriage, when you found out about his little cocaine problem he tried to hide from you. That was a war within itself that left the two of you crying on the floor a couple of times because you refused to let him spiral throughout his recovery.

He cleared his throat trying to push away the burn. “I know…” He wrapped his arms around you trying to soothe your shaking figure. “I was done… but Santigato needs a pilot, and I thought we could use the extra money for the baby. I thought I was doing the right thing for us.”

You were upset still, but his words melted your heart. That’s Frankie for you. He tried so hard to be the perfect husband. And he was in your eyes. He was such a good man and he did everything for you without a complaint, but he personally struggled to feel like he was enough. A part of you knew deep down Frankie had never forgiven himself for the cocaine situation he had put you through. He carried the guilt on his shoulders, no matter how many times you told him that it wasn’t something for him to feel guilty about. That never stopped Frankie from trying to do more to show his worth and love for you.

“Money isn’t worth your life.” You looked up at him. You noticed his eyes were glossed over before he kissed your temple to hide away his pain. He forced out a strained ‘I know’.

You knew that you could guilt Frankie out of this mission, but that seemed unfair to do to him. He wanted to do this because it would prove that he could provide, and that he was the husband he wanted to be. Could you really push down your own fears to allow your husband on some stupid operation so he can have self closure?

You let out a sigh. You shifted to hug him back and his arms tightened around you in response. You mumbled into his chest “... How long would you be gone?” 

He stiffened in realization that you were considering letting him do this.

“I don’t know…A week or two.” His hand started to rub up and down your back. He knew this was stressful for you, and that’s why he was even more grateful that you were considering.

“Is it…” You wanted to ask if it was dangerous, but of course it was. Everything he did with them was dangerous. You silently recalled the stories he told you about the shit he did before you started dating. You take in a deep breath and change the question, “How risky?” 

“I told Pope I wasn’t doing anything with active fire.” 

You hummed in acknowledgment. At least he put down a ground rule. That didn’t change the fact that anything could go wrong though, and that’s what scared the hell out of you. It was hard to make a call on this when you were wrapped safely in his arms. His cologne surrounded you and brought peace like a favorite candle. 

It dawned upon you. “Frankie, what about your pilot license?” You questioned, confused. He was still under review, he couldn’t legally fly anything right now. His chest vibrated as an uncomfortable chuckle came from him. 

“It doesn’t really matter in this case… Will knows a guy.”

“Sounds legal.” You joked. He gave a half-hearted smirk at the comment.

You pulled back from his arms with a hesitant nod. He was surprised that you were giving him the green light to do this. His heart beat a little faster as it reminded him of another reason why he loved you.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” You collected some air for a second. Forcing yourself to come with the terms that this was going to happen. “If you feel like this is something you need to do… Then I’m here to back you up.”

You blinked before suddenly his lips were on yours. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back and fall backwards on the bed. He was above you as he leaned away slightly, his chest pressing against yours with heavy breathes.

“I love you.” His brown eyes looked over your face. He studied every part of it. He had seen it so many times and somehow each time it managed to take his breath away. How did he land someone like you?

“I love you too, Frankie.” You smiled at him. Your hand reached up to run through his hair. You liked when he kept his hair long like this, and so he never cut it too short. He didn’t care either way since he covered it with a ball cap most of the time anyway.

You didn’t notice his hand started to explore further until your breath hitched. You weren’t sure when his hand slid under your dress, his fingers tracing the bottom of your panties causing you to freeze from the contact.

“Francisco.” You shivered from his touch, which only brought out that shit eating grin of his. 

“What?” He played innocent before he started to press kisses in a trail down your neck. Pleased when he heard the soft moan that escaped your lips after he left a love-bite. He  could feel himself practically drunk off your perfume alone. “I just want to show you how much I’ll miss you.”

You started to lean into his touch as his fingers pulled at the soft fabric. He lifted himself up to look at you again. The need in your eyes making him weak. You stopped him by his wrist and he paused immediately.

“What about Jacob and Hannah?” You blinked at the sudden memory of your neighbors downstairs. The last thing you needed was your friends hearing you moan from the upstairs window. 

“Oh,” Frankie breathed out in relief. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea that you’re worried about the neighbors after everything that happened tonight. “I sent them home after you went inside, honey.”

“Dammit!” You cursed quietly. “I didn’t get a chance to give them dessert, I made cheesecake.” 

You frowned at him a little regretful of how the night ended with them. He laid there propped up on his elbow admiring your beauty. He was so beyond whipped for you, and it was the best part of his life. His smile returned as he leaned forward pressing a soft kiss on your lips before he pulled back again.

“Too bad for them,” He commented and you watched him move to the spot between your legs. His hands busied themselves unbuttoning the sundress you wore as he looked back at you. Your cheeks flushed as you realized where he was going with this. “I found something else sweet to eat.”

+

He had only left a couple of days ago, but you missed him so much. The two of you had never spent more than a weekend apart. Plus, you had something important to tell him. Your hands nervously shake as you look at the white stick.

There it was in front of you… The little pink lines you’ve been praying to see. Tears pooled your eyes as emotion took over again. You were filled with an indescribable type of joy. You had no idea which night was the reason for this surprise because honestly your sex life with Frankie was a regular occurance. And now you had a new reason to be thankful for that.

You had taken the test a few hours before but it felt so unreal that you continued to come back and look again. You did a couple of them just to be sure, and everytime the pretty color appeared in front of your eyes. As happy as you were inside from the news, this only heightened the state of your anxiety because Frankie wasn’t home.

You weren’t even sure if you should tell him until he came back. A part of you was worried this would be a distraction that could throw him off, and you didn’t want him to have another thing to worry about at home.

Looking in the mirror as you placed the test back on the counter. The soft smile beautifully placed on your face. You wished Frankie was here to experience the moment with you. You imagined you’d be squeezed into a hug right about now.

You jumped as your cell phone brought you back to reality. The screen lit up from the spot on your bed waiting for you to pick up the call. An unrecognizable number from Brazil…. Frankie?

“Hello?” You questioned nervously.

“Hey, it’s me.” Frankie’s voice was on the other end. You relaxed at the sound. He was safe right now. 

“Hey! How’re you holding up?” You asked. 

“Uh,” He let out a small huff before he continued. “Everything is planned out… Which means you might not hear from me for a few days.”

“Yeah, I figured so.” 

You knew this part was coming, he told you in advance. Once everything was sorted out that means he’d be out of service until they’re back on their way home. That didn’t stop the small pit of sadness from washing over you.

. It was going to be difficult to not know if he was alive for several days.

“Hey, hey,” He called out softly into the phone trying to bring back your attention to him. He knows how easy it is to spiral into every ‘what if’ possible. “I know what you’re doing. It’ll be fine, sweetheart.” 

You listened with the phone pressed against your ear. The sound of him shuffling away from what sounded like the guys in the background.  He continued talking in a hushed tone for privacy, “This will be good for us… Money for the future baby, right?”

It was an attempt to cheer you up and keep your spirits high about the whole ordeal. Your view shifted back to the bathroom as you let out a shaky breath. You wanted to tell him now, it seemed impossible to keep him out of the loop for several days. What if Frankie died never knowing? The thought made you feel sick.

“Actually, I…” You stuttered out. You paused as your mind raced between the idea of not telling him and spilling out the truth right now. No, no, you couldn’t hold this in. You had to tell him in case anything happened. Consider it encouragement to come home.

“Francisco?” 

“Yeah? I’m here, baby.” He waited patiently as there was a small pause on your end. His nerves started to feel uneasy by your sudden hesitation. His own what ifs started to float around his brain.

“I’m pregnant.” You say it in one motion. Not rushed, but quick.

His eyebrows scrunched together and he stood still in the room alone for a moment. His mind trying to process what you just told him through the phone. He heard the words clearly, but his brain wouldn’t connect them together.

“What?” He asked dumbfounded.

“Frankie, I’m pregnant. The test was positive.”

His breath hitched and his heart stopped, “Wait, really?”. The two of you talked about becoming parents for so long, and he tried to be encouraging the past few months. It seemed unreal to finally hear the words out loud. “I-... This is… We’re going to be parents.” 

“Yeah,” Your voice broke, but you were filled to the brim with happiness. “We’re going to be parents, Frankie.”

You heard it, and you almost didn’t believe your ears. There was a sob on the other end of the phone. He tried to hold it in as he covered his mouth with his hand, a couple of tears falling down his face in the process. Frankie hardly cried like this. It was the type of cry that comes from the bottom of someone’s soul and it only surfaced if somebody died or a fucking mirale happened to you.

“Francisco?” 

“I’m here, baby.” He repeated the words he used earlier. This time his voice strained from emotion. He wiped his face with his hand trying to collect himself before he had to return back to his friends. “I’m just overwhelmed… In the best way possible. Fuck, we’re going to be parents!”

You let out a small laugh trying to stop your own crying. “I’m so happy, I can’t wait for you to come home.” 

He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before replying, his voice leveled out now “Let’s celebrate when I come home. Whatever you want to do, I’ll do it. What about that restaurant you’re always talking about, baby?”

You snorted. “Frankie, you hate that place.” 

It was true… It was overpriced and he didn’t think the food was worth the forty minute drive, but that didn’t matter to him. He just wanted to spoil you for everything you’ve done. You allowed him to come on this stupid operation in the first place, and now you’re pregnant with his child.  

“It doesn’t matter, I know you love their fettuccine alfredo.” 

“Frankie Morales, you know my weakness.” You hummed into the phone. 

He chuckled in response before replying “How do you think you got pregnant in the first place, sweetheart?”

You burst into laughter “You’re terrible for that.”

His laughing was cut short as someone walked in the room. You heard them mumble out ‘we have to go’ before Frankie replied an okay back. 

“I have to go, mi amor.”

The nervousness returned as you were forced to remember this was it for now. You weren’t going to hear from him for a couple of days and you’d have to hope everything went smoothly on his end. “Be careful, please?”

“Of course. I’ll be home in a few days, okay?” He said the words like a promise rather than a reassurance. “Don’t stress yourself out over this, and take care of yourself until I come back. I love you, (Y/N).” 

“I love you too, Francisco.”

The phone clicked and the call ended. He had such a new fire in him now. His heart pounding in his chest was only a reminder that he lived another day to be needed. His focus was now on coming home in one piece. He had a wife and kid on the way, and nothing would stop him from coming home to you. 

Taglist: @warrentrash @mandoclan

[natromanxoff]

22 - Cars & Queenie Days

Hi there Queenie people.

What a strange little weekend this one turned out to be. Let me start by saying that most of my stories seem to have something to do with alcohol, but we were all a hell of a lot younger then, and I for one cannot do that anymore, well not all the time. Although a few days ago an old friend made a guest appearance, the Kurgen was let loose on the streets of Bondi which seemed to start a string of Queen type events. It all started about midday on Saturday when a friend of mine phoned and suggested lunch, what a fantastic idea as it was a lovely hot sunny day, so we met in a nice place with a garden and ordered the first bottle of wine, and it was the Linda Lovelace of vino, it went down very quickly and easily. During the course of the afternoon I phoned my mate Steve and said he should join us, which he did at about 8pm, and we finally moved indoors to have dinner, after sitting in the sun and guzzling wine for the last six hours, and needless to say I'm pissed so we ordered some more food and what turned out to be the last bottle of plonk for the evening.

Half way through dinner Rebecca decided she was to out of it to continue, and wisely went home, leaving the Kurgen and his mate, who has decided he's gonna catch up with me, what a good friend eh, but him getting drunk means me becoming a complete gibbering idiot. After dining we moved next door to the bar where the whisky was flowing very rapidly and the idiot telling one barmaid she looked like a cheap hooker, while swearing his undying love to another. Oh, get me another drink Steve, I think I need one. It finally gets to 1am and time to head home, it's been a long day, and while trying to negotiate the 10min walk I was complaining that my right leg wouldn't work, usual drunken crap.

What has this got to do with Queen I hear you ask, well, apart from the fact that a million years ago I worked for them for a while, not very much. Steve and myself eventually got back to my place and I got phoneitis and I had the need to speak with everyone from my dodgey past, so, phone book out and lets go. Pride of place went to Mr Deacon who was lucky to be speaking on the phone so the Kurgen, after two tries, couldn't get through. Time up for you pal, next. Broughie. He always calls me when he's legless, now it's his turn to try and decipher what I'm on about. When I got through to Trip I can remember saying, "Where the f*** are you?" And do you know what, I have no idea what the answer was, though he did say they cancelled a couple of shows, and everyone was having a great time. This is fun, lets spend some more money. The next call started with, "Mr Taylor, it's Mr Taylor here." Sorry Rog, but you did pick up the phone. I did tell him I'd listened to his new stuff on his website and it's the best stuff he'd done in years, and I have an awful feeling I said that I didn't like 'Happiness,' but he did say that he reads my memoirs, so if you get to see this Mr T. I'll try and be a bit more sober next time I call.

Jacky followed, phone was busy (No it wasn't, we were out, you left a message!!) , gotta move on, I'm on a roll now. A new game, lets try and track down my ex in LA, no luck, thank god, and with that my new accountant Steve took the phone away from me, thanks dear boy. He clears off around 3 and I hit the sack and descend into a coma. Ring ring.....ring ring. Its 9am, who the f*** is phoning in the middle of the night, so, with head pounding I track the phone down and had to raise a bit of a giggle, it's Broughie and now he's pissed and he told me that in nearly twenty years of knowing me, that is the worst he's ever heard me try and talk, to which I reply that this is the worst I've ever felt.

Spandau's Tony Hadley was the next person I speak to, what a diamond geezer, always nice to chat with him. Sunday was a non-existent day with a phone that had no sympathy for me and kept ringing, amazingly it's still in one piece. A wet Monday and I'm still feeling a bit iffy, but come afternoon I receive a package in the post, I like little surprises, so when I walk in and turn the radio on Bo Rap is playing, and when I open my pressie it's from the ever gorgeous Jacky who has very kindly sent me RT's Electric Fire. You know what I mean, his new CD not the electric fire out of his bedroom. I'm glad I told him it was great, cause it is, in my humble opinion, possibly the best thing he's done. That was a hell of a lot of words just to say " go and buy Electric fire and put it in the charts, you won't be disappointed".

I was chatting with Greg Fryer, the fireplace restorer, and we're both looking forward to the Australian convention in a few weeks, although I might be drinking lemonade as I made the idiot promise that "I'm never drinking again". Some time ago somebody asked me a question which went something like, "When you were in the studio with just Roger or the Cross, was it a bit of an anti climax after working with Queen as they were such brilliant musicians." I don't know if I'm missing something here, but as Roger was a solo artist, a member of the Cross and also in Queen, surely that must make him brilliant. Well, whatever your name was, no it wasn't boring it was mostly fun. When he was producing other acts I must admit that I did a lot of sitting around doing bugger all, and I every act were ok as people, though once Jimmy Nail had a hit he did get a rather large ego and changed into a real prat.

Virginia Wolf had two old buddies of mine in the band, Joe Burt and Jason Bonham, so when we went to Ibiza to record it was party time from start to finish, though Jason did go overboard a bit, so to protect us more than him we sent him back to England. I was only involved in one Cross album, Shove It, and that was just going to be another RT solo album so he played all the instruments himself.

I think I've mentioned before that we drove the Bentley to Montreux, well this was the time. The plan was to spend three or four days in Montreux recording then go to Gstaad to write some more songs. That was the excuse because we had a huge chalet there and the idea was to do a lot of skiing and a bit of writing, which is exactly what we did. It was in Gstaad that Roger came up with the idea of forming a band, and after a hard day on the slopes we would sit around at night working out a plan on putting a band together. On the subject of Bentleys and Gstaad I feel obliged to tell you just how much bad luck RT has with his cars.

When he bought his first Range Rover he claimed "You can park them on a sixpence." We had to tow him out of a ditch. His Ferrari burst into flames on his way to the south of France, and his Aston Martin also burst into flames. He hardly ever drove the Bentley, it was my baby and I loved it and never had any problems. Dominique decided she was going to join our little ski trip and was coming to Gstaad, now don't get me wrong, I love Dom, a fine lady, still is, it's just that I didn't fancy the hour drive down the mountain and then the hour along the motorway to the airport. On the day of her arrival RT surprised me by saying he was going to pick her up, that'll do me, drop me off at the chair lift and have a nice drive. A very pleasant afternoon was spent on the piste so when I get back to the house I'm ready for some mindless computer games, and while in the middle of shooting some aliens the phone rings and it's Dominique asking where Roger was as he's not at the airport to pick her up.

The only thing I can say is for her to hang on because he left in plenty of time so he should be there, and I'm back to saving the world. Hours later the door flies open with Roger ranting and raving and saying something about F-in-cars. What's his problem? I look out the window and in the driveway is a VW Golf, so the obvious question is, "Where's the Bentley?" When his lordship finally calmed down he explained that when he got to the motorway there was a blizzard, so he had to have the windscreen wipers on full, but the one on the drivers side came off, so he stopped the car and was groping around in the snow looking for it, and he found it and put it back on. So far so good, except a couple of miles further on it came off again, and this time it was nowhere to be seen. Now try and picture the situation. Swiss motorway, lots of snow falling, very expensive black Bentley and a very famous pop star hanging out the window while driving so he can wipe the snow off the screen so he can see. Not a very good look at all.

On arrival at Geneva he took the car to the Rolls Royce dealer to get fixed, and it wasn't long after this that I said my final goodbye to a trusty friend. Roger on the other hand said Good F***ing Riddance. I have an equally pathetic driving story when we were in Rio, this time it was the two of us, a convertible and one hell of a lot of rain. Next time might be right to tell you how we put the Cross together from the first ad. onwards. Before I go I have a question for Jacky. Do you remember all those bacon sandwiches we had at the auditions? That's it for now Bye

Crystal

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Hold Me, I’m Soft ~ Mammon x Reader

This is going to refer to the DevilGram story with Madi the Witch, because it didn’t sit right with me how Mammon got used and laughed at for being sexually assaulted, especially when I related to that in more ways then I’d want to admit, so there it is, a short little fic to give Monnie some love, especially since his birthday will be this week and I will be at the mountains, unable to actually post anything other than a Happy Birthday maybe.

Ever since she got to the Devildom, Y/N wondered to herself why in the world would the brothers bully Mammon so much, to the point that he’ll break down in tears when nobody is around?

He’s the most gentle of the brothers, yet he’s met with nothing more than taunts and mocking because of his greed. It’s not like he can help it, it’s his Avatar sin, he didn’t choose it. People get annoyed at Beel for eating too much and constantly raiding the fridge, for when he indulges in the pleasure of greed, he’s suddenly the scummy trash brother who’s just a waste of space. The family’s embarrassment.

But why should he be that, when he’s the only one who never gave in to his demonic power from rage? Never tried to attack or kill her and never got in his demon form to lash out at her?

Mammon was the first one to ever call her by her name and even give her nicknames. He was the first one to call her out to the cinema, concerts, shopping, pranking time, board games, card games, and even video games or just some quality time together.

He was the one to taught her how to be an undefeated Blackjack player and how to spot when someone is lying. He was the one to taught her how to flawlessly cheat in games and how to protect herself if something happened.

Even more, he was the one who graciously asked if she wanted to workout with him so she could be stronger and faster if anything were to happen and he wouldn’t be around, just like how it happened long ago, when Levi lost control and almost attacked her.

And, of course, he was the only one who constantly asked her if she was okay, if she was happy, if she needed anything. He would always pamper her whenever he thought she stopped smiling for one split second, or if he thinks she was faking it. He would grab TSL and some comfort food, hot chocolate with marshmallows and would cuddle her all night, playing with her hair.

It really pissed her off, but no matter what she did, and no matter how much she tried to make the others at least tone it down, of course, millennia of habits cannot be so easily tamed.

These were the constant thoughts that plagued Y/N’s mind, yet the white haired man will never know, because she is a girl of few words and many actions.

Today, however, as usual, was the time for some new shenanigans, as Lucifer and Satan must be the escorts of some powerful witch, as per Diavolo’s request, since he literally can’t stand her - And that speaks loads, when it comes to the benevolent Demon Prince.

“Hey, is it really gonna be okay to leave those two by themselves like that?” Mammon asked with a worried expression on his face. “Well, neither of them are saying anything...For now, at least.” Asmo held the same expression as his elder brother. “Yeah, you just KNOW that they’re going to blow up any minute. It’s so exciting!” Levi spoke with a chuckle. “Hey, why is it that you only ever come outta your room at times like this, Levi? I thought you were s’posed to be a shut-in.” Mammon raised his eyebrow at his little brother. “Well, this is Lucifer and Satan. They almost NEVER work together, much less when it’s just the two of them! I mean, if I’d missed an event like this, I’d regret it for the next 800 years.” Levi grinned, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Diavolo was pretty bold to make them work together, if you ask me.” Y/N muttered, crossing her arms and peeking through the door creak.

Saying that, the four of them leaned in the peek better and listen to their conversation.

“Be careful. If Maddi takes a liking to a man, she’ll bring him back home with her.” Lucifer smirked at his younger brother. “As if you need to remind me...I recall how Mammon went home with her that one time. Mammon must have regretted going with her, because by the time he got back, he was on the verge of tears. I remember it like it was yesterday!” Satan shook his head in disbelief, making the girl gasp, covering her mouth with her hands. “HEY! I wasn’t!” Mammon frowned at what he just heard, making Asmo shush him quickly so they won’t be heard. “I don’t even want to THINK about what must’ve happened between those two that night. I can’t understand what possessed Mammon to willingly go home with a woman that dangerous. It’s fortunate she didn’t trick him into making a pact with her while he was there in bed half-asleep.” the blond continued speaking, making the girl bite her lip from the shock and pain in her chest. “But there’s no doubt that Mammon didn’t have a good time, because for a while after he came back he had nightmares, and he’s moan in his sleep. He even stopped spending money left and right...MAMMON, of all demons. Still, Maddi IS attractive. She rivals the succubus who won the Queen Contest in terms of beauty. In fact, Maddi might be even MORE beautiful. I’m a little worried that you’ll end up like Mammon - That as soon as she uses her feminine wiles on you, you’ll fold like a paper airplane.” hearing that, she couldn’t stop herself and she fled the place, going to her room to regain herself, not giving anyone any explanation.

She already made up her mind that, despite being the middle of the day, she will skip both lunch and dinner, so changing in her pyjamas, she got in bed, cuddling the hellhound plushie Mammon got her, and wrapped herself in a tight cocoon with her blanket, not wanting to see the light of the day.

So many thoughts were swirling in her mind, each of them more and more degrading, overpowering one another, guilt taking over her completely.

She prided herself with being a ration person, she really did! She always put ration and logic over hindering emotions...But now...When she can overthink in peace...The ration she held completely dissipated, and here she was, crying her heart out once again.

Why WAS she crying for, anyway?

Was it because she felt Mammon’s pain at having being used like that, against his will, because he’s an innocent and peaceful push-over? 

Was it because she remembered what happened to her, and her heart started aching like crazy, and she began to spiral? 

Was it because she felt plain, ordinary and completely nothing special, when she heard Lucifer saying that Maddi is the most beautiful person in the world and that’s why Mammon was lured in by her?

Or was it the guilt of being affected by jealousy and self-hatred before the pain from what that vile woman did to him?

What the hell was going on through her head, anyway? She heard enough opinions about her and how terrible of a girlfriend she was, why should she even have any hope that Mammon would ever like her? And why the hell was she worrying about that, when she should be worrying about the poor demon?!

She’s really nothing more than a selfish jerk.

As if on cue, she heard the familiar sound of a received message on her D.D.D., and curiosity won over her self-deprecating sulking, and she checked it out, making her heart skip a few beats.

It was Monnie, and he was asking if she was okay and why she left.

Tears started brimming in her eyes, and letting out a few more sobs, she realised that, even thought he doesn’t romantically love her, he will always be her best friend, and she was at least content with that, no matter how selfish she is.

She quickly texted him, asking if it was okay if she came over later, for a sleepover, and of course, he agreed, so the girl put a cardigan over her so it wouldn’t be too obvious she was in her pyjamas - Not that it mattered, anyway - and got some snacks, made some hot chocolate and went to Mammon’s room, finding him in a tanktop and some large pants, playing some game on his phone.

“Took you long enough!” Mammon grinned, making room for her to join him. “What’s with that face? You stormed out of there, so somethin’ must’ve bothered ya. Come on, y’know you can tell me.” he got in a sitting position, looking at her with a concerned look, but was met with silence for a many seconds, in which he feared he must have said something wrong. “I, uh...I guess I got worried about you after what they said...But I didn’t have the best reaction...I needed some time to think things over. It was pretty selfish of me to do that, instead of talking to you first...But I guess I’ve always been pretty selfish, haven’t I?” she chuckled nervously, still standing up, next to the bed. “What the hell are ya on about? Is it about that Maddi thing? Forget it, it happened long ago, it doesn’t bother me anymore.” he shrugged, looking away for a split second, only to look back at her. “I...Don’t think you’re over it.” she bit her lip, looking down, sucking at her teeth to stop herself from sketching any gesture on her face. “What do ya know about that, anyway? Come on, shut up and put the movie on, I ain’t got all day!” he tried to make her stop talking already, but she wasn’t exactly paying attention. “I had a similar experience too and...When I heard what happened, flashes of what happened went in front of my eyes and I started panicking. That’s why I ran away.” she spoke, her eyes glossed and unfocused. “Is that why ya wanted to hang out?” Mammon muttered softly, seeing her slowly nod her head. “I never told anyone...And so, nobody was there to care about me. But you always cared about me...And I wanted to do the same, for once.” she gulped, blinking and putting everything on the nightstand next to his bed. “...Come’re, dummy.” he sighed, tugging on her hand and making her sit on his lap, as was their ritual whenever one of them needed comfort. “Did I upset you, Monnie?” she asked, barely audible, making him put his hands on her shoulders, so she could properly look at him. “What?! Upset me?! ‘Course not! I-I’m happy that you thought of me, okay? It’s just...Yeah, it wasn’t nice, duh, but I’m a demon. I can take many things. But you’re such a frail little human. You’re small, fragile and soft, and since nobody wanted to bother getting to know such a nice gal like you, then I will always be there for you.” he put his hands on her face, trying to reach through to her. “...I was supposed to comfort you...Why did it go the other way around...? I was supposed to make sure you okay, that you’re smiling and that you can manage to get over what happened in the past...I wanted to be the one you can count on, for once...But I’m failing even at that...That’s how much of a selfish jerk I am...You deserve better than me, Monnie.” she hung her head, resting her forehead on his shoulder, not realising her words made him stiff, and tears prickled at his eyes. “Shut up, dummy! You’re a dummy! Dummy! Dummy! Never say things like that okay, got it?! Listen, I-I care about you, okay? I don’t care if you manage to comfort me or not, I just care that you think about me, okay? You’re the only one that gives a damn about me, and I appreciate that, okay? You see part of yourself in me, and I see a part of myself in you, so of course I want to keep you safe.” Mammon sighed, holding the girl close to his chest, playing with her hair, as he always did. “Monnie...Can I tell you something?” she muttered. It was now or never. If he hated her, so be it, but at least he knows. “Of course ya can, dummy. You can tell me anythin’ you want.” he said with an encouraging chuckle. “I...Left because I felt guilty. Because...My first thoughts were creeping with jealousy, instead of worrying about you and what happened, first and foremost. My brain fails me big time. And I feel really bad, ‘cause you deserve much better than some idiot who gets jealous over someone vile like...Her.” she let a few tears fall down her face, but poor Mammon was lost in his own head.

Jealous? Why the hell would she be jealous? What could she be jealous of? What is going on even?

“Why would you be jealous of her? You’re better than she’ll ever be, in every way. What the hell is going on through that head of yours, Y/N?” he frowned, flicking her forehead, unsure of how to react. “You heard how Lucifer and Satan spoke about her...And they are Lucifer and Satan. They spoke only praises about her...A-And I didn’t want her to be around you. Y-You’re my first man, Monnie, please understand what I’m saying.” she hid her face with her hands, her bottom lip quivering from embarrassment and guilt. “O-Oh...Ya like me?! Like...Like-Like me?! For reals?!” his voice became so cheerful and hopeful, and as soon as he saw her nodding, he started laughing very happily, kissing her forehead and taking away her hands from her face, his grin bright and dazzling like the first sunshine of Spring. “Cool, ‘cause I love ya too! I was sure you liked one of my brothers, they ain’t as problematic as me, but you like me, your first man, and I couldn’t be happier!” he started kissing her all over her face, making her blush like a tomato. “Why wouldn’t I like you? You’re the best. You’re the only one who has been genuine with me since the very beginning and cared about me. And spending time with you always is always calming and...You always make me happy. I forgot what it’s like to be happy since that happened...But whenever my brain goes stupid and I start overthinking, you always manage to keep me grounded...And I really appreciate you for that.” Y/N spoke out, making Mammon’s eyes water, and with the ordinary greedy impulse he had, he grabbed her face and kissed her deeply, without even realising what in the world happened. “Don’t fluster me like that, Y/N...Actually, do, I love it, but I’m not used to it.” he chuckled nervously, making the girl smile softly. “Can I do anything to make you feel better about...The past?” she asked sheepishly, her hands hanging awkwardly, unsure of what to do with them. “Well...The hot chocolate is going to get cold...And there’s snacks to eat and  movies to binge-watch...” he trailed on, snaking his arms around her waist, making her put hers on his shoulders. “Also...I want to make sure you’re comfortable with me, okay? I dunno what happened to you, but if it’s similar to what happened to me, I want to promise you that I will never do anythin’ you’re not okay with. I pinky promise.” Mammon spoke in a more serious voice, yet just as gentle. “I know, Angel eyes. I trust you the most out of everyone in this world. And I can promise you the same thing.” she managed to give him a proper smile, throwing her arms around him, hugging him tightly, feeling the comforting warmth of his body.

That embrace alone felt, for the both of them, like the sole safe home they ever had, and there was nothing that could break this dream-like state they were in. There was no negativity and no bad thought going through their mind, as the warmth and love of the hug was enough to disperse of any pest lingering and purging their sanity.

When they finally got the courage to let go of each other, fearing that they would disappear from this serenity state, they cuddled together in bed, drinking the now room temperature hot chocolate, eating so many snacks that they resembled Beel, and watching TSL on the huge plasma TV on the wall.

“Monnie?” Y/N raised her head to look up at him, love and admiration obvious in her sparkling eyes. “Thank you for existing in my life. I know you go through great lengths to take care of your brothers and make sure they’re happy...And I know you get hurt a lot in the process...But I really appreciate everything you’re doing, both for me and for them. I’m sure they see it too, they’re just too stupidly proud to admit to themselves...As usual.” she chuckled, reaching to hold his hand and intertwine their fingers together. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re the best. I’m really happy you came to talk to me...And I’m really happy you’re here with me. I love you.”

[ktheist]

muses. brother’s best friend / housemate / touchy!yoongi

min yoongi was everything you hated in a man. clingy, sleeps too much and sloth-y. if anyone had eyes, they’d know that you’re a clingy hug away from committing murder on campus.

“hey, pumpkin,” a dead weight snakes around your shoulders and a hand wraps around your wrist, directing the fry you’re about to pop into your mouth to his mouth.

“what the-” venom drips off your words.

“babe, i missed you!” jennie whines, wounding her arm around min yoongi’s friend, who happens to be her boyfriend.

in fact, your world going down a wayward spiral started with jennie’s secretive ‘i’m texting a boy, he’s kinda cute!’ to a full out ‘i’m dating kim taehyung!’ a month later. and with that, came the grueling begging of her trying to get you to agree to go to dinner as a ‘her friends meets his friends’ kind of thing.

you thought to put up with it once but for some reason, after a few hang outs too many, min yoongi has come to calling you a ridiculous nickname and putting his hands on you whenever he sees you.

“they’re so in love, aren’t they?” the boy next to you snickers while his free hand snakes down to your thigh.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

the whine that slips out of his mouth doesn’t bring you satisfaction even if you’re the one who opt for pinching his hand with all your might.

he looks at you, eyes looking like the midnight lake, sparkling with moonlight, “my hand slipped. did you have to pinch me that hard?”

“oh hey, lisa,” hoseok greets your blonde haired, doll-like friend, “we’re having a match with xxx university, you wanna join?”

at the mention of the long standing rival of your uni, lisa’s delicate features break into that of an angel of death, “the fuck? they have the nerve to fuck with us? that-”

“oh wow, she’s fired up, isn’t she?” yoongi chuckles, his breath fanning your cheek.

you still your hand from coming up to fan your face. why is it hot all of a sudden?

“yeah, her ex-best friend goes there and they’ve been competing against each other in dance ever since,” you say plainly, not realizing it’d spark a different kind of fire.

a loud smack echoes in the air as you look at the hand on the table and up at the owner of said hands, “we were never friends! let alone best friends!”

“o-oh yeah, my bad, you and your non-best friend’s been trying to take each other down since you both left high school,” you lean backwards to widen the distance between her hand and your face but consequentially, you end up leaning into min yoongi who gladly welcomes you into his arms, locking his hands together over your chest and trapping you in a hug.

“so, you guys gonna practice before the match?” yoongi’s ask is what makes her snap her head at the man happily munching on her meal after she had her attention averted to a certain non-best friend.

“hobi, we’re gonna practice till our limbs feel like falling off,” and with that, she drags the man away, his whines and begging to finish the (her) food falling on deaf ears.

for the briefest moment, things seem to have calmed down. that is, until you turn your head to the smiley boy clinging onto you like a koala.

“what? i saved you from lisa’s wrath.” he states, as if sensing your own wrath coming to surface if he doesn’t-

“get off me,” you order, glaring daggers at the boy.

“make me,” he smirks, the gummy smile now gone and for some reason, your heart’s beating too fast than your body can handle.

“seriously, what’s wrong with you? jimin’s right there, why can’t you go and cling onto him? at least he’s your friend. i barely even know you,” you sigh, feeling his arms loosening around you yet your chest is the one clenching as he drops his gaze.

“___, you’re breaking my heart,” he bumps his head to yours, those dark brown eyes glinting with a sort of deviousness that you know will do you no good if you hang around him any longer, “especially when we’ve kn-”

“my class is starting in ten.”

he doesn’t stop you when you stand up, his arms slipping away from your body like withered vines on stone wall.

that’s the last you see of min yoongi. well, until you’re walking out of the ecology club, fist smacking against that sore spot on your shoulder as you trail behind your club mates. the meeting about the outdoor event to raise awareness on carbon print ended a little later than you thought it would and by the end of it, everyone’s like a walking corpse.

“i thought you’d never come out,” a voice husks from behind you as your body freezes and your heart jumps to your throat.

“what the fuck, min yoongi?” you glare at the gummy smiley boy who doesn’t seem to bear an ounce of guilt for causing your soul to astral project into oblivion.

“did i scare you?” he chuckles, “don’t worry, johnny won’t get you as long as i’m here.”

“johnny?” you feel your eyebrows coming together in annoyance rather than confusion.

“you know, the ghost that’s living in the ecology club room,” he raises his eyebrows twice as if insinuating something.

you scoff.

“oh yoongi, you’re been waiting for ___?” jisoo waves from a few steps ahead, “you guys going back together?”

“no- wait-” you’re about to run after your friends when an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you to a warm body.

“yeah, drive safe guys!” the boy waves, smiling that stupid smile until the car’s out of sight.

placing one hand on his chest, you push him away from you until you’re at least three feet apart, “seriously, why’d you have to wait for me? i could’ve gone home on my own.”

“what do you mean why? because i wanted to see you sooner,” he grins, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on top of your head.

“w-what the hell,” you fumble with your words, turning away as your cheeks flare up with warmth, “let’s just go,” you say, holding onto yoongi’s pinky finger and dragging him with you.

you get home before 10 o’clock despite yoongi’s whining to take the longer route home along the river.

“oh, you’re back? whew, i was worried there for a sec,” seokjin’s voice rings throughout the house as he greets you from his room, “but i shouldn’t be since yoongi’s with you. it’s lucky you guys got into the same uni.”

“i could’ve gone home with my friends,” you say almost sulkily, glaring at the boy who’s walking towards his own room as if he’s ready to black out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

“yoongi, you’re not gonna have dinner?” seokjin asks.

“nah, i’ll sleep first.” and with that, the door of the room across from your brother’s clicks shut.

“he really needs to get his sleep schedule fixed,” the older man shakes his head whilst you place the plate of fried rice seokjin made into the microwave.

“let him be, he’s a grown man, he can take care of himself. you cooking for him is more than-” you can’t even finish your sentence when seokjin’s fast padded footsteps crosses the hallway and to the kitchen. hands shaking your body more than an earthquake could.

 “___, do you... do you really see yoongi as a man? are you guys dating?!” seokjin’s concerned gaze bores into yours, offering you no escape unless you answer him.

“no? i mean, he’s grown - we all grew up, seokjin, we’re in uni,” you say in a matter of factly. every once in awhile, seokjin gets a wake up call that-

“oh thank god,” he envelops you into a bear hug, “i thought my baby sister was interested in my best friend.”

well, guess that wake up call just got pushed back.

you suppose you get where seokjin’s coming from. just three little kids with mismatched ages growing up together in the same neighborhood. you climb trees together, scrape your knees falling off the swings and treat each other to health.

but it was seokjin who introduced you to yoongi. back then, whoever knew whoever first, got the first friend privilege. it was just some dumb rules the kids from the neighborhood came up with. and everyone wanted to be friends with min yoongi who had the chubbiest cheeks and the cutest smile. but seokjin always prided himself to be yoongi’s best friends and the latter never denied it. in a way, the two of them had a sort of bond that nobody could touch, let alone break.

something like brothers for life kind of thing.

because of that, min yoongi had always been your brother’s best friend. 

“___, you’re not asleep yet?” a voice rings from behind you where the hallway to your bedrooms lie.

“i’ve got some club stuff to settle,” you say, not away from your laptop as you sit on the spot between the couch and coffee table. an energy drink a few inches away.

“you’re always so busy,” tresses of soft hair tickles your cheek as a head leans on your shoulder, the warmth of another body making you all warm inside.

you sigh, a smile playing on your lips. at times like this, when min yoongi’s barely awake - there’s no way you can push him away, is there?

“you’re the one that has too much free time on your hand,” you say, shaking your head.

the sound of the tapping keyboard fills the otherwise silent room. you thought he’d fallen asleep with his head on your shoulder.

“...you...” he murmurs under his breath, “...i like you.”

your cheeks heat up, body instinctively recoiling from the body that’s leaned up against you as if - as if you’re just realizing that min yoongi is, in every sense of nature, a man.

a shirtless man, at that.

it wasn’t unusual to see him and your brother walking around shirtless since there’s not much to see. but you’ve always known yoongi’s not half bad, he’s got some underlying abs from those days of playing basketball in high school and he’s in the basketball team in uni.

so why are you getting all embarrassed seeing a shirtless min yoongi stare up at you like he’s waiting for you to say something that will make him or break him - now?

x

note. a little skit from my fried brain. hope yall enjoyed!

[sugarcubetikki]

why are you in my friend’s clothes?

Summary: Firstly, Chat Noir has had a bad day. Secondly, why the hell was Ladybug in Marinette’s clothes?

Notes: Wrote this little one-shot to celebrate 500 followers (more like 561 now) but tysm! I literally don’t even know how I have these many-I swear most of the content I post is like random shit. But thank you! I really appreciate it so here’s a treat : D

P.S. THIS IS POST MR. PIGEON 72

AO3

Adrien Agreste was shaking with that feeling of utmost disappointment, that feeling he had harboured getting used to. 

Once again, that was another dreary, awful day that he was drowning away into oblivion through a warm lactaid beverage.

He chugged his flask of milk under the thick layer of clouds that masked the ethereal twinkle of the stars embedded in the night sky. Huffing frustratedly into his warm woollen scarf (the only worthwhile present his father had gotten him), he lounged lazily on the rooftop in solitude.  No Ladybug there to brighten up his world even in the murkiest times. 

But it was fine. It was fine. She really needed it. Being guardian was weighing down on her. He understood that. She could miss as many patrols as she wanted.

He still really missed her though.

Restlessly, he sprang to his feet and languidly leapt across the rooftops, the cold rush of the wind pounding in his ears. But he didn’t really care. He was used to that too. 

He took little sips from his flask at regular intervals between each jump. It was solace to all the unpleasantness that was swirling within him right now. 

At about the fifth jump, when he was chugging down some milk, quite a strange sight caught his eye.

It was Ladybug.

And she was on Marinette’s balcony.

In a polka-dot bathrobe with a towel wrapped around her head. 

What?

He choked a little, and the milk in his mouth sprayed out, accompanied with some rather loud coughs. And it seemed that he had caught the fair lady’s attention.

Her eyes widened and her face blazed red at his presence. Lips spreading into a sheepish smile, she waved reluctantly. He simply stared at her with his mouth agape. A blur of questions bursting into his head.

“M-milady?” He leapt to Marinette’s balcony, landing right in front of her. As he met her eyes once again, he noticed the large pair of glasses perched on her nose. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh! Hi! Hi, Ch-chat!” She squeaked, her voice an octave higher than usual, an uncannily wide smile, and her arms splaying all over the place. “I-well-you see… I’m here to relax, you know. Marinette and me…w-we’re friends! Yeah. We’re friends.”

“You are?” He arched his brow.  A painful pang struck his heart. He just didn’t know what to say…when she said, she couldn’t make it, he wasn’t really expecting this. He expected her to be busy with guardian stuff or something. Not that she shouldn’t relax! She totally should! She was completely allow-

He just didn’t know. 

He didn’t really know why he was upset. He just was. He didn’t expect her to be on Marinette’s balcony like this. And that…didn’t make him feel so good…

“W-w-well. Y-you s-see. My kwami loves sweet stuff! And M-marinette pretty much lives in a bakery. So, I come here often to get snacks for her! Absolutely.” Ladybug replied frantically to his question, and took a long sip into her mug of…hot chocolate?

He bit his lip and looked her up and down again. She was in Marinette’s clothes. Why was she in her clothes? He had the most insane hunch gnawing at the back of his head. He could just say those couple words now. But he didn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet, so he went…

“Did she lend you her clothes?” He asked stupidly, slurping into his flask of milk, gloved hand perched on the railing. 

“I-oh-yeah. Yeah, she did. Like an hour ago or so, she’s not here now though. Went to her best friend’s place for a sleepover…hahaha” Amidst her rambling, Ladybug reached out to place her own hand on the railing. Mere inches from his own. He had the urge to reach out and caress it under his own. But with everything in his head, he lacked boldness in the moment. “Sh-she was nice enough to…you know.”

“I know.” A smile glittered onto his face. “Marinette’s incredible.”

For no reason, Ladybug’s face grew a brighter shade of red at that compliment. One that wasn’t directed towards her. But he chose not to question it, and instead turned to the murky sky, his mind whirring for a surreal joke to cover up all the awkwardness. After all, he didn’t really have anything else…valid to say.

“Do you- “

“I’m really- “

They simultaneously say, voices overlapping over one another, making them stop and stare at the other sheepishly.

“You go first.” Ladybug said, fidgeting with a loose strand of her hair.

“No, milady, I was about to crack a stupid joke.” He tells her with a gentle smile. “I’m sure whatever you have to say is far more important.”

Hesitantly, she stared at him for a moment, with doubt plastered in her eyes. He widened his smile at that, letting her know it was okay. Satisfied, she reciprocated his smile, and her uncertainty faded away into amusement. Playfully leaning in, she hooked her arm around his own.

“Thank you, kitty. Make sure you reserve the joke for later.” She bopped his nose affectionately. “You know I love them.”

“Good for you then, you’re never getting rid of this clown of a partner who’s crazy for you.” He played along with a wink.

Eyes filling with joy, she lightly chuckled and took a sip into her mug of hot chocolate. Making her laugh always filled this sense of pleasure within him.

“So…” she continued. “I just want you to know that I’m really sorry for bailing on you today at patrol…I-I j-just I didn’t mean to intentionally h-hurt you or anything. It’s just th-that I needed some time to myself…to relax…and by relaxation, I didn’t expect myself to be a mess on a-uh-civilian’s balcony. It…well…just happened.”

Her apology caught him off guard with a little gasp. But he was able to compose himself and gave her a brighter and even more genuine smile than before.

“I-thank you for apologising, milady. I appreciate it and I do understand.” He shot her a gentle glance taking a sip into his flask. “I have to admit…I was hurt by seeing you here but I…I felt better when you apologised. I mean it when I said I really appreciated it.”

A mixture of surprise and shock filled her face, his genuineness had her stunned, but it was short-lived. Her face melted into a very pretty smile and it made her face shine even more brighter under the golden glow of the balcony light.  

He really was glad that she had apologised though. If his father was in her place, he would’ve ignored it completely and turned the blame on him, saying he was too sensitive for feeling hurt over something so trivial. 

Like he’d done today when Adrien found out that his Chinese lesson had been cancelled and neither Nathalie nor father had informed him of this. He’d sat there waiting for his teacher for ages. He didn’t even know it was cancelled until dinner when Nathalie told him.

It was one of the few days his father sat to have lunch with him. And the only thing Adrien had done was express his disappointment on how he missed walking home with Marinette today unnecessarily. 

His father wasn’t amused. And had said that he shouldn’t be feeling hurt over missing such trivial events. Of course. Spending time with a friend was so trivial to father. How could he have forgotten? 

It hurt. It wasn’t fair. It was these evenings that hit him with the constant reminder how difficult it was for him to have fun.

That’s why he really appreciated that he was spending the last hours of the day with his lady. Where most of his fun moments lay.

“You’ve got a milk moustache.” She chuckled and leaned in to wipe it off with her gloved hand. “There you go.”

“I am a cat.” He playfully remarked, raising his shoulders in pride. “This is how we cats drink milk. Milk moustaches are the best way to go.”

“I’m not a cat but I do agree with you.” She said with a spark of confidence in her eyes. Her competitive self took a large gulp into her mug of hot chocolate. Upon lowering the mug, she grinned triumphantly with a thick layer of brown spread above her lips. 

“That’s naughty.” He reached to wipe off her moustache. “You got one intentionally.”

“It was still bigger than yours.”

“Still intentional.” He pouted in faux annoyance, and she laughed, her hand automatically coming to rest on his chest almost to contain herself.

As usual, there went the freezing of his breath and rapid beating of his heart. Something about Ladybug that he would’ve never expected in the start:  she was a very touchy person.

Sure. She laid all hands off him during akuma attacks and when she was in an all-business mode. However, it was moments like these where she would open up, where he got to see more of the girl behind the mask. And he really treasured these moments.

Her laughter came to a halt and her eyes focused on her chest. Fingers crawling up to play with the ends of his scarf, she gazed at it quite fascinatedly. Too fascinatedly. 

“I-is that Adrien’s scarf?” The words bluntly slipped out of her mouth.

“Wh-what? A-adrien?”

“Uh-“She sprang away from him, seeming startled that she had said that out loud. “I-well-you know-that looks like Adrien Agreste’s scarf!”

“I-uh-well- “He tensed and looked at her with wide eyes. There was no way he could reveal his identity like this. “I-I-borrowed it from him! You know! Just like you did from M-marinette!”

“Ah- “Her mouth flapped open and closed a couple of times. “Th-that m-makes sense.”

The bluenette turned away with pursed lips and speechlessly stared ahead.

“Yeah.” He replied in relief. Good. No identity prying questions. Now, she wouldn’t know he’s Adri-wait a minute.

“H-how did you know this was Adrien’s scarf?”

Her head merely turned to him with a dumbfounded expression and she heavily blinked.

“I-well-I recognise the stitching! You know! I’m good with this kind of stuff-very into fashion-and he wore it a couple of times when I saved him you know!”

“I- “He didn’t recall wearing the scarf anytime around her. Had he? He wasn’t sure. She had saved him as Adrien plenty of times. He didn’t remember everything so maybe…it was plausible. 

“Oh…okay then.” He simply said. “Looks like we’re both wrapped up in clothes lended from a civilian friend, right?”

He wanted to bonk his head onto the railing right then and there. Stupid thing to say, Agreste.

“Y-yeah.” She replied uneasily. “F-from civilian friends.”

“Marine-Oh!” Another voice shook the tense atmosphere, both heroes turned around in alarm.

A surprised Alya Cesaire greeted them as she peeped out from the trapdoor. 

Hold on a second.

“Alya?” He questioned in shock. “I thought Marinette was at Alya’s place for a sleepover, but if she’s here then- “

He suspiciously arched a brow at Ladybug. Her eyes widened for the umpteenth time that night and she blankly looked at Alya.

“A-alya! W-what are you doing here! I th-thought M-marinette and y-you were meant to be at a sleepover at your house! Right?” Ladybug mimicked a dramatic tone of surprise. But he wasn’t falling for it. 

“Ah…right…you se- “

“I think I know what’s going on.” He cut Alya off. The two girls hastily exchanged frantic glances.

“Look, Chat- “Ladybug commenced. 

“I know she didn’t tell you bu- “Alya began to explain at the same time.

“You’re dating Marinette and Alya’s the only one that knows.” He cut both off. Feeling relieved to finally let go of that hunch. 

“What?” Both girls yelled flabbergasted.

“It all makes sense! You’re on her balcony! In her clothes- “

“It’s not-it’s not what it looks like-I-wait up-you’re in Adrien’s clothes?” Ladybug paused in a frenzy realisation. “If you’re saying me being Marinette’s clothes means I’m dating her, is that confirmation that you’re dating Adrien?”

“What! No-I-you didn’t deny it.” He took a step forward and pointed accusingly at her. 

“That’s not the point!  You’re the one who’s dating Adrien.” She reciprocated his body language. 

“Well, you’re dating Marinette.”

Brows narrowed with competitive expressions. They stood toe-to-toe with Alya giving them a what-the-hell look.

“I’m not even going to get involved in this…” Alya facepalmed and disappeared under the trapdoor.

“You’re not denying it!”

“You’re not denying it either!”

They bickered back and forth about the whole dating chaos, taking swigs from their beverages every now and then, from the way they argued, it was almost like they were drunk on milk. The clouds began to clear the sky, and the moonlight began to cast a lovely glow on the city.

“Look…to resolve this…let’s never talk about this night again, got it?” Ladybug concluded, taking one last sip into her mug. 

“Fine.” Chat raised a hand in surrender, sipping onto his own flask. “I have to make my leave anyway.”

“Okay.” Ladybug huffed. “Have fun seeing your boyfriend!”

“Well…you have fun seeing your girlfriend, milady.” He fluttered his eyelashes playfully. “I’m sure she’s just as nice, pretty, and talented as you said.”

“I never said tha- “ 

“See you, milady!” He cut her off again and leapt away on his baton, catching one last glimpse of an adorable pout on her face.

It was nights like this that always brought a smile onto his face even on the most miserable of days. And that’s exactly why he loved spending time with her.

Despite the whole situation with her thinking he was dating-well-himself. Ugh. 

Wait a second…

She was dating Marinette.

The multitalented, insanely kind and endearing Marinette.

Oh crap. He was screwed. 

[wandsandwheezes]

Till You Make It | F.W | CH5

Fake It | The Masterlist

Warnings // SMUT 18+, Hufflepuff!Reader, implied sex, teasing, lingerie, relationship, consent, sexting??

a/n // So im posting this one a day early as there is a chapter 5.5 coming out tomorrow which is pretty much just pure smut <3 once again i have to thank @starlightweasley​ my partner in crime for being my muse while writing this!!

When Fred left that evening after dinner, the under-the-table events still plagued your mind as you threw your head back against your pillow out of desperation. Fred made it very hard for you to concentrate on anything other than him or the feel of his fingers. Substituting his hands for your own didn’t help either, you fell asleep with your lips parted in half pleasure and half agony from missing the man who had been plaguing your thoughts. Chest heaving, shivers running down your spine and fingertips moving only left you breathless for him. You thought that maybe that desperate feeling would leave you when you woke the next morning, to be left in the night but as you walked to a day of appointments, your mind was truly somewhere else, somewhere with him. Each fleeting thought as you hem a skirt or completed your seams only brought you to feel his hot breath fanning against your skin or his stupidly delicate touch, having to take a deep breath just to pull you back to the reality that he wasn’t right there, he was across the street no doubt laughing and joking away like the memory of last night wasn’t plaguing his every thought. 

You were far from the truth. He wanted to storm into your shop like the first time he kissed you, hearing only your choked back moans like a sweet symphony in his brain. George tried to get his attention, only holding it for a few moments before he was distracted again. Fred was meant to be stacking shelves, but the sight of a current Gryffindor quidditch player donning their sweater made all of his thoughts of you race back. 

<< Morning, doll x

>> Fred Weasley I hate you.

<< No kisses? What have i done :(( x 

>> You left me frustrated you absolute git

<< There’s no reason to call me that, petal x

<< I could’ve left you much worse off x

He watched as the typing bubble flashed up on the screen before disappearing a few times. Smirking to himself as he locked his phone, pushing it into his pocket knowing full well what he’d done. You were sighing to yourself as you sipped on the now lukewarm coffee, tapping out the perfect message to retort back at him, but nothing seemed to fit, no matter what you say he would have the perfect witty response to chime back. It hit you, if he wanted to play games you would play along.

>> Wanna see the set I’m working on Freddie? x 

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, as he pushed a box of spare products onto the shelf in the stockroom. He checked the message only to feel his heartbeat about to burst out of his chest as it raced that bit quicker. He was alone but the thought of anyone just walking in or catching a glimpse of the picture on his phone drove his feet to his office as he tapped out his message to you. 

<< I’d love that xx

You smiled to yourself as you laid out the garment on the table for him, making sure that it was smoothed out to perfection before snapping the perfectly innocent picture to send to him. You knew that he was expecting more skin, a lot more skin in fact. In his head he was about to receive a tempting photo of his girl, for his eyes only. 

>> (1)  Attachment.

He tapped open the picture with shaky fingers, unaware of what to expect when the image flashed up on his screen, eyes gazing over the lacy fabric not on your body but on the worktop. Tease. He quickly realised what you were doing, huffing to himself as he let his head fall back against the headrest of his arm chair. If you kept up this teasing to and fro you’d drive each other mad by the end of the night.

<< Why don’t you put it on for me, petal? xx

Two hours had ticked by since his last text to you. He found himself checking every notification, praying it was you, even considering sending another message but he stopped himself. He tried as best he could to focus on his work; taking stock, doing orders and serving customers.  Another hour had passed and still no response. He couldn’t ignore the friction in his boxers at the mere thought of you, mind running wild once again, his thoughts alone pulled him through to lunchtime when he could finally see you. 

The way he stormed into the shop, seeking you out in the back room, eyes dark with hunger as he stared you down made your heart flutter. His brow was furrowed and he looked like a man who was starved. You liked the effect that your little charade seemed to have on him, biting the inside of your lip to stop you from smiling. 

“I don't find your little game funny, love." You simply cocked an eyebrow up at him before continuing with your sewing, the whirring of your machine filling the thick sexual tension in the air. There was an undeniable chemistry between you both, that was visible from the way you latched onto each other so quickly. You loved to see this side of him, less dominant but yet so desperate and needy.

“Uh huh,” you hummed nonchalantly as you pulled the material in the right direction, sending the machine whirring once more. Giving him the silent treatment was enough to send him wild. The sound of your machine muffled his steps as he drew closer to you, gentle touches over your exposed shoulder sending shivers along your skin. Your body wanted to give into him, let him have you right across your desk right here and now but the game was all too fun. 

“The silent treatment, really doll?” You looked up at him with a smile as he uttered those words, your hand moving to hold his, pulling yourself up from the chair to fall into his hold, staring up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. You pushed yourself up onto your toes to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, breathing in the calming scent of his cologne and you did so. 

“Didn’t you like the lingerie, Freddie?” you asked him innocently as you bat your eyelashes, he leaned in to try and kiss you properly but you quickly pressed a finger to his lips, pushing him away cheekily as you giggled.  

“Buy me dinner first at least.” 

And he did, he bought you several dinners in fact. You made sure to dress up nice for him, let him get hot and needy before making him wait. It had now been a month of torture for the poor boy, letting him get by on no more than kisses and a few lingering touches. You wanted him to feel that same way you felt after the night at Lee’s. You swore he would’ve stopped you by now, out of pure frustration but he continued enduring his own torture just as much as you continued dishing it out.

Being invited to watch the Star Seeker’s last game of the season and coincidentally the last game before her wedding, filled you with pure joy. You invited Fred, not that he needed inviting telling him that it would be a nice date, to which the smitten boy agreed. You held hands in the stands as you both cheered alongside George, who was beaming with pride, listening to Lee commentating the game over the arena speakers.

“You know Freddie, this reminds me a lot of our Hogwarts days... I miss being up in the commentators box, it had a much better view, though for what I was looking at, I think I’m in the best seats now.” You leaned up to press a kiss to his ear as you spoke, causing him to chuckle as you moved to press your lips to his, only to be met by his finger against your lips as he mimicked how you had treated him in your shop all those weeks ago.  

“Just one kiss?” You pouted at him as he pulled you into a kiss, your heart leaping. Here Fred was, kissing you in front of everyone; his friends, family, press and every soul in the stadium but he didn’t care. The whole world could watch but he could only ever focus on you. 

It had been a week now since that event, Fred was still on edge with all of the teasing, he had grown to expect It now, waking up to a cheeky message or a voicemail, That was if he wasn’t waking up to your arms wrapped around him. He was smitten by this point, absolutely enamoured by your very presence, he would do anything to make you smile.

“Joining Lee and I tonight, Freddie?” George asked with a small knock to his brother’s office door. He pondered on it before it struck him. If Lee was out, you were all alone, the thought made his heart skip a beat. The days you’d both stopped yourselves, making out like teenagers on the bed before realising your best friend was only in the other room always seemed to kill the mood. 

“You know what, I don’t think I should be mixing with alcohol… A month sober and all.” Fred pled a fair case to his brother, a feasible enough excuse over the want to have a night with his girl. Even that sounded nice in his head, you being his girl. George nodded, suggesting a dinner instead, to which Fred shook his head again with a small laugh. 

“For the love of god, go out, get smashed and please get Lee laid… he’s driving me mental.” George nodded, laugh falling from his lips as his hand reached out to pull the door closed behind him as he went to leave, mumbling a small ‘noted’ and gesturing a salute from behind the glass.

As the evening fell, the rain came with it - a light dreary drizzle and not heavy downpours but still rain nevertheless. You managed to beat the raindrops before they fell, returning to what you called home to strip off the day’s work clothes. Between appointments you’d finally managed to finish and perfect the gorgeous red set that you had started working on all those months ago, discarded on your dressing table as you pulled on a fresh pair of joggers and Fred’s sweater which he had let you keep in all this time, grateful for the company of his scent as you realised this may be the first time you had been alone in the night since you’d left Joe. 

A knock at the front door made your heart pound out of your chest. Half of you wanted to ignore it but the curious half wanted to see who it was. Peeping through the looking glass to be met with the messy ginger locks you loved so much prompted you to pretty much swing the door open and jump into the unsuspecting boy’s arms, your legs wrapping around his torso. 

"Hi handsome, thought you were going out with George and Lee?" You peppered kisses all over his face as you held his face in your hands, fingers splayed against his cold skin yet his actions were more than inviting. You soon found your back pressed against the wall, soft quick kisses soon replaced with deep, passionate ones, lips locked together as if your lives depended on it. His foot kicked the door closed his hands keeping your thighs in place as he asserted his dominance over you. 

"I wanted you. Fuck, I've wanted you for weeks now, doll." You moaned and hummed against his lips with every kiss. It was electric the way his fingers touched you, everything from the cool sensation of the wall against your back to the heat of his shallow breaths fanning against your neck. You were nervous, wanting nothing but absolute perfection with the angel you cared so deeply about. 

Fred really was an angel to you, he helped you feel like a person again. 

“Please say something,” Fred whispered, forehead now pressed against your own. You hadn’t realised just how deep in thought you were until he spoke again, you could have swore you heard his voice crack ever so slightly as he uttered those words of vulnerability. You nudge your nose against his with a smile that leaves a reassured sigh escaping his lips just before you move once more, pulling him into another kiss, immediately feeling him relax as he closes the space between the both of you, effectively trapping you against the wall. 

“Isn’t it obvious that I want you too, Fred?” He chuckled, holding your weight in his arms as he carried you through the halls to your bedroom. He pretended to drop you twice, both times you hit him on his chest, laughing together in the most gorgeous way, creating a harmony of giggles. Each time he feigned your fall from his arms, droplets of rain fell from his soaking hair onto your face. 

“Oh yeah? Obvious is it?” His large hands gave your ass a playful squeeze before placing you on the bed. You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, pushing his wet hair back and out of his face. You caught how his eyes stared so lovingly at you, feeling butterflies in your stomach as he gave you his signature toothy grin. You stand from the bed, grabbing a towel that was hooked over the door to dry his gorgeous ginger locks. 

"Sit down, let's get you dried." He blushed as he sat down on your mattress, tilting his head up towards you ever so slightly as you find your place between his legs while his hands rested gently on the backs of your thighs and you swore to yourself that you had never felt such fireworks linger upon your skin as they did with Fred Weasley. Those hands you had admired for so long, those hands that gripped onto his bat tightly during your school years and hit away bludgers and all had you swooning as you gripped the towel. You draped the towel over his head, giving his hair a rough towel dry and letting your fingertips press against his scalp gently through the soft fabric. When you left him to go and hang the slightly damp towel up once more, his gaze caught a glimpse of something bright in the corner of his eye. Upon further inspection from afar, that something bright was a beautiful red lace that had been thrown on your dressing table in a moment of relief after you had finished it. He stood, making his way to them out of curiosity, his fingers taking hold of the soft lace, immediately recognising the feel and the pattern. His breath hitched, gazing upon the sensual piece that had nonchalantly been draped upon your dresser, his gaze hadn’t left the fabric and he hadn’t even noticed you were staring at him with a lingering look in your eye, your heart beat beginning to pick up once more and this time it wasn’t because he was pretending to drop you.

"It's the material you first kissed me on." You pointed out, holding your hands together in front of your stomach that was now experiencing somersaults and that familiar feeling between your thighs welcomed itself once more as you swallowed thickly. 

"I know… Is this for m–" 

"Yes." 

"Put it on then, petal. Do it for me." You could have sworn your cheeks were as red as the lace he was handing you, gripping onto the soft fabric with shaky hands. This was far from how you could have ever imagined your first time with Fred to have come about, a rain-soaked boy showing up at your door and taking your breath away with his kiss. The months of teasing were finally catching up and you had to take a moment to process it all as you retreated to your bathroom. Part of you wanted to change in front of him but more of you wanted it to be a surprise and if you were honest to yourself, part of you needed a moment before you faced him. To look at the reflection of a woman you hadn’t recognised in a long time and say ‘it’s okay’ because it was okay. This was Fred… it was Fred and you, no one else. 

There was something different about the way you pulled the straps onto your bare shoulders, the way your hair frames your face as you dressed. A smile spread across your lips and you blushed to yourself, how long had it been since you had felt like this? Something like this was truly paradise felt on earth amidst the darkness you had long been suffering within. Joe wasn’t here, you reminded yourself as you exhaled and glanced towards the door and you felt reassured by your inner thoughts. 

He had begun to pace about your room as he waited for you to return, feeling an unfamiliar wave in his stomach. Never in his life had he been nervous about intimacy with a woman, but when it came to you he couldn’t help the fluttery feeling that consumed him with every step. Fred had to remind himself that it was you, not anyone else, not Cherry, his exes or one of his lame one night stands. Lastly, it wasn’t the woman he had been pining for ever since he could remember… the one who chose his brother instead of him. It was a woman who he truly felt something for, a something that he didn’t want to ruin. He hadn’t even noticed your return, staring out of the window as he was consumed by his own thoughts. Your arms snaking around his waist as you pressed yourself into his back, snapped him away from his feelings of nerves and self doubt because he had you there. 

“We still don’t have to do this, you know.” You whispered softly as your cheek pressed against his damp t-shirt, his hands coming to cover yours, giving them a reassuring squeeze as he let out a deep exhale. He didn’t have to worry around you, he didn’t have to fear that it was Cherry’s touch masked as yours. He knew that it was you in the way he could have sworn your hearts beat together. There were no words that could have ever described the way you made him feel. 

“I want this.” he mumbled, as he shook his head, mostly at the way a leech like Cherry still was able to plague his thoughts in his most vulnerable moments. Turning in your arms, your eyes meet his face which is plastered with a deep smile, biting the inside of your cheek when you realise that you are stood half-naked but pressed against the fully clothed man. Against the man who had plagued your daydreams years ago and now your thoughts at night. He took your hand in his, stepping away for a moment before lifting your arm over your head to make you twirl in front of him. The sight of you took his breath away, solidifying the thought in his brain that you truly were a goddess. Fathoming that you were his to kiss and hold made his heart race out of his chest.

“You’re beautiful.” He managed to only just choke out the compliment as his other hand found your jaw to pull you into a kiss. Nothing had ever felt so right to him than the crave of intimacy with you right now, you let him guide your bodies, your skin now flush against the cool sheets while he leant over you. Standing up briefly he pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his toned torso that made you feel weak, counting yourself lucky that you were laying down otherwise you would have surely buckled at the knees. 

Fred knew that the minute he had the opportunity to, he would take his time in worshiping every dip and curve of your body, no matter how long or tedious the process was. His hot open mouthed kisses started at your jaw, it was intoxicating to feel him mumble praise between each kiss, telling you about just how breath-taking you were to him and how much influence you had on him. His kisses along your neck left marks not to claim you but to show you just how much he cared without having to say the words. His lips travelled down to pepper kisses down the valley of your breasts, his slow pace made you grab his face with both hands.

“Don’t be a tease, Freddie.” He chuckled, his hands wrapping around your wrists, pulling them away from his face so that he could press a sweet kiss to the insides of your palms, the hint of a smirk hanging off his lips as he did so. His fingertips grazed over your skin as they ran down your arms, sending goosebumps firing over your skin. His laugh sent every good feeling of pleasure through your veins. His hands went to his belt, immediately he thought of all the ways that this could go wrong, the image of your pained expression and the way you cried into his chest sinking his heart once more. He pondered for a moment before he asked, hardly above a whisper, ‘do you want to?’ before gesturing to the belt buckle. 

You felt your heart stop, remembering how you had stopped yourself going this far before, feeling a sense of calm fall over you as you reached to undo the belt buckle. You knew that this gesture alone was enough for you to realise that Fred really did care about your comfort, he wanted you to feel as if you were in control of the situation, not forced or pressured but completely at your own free will to pull away or stop but you didn’t. You slowly unbuckled his belt and pulled it from the loops before setting it down on the bed, smiling up at him. 

“No more teasing, yeah?” You nodded, pressing your lips to his again as your hands found the back of his head, giving the now damp hair a gentle tug. 

No more teasing. 

taglist //  @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @pansydaisy @vogueweasley @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @darthwheezely @thisismynerdyself @witch-and-a-half @loony-loopy-lupinn @rip-us @hopemalfoyweasley @pigwidgexn-deactivated20210125 @softlyqoos @colorfulprofessornickelangel @fandomscombine @satellitespidey @txtdreamss @aaannabbanana  @starkidpotty @mollydarling-hphm @amwithers2001 @asthmax @sarcasticallywitty15 @whizboingies  @rosietoesy

[helaintoloki]

Could you do Ben + 11 for the holiday prompt list pls? It just sounds super cute 😍

a/n: i loved writing this sm and i hope you guys enjoy it ♡

warning: language, lots of fluff

*11: getting each other as your secret Santa // taken from this prompt list

You couldn’t help but feel nervous as you stood on the front steps of Allison’s home with your neatly wrapped gift held tightly to your figure and waited for someone to answer the door. This was to be your first Christmas with the Hargreeves siblings since you were children, and you hoped you’d be able to keep up with infamously chaotic super family. You also hoped that the person you’d drawn for secret Santa liked their present; it was safe to say you’d be crushed if they turned out to be disappointed by the gift you’d so meticulously chosen for them.

The door swings open and a gleeful Klaus greets your meek figure in the doorway. Adorned in an ugly Christmas sweater that reads Merry Xmas Fuckers and equipped with a glass of eggnog in hand, the seance eagerly tugs you inside and scolds you for not having come in sooner.

“You poor little thing, just standing out in the cold like some lonely orphan,” he says dramatically, draping an arm over your shoulders and guiding you into the living room where the rest of the siblings reside. You take a moment to admire the lavish Christmas decorations that adorn the house and make a mental note of Allison’s decoration skills— her house was warm and inviting and big, and the best part about it was that it was all hers. She prided herself on the fact that she’d earned it on her own, without her powers, so it was only natural that she make a display of grandeur in her home for the holidays.

“Y/n!” Allison exclaims with a smile the moment you enter the room. Her excitement pulls all attention towards you, Diego and Luther ceasing their quarrel over the last candy cane and Five and Vanya looking away from George Bailey on the tv screen. Ben is nowhere to be found. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Of course,” you reply with a meager smile, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“You can put your present under the tree over there, we’ll be doing the gift exchange after dinner,” she chirps merrily.

“Umm, so where’s Ben?” You try to ask as nonchalantly as possible while setting your gift down in the designated area— the much larger boxes and elegantly wrapped presents make you insecure about your own— but the knowing smile she gives you tells you that your attempt to be discrete has failed.

“In the kitchen. You should go see if he needs help, something tells me he might be struggling,” she laughs, and you take that as your cue to venture off to find your friend.

You make sure to smoothen out your top and pat down any stray hairs before curiously peeking into the kitchen, and a smile pulls at your lips at the sight before you. A frazzled Ben stands in front of the counter skimming over the stained pages of a holiday cookbook. His clothes would be absolutely ruined if not for the frilly apron with Mom embroidered on the front tied around his torso, and despite the cheerful Christmas music playing from the speakers the poor thing looks absolutely stressed.

“You doing okay in here?” You ask with a quiet laugh, your heart skipping a beat at the immediate relief present on Ben’s face when he sees you.

“Please help me,” he begs. “I’m a terrible cook and I have no idea what I’m doing yet somehow I was put in charge of baking the gingerbread men.”

“Alright,” you giggle, standing beside him at the counter to look over the recipe, “lets see what we’re working with here.”

Ben, relieved to have you here, is now anxious for a much different reason. You’re close to him, so close that every time you reach across the counter for an ingredient your arm grazes against the sleeve of his sweater. The soft jingling of your bracelet and the sweet smell of cinnamon that emanates from you makes him dizzy in the most pleasant way, yet he says nothing. What is he to say? That he’s in love with one of his closest friends? A friend that he’s shared with his siblings since they were kids? No, it would make things weird, and Ben didn’t want it to be weird, at least not anymore weird than it must be to have a man with tentacles that protrude from his chest be secretly in love with you.

“You’re quiet,” you note with a small hum, and Ben is impressed to see that you’re already beginning to cut the shapes of the little gingerbread men into the dough. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, no,” Ben rushes, “just looking forward to the gift exchange is all.”

You say nothing after that due to the nerves that arise at the mention of the secret Santa event, but Ben takes your silence as satisfaction in his answer, and so you both continue to bake with only the sounds of the speakers to fill in the quiet space.

“Okay, present time!” Allison cheers only to be met with a chorus of sluggish groans. After Ben’s short lived panic the cookies had been baked to perfection and all was set for a lovely dinner. Allison and Diego were amazing cooks, but almost everyone now felt too full to so much as move a muscle. Klaus had taken to the couch and was half asleep watching old Christmas cartoons, so to Allison’s dismay it seemed the gift giving would have to wait.

Seated on the floor in front of the tree, you find your gaze shifting from the group in front of you playing cards to Allison and Five who clear off the table and then back to the gifts in front of you. All seem to glimmer underneath the lights, and despite the fact that such a sight would normally bring joy to anyone who looked upon it, you couldn’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of giving your gift to your assigned person. Maybe if you had gotten someone like Vanya or Luther you wouldn’t be so nervous, even getting Five would have been better than who you had. The stakes were higher because- well, because when names had been drawn and you’d eagerly unfolded your scrap of paper you’d been terrified to see the person fate had chosen for you: Ben.

It wasn’t Ben you were terrified of. No, not at all. It was your feelings for Ben that scared the living daylights out of you and made you wish you could turn invisible whenever he so much as breathed in your general direction. You’d been in love with him since the time chocolate milk accidentally shot out of his nose at Griddy’s when Klaus bumped him just a little too hard, but so many years had passed and nothing had ever seemed to happen between the two of you. You grew up, grew apart, and for a few years you didn’t hear much from him or his siblings for that matter. But then Reginald passed, and Pogo surprised you with an extended invitation to the funeral— he felt that your presence would be good for the children— and suddenly you were back in each other’s lives.

Ben was a friend, a good friend, and you knew each other better than you knew yourselves. You knew that his nose always scrunched when he was angry, and he knew that if you began to fiddle with whatever jewelry you wearing in the moment it meant you were nervous. There was history, and to ruin a friendship like that purely because of your own selfish desires would be a disaster. You couldn’t do it, it didn’t matter what Allison said or how you felt, you would settle for being his friend and nothing more.

So lost in your own tangent, you don’t notice said friend standing before you until he gently clears his throat and gives you a sheepish smile in return for your surprised features.

“Hey, you...?” Ben says, visibly cringing at the awkwardness of his tone. “I was thinking of getting some fresh air, do you want to come with?”

“Oh, y-yeah,” you smile sheepishly. “Sure.”

“Cool. I’ll grab your coat for you.”

You watch his figure disappear, your stomach twisting in knots as you contemplate your next decision, and before you can change your mind you quickly grab his gift from underneath the tree and hide it from view as best as you can. You know Allison wants to open gifts together, but you’d prefer giving Ben’s his in private. At least if he’s disappointed you can save yourself from the humiliation.

Ben is already waiting for you outside on the front porch, and with a careful smile you quietly sit beside him and stare out into the night sky. The stars twinkle brightly overhead, and you find yourself subconsciously checking to make sure the moon is still intact. It’s been a chaotic year, but you’re glad to be nearing the end, and you’re glad to be here with Ben.

“So um, I know we’re supposed to exchange gifts together, but I couldn’t wait,” you say, and Ben is pleasantly surprised to see you pull out a neatly wrapped gift. “Merry Christmas from your secret Santa, I guess.”

“No way,” he laughs softly, “that’s crazy.”

“What’s so crazy about me being your secret Santa?” You retort with mock offense only for him to grin.

“Nothing,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “except for the fact that I’m kind of your secret Santa, too.”

“Wait, what?”

You look at Ben in shock as he carefully pulls out a small, neatly wrapped box from his sweater pocket and delicately rests it in your lap. There’s a bashful smile on his face and a red dust on his cheeks, but you decide to chalk it up to the cold air outside. Nonetheless, a disbelieving laugh leaves you at the sight of your gift.

“What a pleasant surprise,” you giggle.

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I asked you out here. I also wanted to give you your gift in private, maybe make it a little more personal. Do you want to open it?”

“You open yours first,” you interject, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. Ben laughs.

“Alright, let’s see,” he says with a small smile. Your stomach is full of nervous fluttering as you watch Ben carefully tear away the wrapping paper before opening the box. His eyes light up in surprise when he sees the inside, and you hold your breath as he carefully pulls out the contents. A smiling pink sea monster meets his eyes and the Horror can’t help but to laugh at the sight of it. “Is this...?”

“It’s exactly the same as the one I lost when we were kids,” you reaffirm with a bashful smile. “I always felt so bad about the fact that you let me have it only for me to lose it, so when I saw it I knew I had to get it.”

A smile brighter than the sun curls upon his lips, and his eyes almost seem to sparkle underneath the moonlight as he pulls out the second item in the box. With a softer gaze now, Ben stares down at the frame in his hands and feels his heart begin to swell. A familiar photograph, one of his personal favorites in fact, from your childhood rests behind the glass, and when Ben looks to you his eyes are glossy with tears.

“I love it, y/n,” he says gently, immediately pulling you into possibly the tightest hug you’ve ever received. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” you reply, relief immediately washing over you at his reaction to your gifts. However, the butterflies persist, and you have to remind yourself that Ben is your friend and nothing more.

“Now open yours,” he says excitedly, his eyes never once leaving your face as you unwrap your gift in the same skillful manner Ben had used for his own.

A velvet box greets you underneath the colorful paper, and with a gentle prodding from Ben you slowly remove the lid to reveal a beautiful gold locket underneath. A small gasp leaves you as you look from the necklace to Ben.

“Wasn’t the spending limit like, forty dollars??”

“Oh hush, open the locket!”

Carefully taking the necklace out from its box, you gently pull the heart shaped hatch back from its place to reveal the exact same photograph you’d gifted Ben in the frame.

“You’re kidding,” you breathe out with a laugh. “The same picture?”

“Great minds think alike, right?” Ben jokes, but there’s a fond look upon his face as he looks at you. “I just really wanted you to know how much you mean to me, because you’re really important and I just... I really love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, and as Ben looks at you with hopeful eyes you decide that life is too short to let fear hold you back. Setting the box down beside you, you scoot closer to Ben and take a deep breath.

“I have one more present for you,” you say, prompting Ben to peek up at you curiously.

“What is it?”

And on the front porch of Allison’s house with the stars shining bright above you, you kiss Ben Hargreeves for the first time.

[harrysweasleys]

The Name of the Game

Request: Would you do a George Weasley imagine where at a party he gets jealous when his crush who’s Golden Trio’s Slytherin friend has to kiss Draco Malfoy during a game of spin the bottle but it turns into anger when he finds out that Draco charmed the game to get her, even though the reader can’t stand Draco?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: i had a lot of fun writing this! requests are open and gif isn’t mine! x

-

George Weasley was a lot of things. He was confident, he was brave, he was bold, he was a troublemaker, and he was smitten.

When George first saw you, donned in your usual emerald Slytherin gown, he noticed how your H/C hair fell in lose strands around your face, how the shimmer in your eye as you giggled with your friend seemed to draw him in, and how your dazzling smile took his breath away.

But, naturally, due to his pride and the fact that you were indeed a Slytherin, he forced himself to completely push you out of his mind. It was hard, you did end up having a few classes together — which made George wonder how he’d never noticed you before.

And so he tried to ignore how you looked in the light of the setting sun in the Great Hall during dinner, or how pleased you looked when receiving your grades in different classes, or how you hid your laughter behind your hand when George and his twin pulled off another successful prank that no doubt also ended with a pissed off Filch.

But all that ignoring became quite difficult when you became friends with Harry and Hermione, eventually ending with you befriending Ron as well. You’d hang out with them in the library, come to talk to them at their table in the Great Hall, and you even cheered on Gryffindor when they were playing Quidditch — when Slytherin wasn’t their rival, of course.

“She’s different from other Slytherins,” Hermione defended you when fellow Gryffindors would talk about how befriending a Slytherin was a betrayal of house pride.

So, all in all, George found it hard to keep you off his mind. Not that he minded, really. He found you the prettiest person he’d ever seen. But at the same time, he had never actually spoken a single word to you. Fred had absolutely adored teasing him about it, but all in all, George was determined to make himself known to you.

So, one day, as you were standing over Hermione at lunch time in the Great Hall, the two of you deep in conversation about the Arithmancy assignment you had been given, Fred whacked George over the shoulder with a smirk.

“Oi, it’s your secret girlfriend,” Fred nodded his head in your direction, causing George to roll his eyes and smack his twin right back.

“Shut your face, you git,” he spat back, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks as the two made their way over to the empty seats between Ron and Ginny.

As George took his seat, he looked up at you and flashed you a kind smile, which you retaliated. His heart lept and he had to look down at his breakfast plate to keep himself from grinning at you like a fool.

“Mornin’ Y/N!” Fred grinned at you, elbowing his brother harshly in the ribs.

“Oh — hi,” you smiled back shyly, “Good morning, I mean.”

Fred squinted his eyes at George, who was glaring at him to the point where he could feel his eyes burning into his own. But, George remained silent, picking at the breakfast sausage that was on his plate with a sulky expression.

“Y/L/N, fraternizing with the enemy again?” you jumped back at the sound of Malfoy’s voice, and George took immediate notice of how tense your body became. Clearly some Slytherins weren’t fond of Malfoy either.

“Just because they’re your enemies, doesn’t make them mine, Malfoy,” you replied cooly, crossing your arms and turning to face him with your nose held high, “If you had no other intention than to come here and tell me off, I would much rather you save your voice.”

George’s eyebrows shot up as he watched you stand up to Malfoy, who they had all tried their absolute best to avoid in all their years of schooling.

Malfoy didn’t respond, but he shot a glare at Harry and Ron before stalking off to the Slytherin table.

“Anyways,” you returned to your conversation with a softer voice, “I’ll see you later in class.”

Hermione bid you a good day and returned to her food, before you came rushing back over with a frantic expression, “Oh — almost forget, we’re hosting a party in the Slytherin common room tonight. One of my fellow Slytherins, Blaise Zabini, he’s just been arranged a marriage so we’re celebrating. He’s pretty happy about it. And I don’t think he has a problem with you all so you’re welcome to come.”

Your eyes flickered to George before looking across to the rest of the gang, hoping they’d accompany you to a party you didn’t feel like going to.

George felt his heart flip. This could be a chance to talk to you. He nudged Fred in the knee, and his twin flashed a wicked grin.

“Course we’ll be there,” Fred smiled at you, “Georgie and I never miss a party.” Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny all agreed to accompany you as well.

You grinned, your eyes twinkling, “Perfect. I’ve heard you two boys know how to liven a party.”

And with a quick wink in the direction of the twins, you walked gracefully back to the table of your house.

“If you don’t chat her up tonight, I’m going to be disappointed, mate,” Fred shook his head, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth as George shot him a look. It was rare he was speechless, but he found himself struggling to find anything to say in the moment, the butterflies fluttering violently in his stomach as he thought of the events that might unfold.

— —

The Slytherin common room was more packed than you had ever seen it. There were people from loads of different houses, each wearing casual clothing and making them all indistinguishable. The fireplace was roaring and the windows were open, letting a fresh breeze roll through to manage the temperature.

As Hermione led the way in, followed closely by Harry and the Weasleys, they were immediately overwhelmed by the sound of music and the heat of so many bodies.

George wore a casual long sleeved shirt with a little logo on the right chest pocket, and what he called ‘his best pants’ — which were really just a pair of old black jeans. As soon as he stepped in the room, he thanked his genetics for making him so tall as he could easily crane his neck around the room in search for your familiar Y/C/H hair.

And he spotted you almost immediately.

“Oh! It’s Luna! She never goes to these things — I’m going to say hi,” Hermione pushed her way through the crowd and disappeared. Ron followed after her, and Fred made his way towards the snack table where he aimed to hide a few Skiving Snackbox treats. George, however, was glaring down the Slytherin boy you were currently speaking to.

He had his hand on the wall near your head, his face way too close to yours for George’s liking. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling stupidly jealous, it’s not like he’s ever even spoken to you.

“Just go, mate,” Fred gave George a shove and sent him tumbling into the crowd, muttering apologies for bumping into a group of Hufflepuffs by the fireplace. He made his way straight towards you, his heart pounding loudly, and stopped as soon as your eyes locked on his.

“Oh — hi, George,” you smiled up at him, turning your attention away from the dark haired Slytherin boy who stalked off now that he has lost your attention, “You came!”

“Of course,” George grinned despite the nervous flutters in his heart, “It’s a lot busier than I expected, to be quite honest.”

You giggled, looking around the room with a curt nod, “It always turns out crazier than expected. Zabini really wanted to go all out, says it’s like his — what do muggles call it — Bachelor party.”

George raised his eyebrows and moved closer to you and out of the way of the crowd so people could walk by without stepping on his feet, “Does he even know half of these people?”

“Doubt it,” you replied, lifting your hand to push your hair out of your face, “And neither does the bride. In fact, she doesn’t even go here. She’s from Paris.”

George nodded, not sure what to say. He didn’t even know Zabini, so the wedding information didn’t mean much to him.

“I noticed Fred spiking the snacks,” you smirked up at George after a moment of silence, “Knew you guys would make this interesting.”

He felt his cheeks turning pink, but brushed it off with a confident grin, “If you knew that, why’d you never invite us before?”

He felt a surge of pride as a blush rose to your cheeks, and you let your hair fall back over your face to hide it, “Can I be honest? You guys are a little intimidating.”

George’s eyes widened, “Are we now?”

He was quite pleased you had paid enough attention to him to even be intimidated. Not that that’s how he wanted you to feel, but it was better than nothing.

“Yes!” you chuckled, swatting at his arm to rid him of his proud smirk, “I never know when you two are lurking about a corner, ready to drench someone or give them a nosebleed nougat.”

“You even know the names,” George’s smirk widened, “Nicely done. But don’t worry, stay on our good side and you won’t have to suffer.”

You laughed, tossing your head back, and George thought it was the prettiest sound in the entire world. He would listen to you laugh all day if given the chance.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“HEY! GAME TIME!” Goyle stood up on a table, waving his hands to get everyone’s attention. George, wanting to hex him for ending his conversation with you, turned to face him with a scowl.

“Oh, boy, this always happens,” you groaned, “They pick some lame teen game to play and someone always ends up either hurt or heart broken,” George nodded at your words, “It’s usually Parkinson. She’s in love with Malfoy, you see.”

“Wait — hold up,” George whispered back to you with a shocked tone in his voice, “There’s a person out there who loves that git?”

You covered your mouth to hide your giggle, “Apparently. Didn’t think it was possible.”

George shook his head, a bewildered expression on his face, and turned back to face Goyle, who had now silenced the room with his cry for attention.

“The man of the hour, Zabini, has chosen spin the bottle!” he announced, a creepy grin on his overly round head. George could feel you sulk from next to him, you head hitting the wall with a disappointed thump.

“Again?” you groaned, “We played this last time.”

Before George could respond, a familiar head of platinum hair pushed through the crowd and appeared in front of you, “Spin the bottle, huh? Always a good game if you want to impress someone.”

George had no idea what Malfoy was trying to get at, but by the look on your face, he had probably tried this before.

“Or a bad one if you want to get away from someone,” you quipped back, squinting your eyes.

George could feel the strange tention between you two, and he had a strong feeling that Malfoy’s likeness towards you was one sided.

“Right — you left last game,” Malfoy nodded his head, “Right after Crabbe spun it and it landed on you.”

George coughed to cover his laugh. He could only imagine how furious Crabbe was to be rejected publicly like that.

“Well, give Crabbe my apologies. I didn’t feel like kissing a slug,” you gave Malfoy a sarcastic smile and grabbed George’s hand, pulling him over to the circle and away from the blond, “Sorry about him. Do you want to join?”

George could help but think about what it would be like if he played and got to kiss you. He had been wanting to make a move for quite some time, and sure, this wasn’t the best way to have a first kiss, but he couldn’t think straight right now. Your hand was intertwined in his and you were looking up at him with such a gentle smile, he couldn’t help but give in.

“Sure.”

So the two of you took your places around the circle, sitting next to each other. Only about twenty people had decided to play, Fred and Ron were seated across George, and Hermione and Harry were watching with judgemental eyes from the other side of the room.

“Zabini, since it’s your party, you go first,” a Slytherin girl spoke up, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger and batting her eyelashes.

Zabini grinned, spinning the bottle quickly. It landed on Alicia Spinnet, a girl on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who shrugged her shoulders and leaned over, meeting Zabini’s lips with her own. Wolf whistles made their way across the group and both of them looked slightly flushed when pulling away.

George could feel how tense you were, and had to admit even he felt slightly out of place himself.

Alicia spun it next, and ended up kissing Theo Nott from Slytherin, who ended up kissing Pansy Parkinson.

Eventually, Zabini spoke up and requested that Malfoy — who he called his best friend ever — got a turn. As he leaned forward to reach the bottle, George tried to ignore the bubbling jealousy as Malfoy shot a wink your way, his eyes lingering on you.

And sure enough, after Malfoy spun the bottle, it landed on you.

George felt his blood boil, and he could see the uncomfortable expression on your face without even looking at you.

“Great,” you muttered, pulling your sleeves down and hiding your hands, a nervous habit George had noticed you do in class.

“You don’t have to kiss him,” he whispered to you, hoping to ease your consious.

“That’s the point of the game, isn’t it?” you asked grimly, leaning forwards to the eager Malfoy. You pressed your lips to his quickly, pulling away before either of you could register the kiss happened. George looked away, his heart skipping beats and his hands becoming clammy.

This was torture.

Malfoy pulled away and sat back down, smirking proudly. While you, on the other hand, were back to hiding behind your hair.

“Your turn to spin, Y/N,” Zabini slurred, “Get it!”

You leaned forwards, spinning the bottle quickly to get it away from you. But, to both you and George’s horror, the bottle landed on Malfoy.

“Little git,” George sneered, hating this game with every ounce of his being.

George turned away as you once more, leaned towards the middle of the circle and quickly put your lips on Malfoy’s before pulling away hastily, wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

“This is gross,” you mumbled, feeling disgusted with yourself. George’s jaw was clenched as he glared at Malfoy, who was boasting about his two kisses with you.

“Spiiiin, Draco!” Zabini cheered once more. And as Malfoy leaned to spin, George’s eye caught sight of his lips moving.

The bastard is jinxing the bottle.

“Oi, Malfoy,” George caught himself speaking up and gaining the attention of everyone in the room, “You’re jinxing it.”

Malfoy glared at him, eyes dark, “Am not.”

George stood up before he could stop himself, ��I saw you.” Your eyes were darting back and forth, wondering how George knew Malfoy had jinxed the bottle.

“Did not,” Malfoy crossed his arms, “Maybe the universe just knows Y/L/N wants me.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed before George could intervene again, “That’s never going to happen. I’ve never wanted you and never will. Now, did you jinx the bottle?”

George was too focused glaring at Malfoy to notice you had been standing up next to him, arms crossed and staring down at the blond.

“Fine — fine,” Malfoy raised his hands in mock surrender, “So what? It’s just a game.”

The entire circle had now gone silent. Your fists were clenched by your sides and your cheeks were tinted red in anger. George had never seen you this angry before, but he didn’t blame you. He was furious as well.

“You — oh, you’re so insufferable!” you shouted, causing a few people sitting near you to jump, George included, “You walk with your head held high thinking everyone wants you, or wants to be like you. You’re — I can’t — just stay away from me.”

George had to admit, you had balls for standing up to Malfoy. With a furious glare, you grabbed George’s hand and stomped out of the circle and out of the entrance to the common room.

He could feel his heart pounding. Whether it was from proximity to you or because of the events that just unfolded, he wasn’t sure, but this was not at all how he invisioned this night going. He thought he’d get the chance to talk to you one on one, maybe even get the courage to ask you out, but his desires now felt selfish as he watched you lean against the wall and slide down, your hands clutched in your hair.

“Sorry you had to see that,” you mumbled softly, looking up at George who had been standing there like a fool.

“No, don’t apologize,” he walked over and sat next to you, bringing his knees to his chest, “That was horrible. I’m sorry he did that to you.”

“He’s always been like that,” you shrugged, “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Our dads were friends at Hogwarts. I know, right? Who’d want to be friends with Lucius?”

George found himself chuckling, and with a small jolt of bravery, placed his hand on your knee. Relief spread through his body when you didn’t pull away.

“So my entire childhood revolved around having a close bond with Malfoy. Even though he’s younger than me, and started Hogwarts after me, our parents wanted us to stick together,” you sighed, learning your head against the wall, “It wouldn’t be so bad if he weren’t an obnoxious little brat. But then, in his third year, he started making weird advances and I kept turning him down, I guess to him that was just fuel to the fire.”

“He’s really the opposite of having the whole package, isn’t he?” George smiled, “Well, at least you turned out better. And I’m sorry you have to deal with him so often.”

You smiled up at him and his heart fluttered again, “Thanks, George.”

You sat in silence for a while — although George swore his heartbeat was loud enough to echo through the dark dungeon hallway — but it was comfortable. Nice, even. George’s hand was warm against your knee and you didn’t want him to pull it away.

“Thanks. For sticking up for me, I mean. You didn’t have to. And sorry for dragging you out with me. I just didn’t want to be alone, I guess.”

You met his gaze, and it was like you had never seen him properly before. His freckled cheeks were a tad rosier, and his brown eyes were so warm and welcoming, your heart did a summersault just by looking into them.

“Don’t apologize. I wanted to be with you,” he spoke softly, looking down at you before his eyes widened, “I—I mean, you know, you’re good company.

“Smooth save,” you smirked, noticing for the first time how close his face was to yours. He smelled like cinnamon and... was it chocolate? You weren’t sure. But he smelled good.

George, looking down into your eyes as well, picked up on the faint peachy smell of your perfume and the way your hair framed your face perfectly, capturing your face like a photograph.

In the moment, it felt as if you two were alone in the entire school. No dark, murky hallways, no looming school assignments, no party going on on the other side of the Slytherin common room entrance. Just you two.

“I like you,” George sputtered out, blinking rapidly as if he hadn’t planned on saying it, “I wanted to be cool about it but I kind of failed.” And it was true, he hasn’t planned on saying it. But as he looked down at you, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell, and he knew he’d be hitting himself over the head if he didn’t sieze the chance right now.

You, on the other hand, felt your breath leave your body as tingles made their way up your spin. He liked you. George Weasley liked you. It felt surreal.

You had noticed how cute he was before, even finding him one of the most charming guys in school, but you didn’t think he’d think of you as anything more than ‘Hermione’s Slytherin friend.’

“I thought you were cool,” you giggled, leaning closer to him, “You’re always pretty cool.”

And before any of you said another word, his lips were on yours. He was much gentler than you thought he would be — he always seemed to have such a loud presence. But his lips were soft, moulding against your own as if they were meant to be.

His hand left your knee and found it’s way to the back of your head, pulling you even closer as your lips remained connected.

George was over the moon. He had thought about what it would be like to feel your lips moving against his, to have your hands tangled in his hair, your body pressed against his. But nothing could have prepared him for the actual thing.

His heart was hammering violently against his chest and he swore every inch of his body was on fire, burning. The only thing grounding him to reality was the pinch of your hands in his hair, the soft touch of your lips on his own, and the intoxicating smell of your fruity perfume.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from you to catch his breath, thinking that that was probably the best kiss anyone’s ever had.

“Well,” he breathed out, “this party did end up going better than I though.”

-

[haikyuu-appreciation-club]

•Closer to You•

Sugawara x Reader

warnings: like one curse word

genre: fluff

word count: 1.8k

Just an fyi, this oneshot was written for one of my friends and modified so that anyone could enjoy sooo if there are some parts that you don’t relate with i apologize, lets just try and use our imaginations pls + ty. anywhooo enjoy lovelies <3

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Sugawara had been dating for a little while now but hadn’t really gotten the opportunity to have a proper first date. Both of you were busy with school and extracurricular activities so your schedules didn't really allow any room for spending time with one another. You knew Suga felt bad so you constantly tried to reassure him that you were content with the current flow of your relationship. However, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss his company. You supported him whole heartedly. Always showing up to all of his games no matter their importance and cheering for him no matter how much time he spent on the court. Even so, despite the swelling pride you felt in your heart as you watched him pursue the sport he loved so dearly, you couldn't help but wish you could steal more of his time. 

Despite you painting that pretty smile on your face and telling Suga that you were fine, he knew better. To be completely honest he missed you too. He loved volleyball but he loved you so much more. He had been in love with you for years now but only recently had he been able to muster up the courage to confess. Never in a million years did he expect you to accept his confession so when you did he was stunned to say the least. None the less, he was over the moon that you reciprocated his feelings, but it seemed that ever since you two made it official, time was not on your side. This is why he proposed that this weekend you would have your first official date. You two weren’t big on things like dinner dates and long walks on the beach so you decided to have a little movie night at Sugawara’s house. You both were very excited that you would finally have the opportunity to just be in each other’s company without the stress of messing up anyone’s schedule. 

Saturday rolled around and you walked up to the door of Suga’s home. His parents had gone away on a business trip so you two had the house to yourselves for the weekend. You knocked on the door and eagerly waited for an answer, bouncing from one foot to the other. The door was pulled open, letting out a small creak in the process, allowing your eyes to meet the beautiful hazel ones you were so familiar with. You didn’t allow him time to properly greet you, already wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into your embrace. He wrapped his arms around your waist and chuckled. While still holding onto him you allowed yourself to address him, a smile evident in your voice, 

“Hi Kōshi!”

“Hey Y/N, you ready to get this movie marathon started?”

You pulled away from him as you smiled and nodded your head. He grinned and intertwined your fingers with his, pulling you inside and towards the couch. You sat down on the plush sofa, moving yourself into a position that was comfortable for you while still leaving room for Suga to get cozy as well. Suga threw you the remote as he walked to the kitchen. You cocked your head at the now empty door frame and began to project your voice to be heard from where he stood,

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Your pick tonight, sweetheart”

“You sure?”

“Positive Y/N, now hurry up and pick something before I start scrolling through the horror section.”

You shuttered. You could not tolerate horror movies. Last time you watched a horror movie was when you got invited to a sleepover at Daichi’s house with the team. You had known the boys for quite a while so hanging out all together was nothing new. However, on that particular occasion Noya and Tanaka had gotten word of your hatred for the specific genre and decided that it would be a good idea to scare the shit out of you. This resulted in you huddled up in Suga’s arms for the rest of the night, not allowing yourself a wink of sleep in fear the memories of the film would fill your dreams. Safe to say, you were not too keen on interacting with the two the morning after.

Quickly sifting through the different titles, you decided on a Disney movie. You didn't really know what type of movies Suga was interested in so you thought settling on something that was enjoyed by a wide variety of people would be the best choice. Setting the remote down, you took in the atmosphere of the room. It was very serene, as was the rest of his home. There weren’t many pieces of furniture littering the room but the pictures on the wall made up for any feelings of vacancy. Your eyes scanned each frame, smiling to yourself as you took in the happy memories that were on display. However, there was one picture in particular that caught your eye. Suga couldn’t have been any older than three as he stood in his bathtub, butt naked might you add, hugging his mother around her neck and soaking her in the process. You let out an audible laugh as the boy in question reentered the room.

“What are you laughing about?”

Suga set down the bowls of popcorn and candy as he turned to look at the picture you were pointing at. His gaze settled on the frame and his cheeks heated up, a hue of red now painting them out of embarrassment. He sunk into the space beside you as he buried his face in his hands and mumbled,

“I knew I should’ve taken some of those down.”

Your laughter filled the room once more as you pried his hands away from his face,

“Don’t worry about it Kō, I think it’s cute.”

He looks up at you and melts. The way your soft eyes meet his, slightly crinkled at the corners due to the beautiful smile tugging at your lips. You body was slightly turned, facing him, giving him a perfect view of his wonderful lover. In that moment, he fell in love with you all over again. Cupping you’re cheek and planting a kiss in the middle of your forehead, he picked up the remote to start the movie. 

He leaned back and wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you snuggle into him. You two stayed like this for a few movies. Occasionally letting out a laugh or humming the tune to a familiar song. However as you peered up, you noticed that Suga’s facial expression seemed bored. You could tell that he had grown tired of the childhood films and if you were being honest, you were growing tired of them yourself.

You wiggled out of his grasp and reached for the remote. Suga was watching you with a slightly confused expression as you paused the movie and stood up.

“Bathroom break? Need me to refill the snacks?”

You smiled at his motherly antics as you reached your arms to the ceiling,

“No babe, just stretching. I am getting a little bored of the Disney movies though, can we watch something else?”

He hummed and grabbed the remote, exiting out of the movie and returning the the main menu,

“Sure my love, what do you got in mind?”

You sat back down and returned to your original position, leaning up against him once more,

“I heard that volleyball game was on tonight, wanna watch that?”

You watched as his eye lit up, the boredom that was stitched into his face had been replaced by pure excitement that you could tell he was trying to contain. After a minute though, his expression faltered slightly as he looked up at you,

“Are you sure that’s something you wanna watch Y/N? It’s a little different then seeing my games in person. I don’t want you to be confused or get bored.”

You sighed and poked the middle of his forehead, trying to relax the concerned expression that he held as you smiled at him.

“Yes Kōshi, i’m sure. Besides, i’m sure you could tell me a thing or two about what’s going on anyways, i’d like to learn more about volleyball.”

His excited expression returned as he nodded and grabbed the remote, quickly switching to the channel that the game was airing on.

You sat there in his embrace and listened as he talked to you about the game. Truth be told, you knew what was going on. You’ve played volleyball before and even though you were definitely not the most skilled player you didn’t exactly need Sugawara explaining it to you. However, you couldn’t break that news to him. He looked so overjoyed to be talking about something he loved most with the person he loved most that you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt. So, you sat there with your head rested on his shoulder as he spoke. Slowly but surely, his soft voice pulled you deeper and deeper into sleep. The events of the night had tired you out and although you tried to stay away until the game concluded, you ended up drifting off.

Suga didn’t realize you fell asleep until he noticed you were no longer responding to his commentary with nods or soft hums. He peered down at you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as breath flowed in and out of your slightly parted lips. He smiled at your sleeping figure as he slowly got up, being careful not to wake you with his movements. He slid one of his arms behind your back and the other underneath your knees as he picked you up, bridal style. He carried your silent form to his bedroom, carefully pulling back the blankets before placing you down softly. Suga discarded his shirt, placing it into a hamper as he turned off the bedroom light. He slowly climbed into bed with you and wrapped one of his arms around your waist, the other resting underneath his head. He buried his face in your neck, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

All felt right in that moment, the world stopped and all that he knew was you. As he drifted off to sleep he thought about how lucky he was to have you in his life, he wanted to get to lay down next to you every night for the rest of his life. So before he was pulled into his dream land, he had to let you know,

“I love you Y/N.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[aiimaginesbts]

Eternal Summer (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: Loads of Angst | Fluff mixed in between | Smut | Childhood friends to lovers AU Warnings: Language | Alcohol | Masturbating | Rough sex | Public sex Word Count: 39k+ words

Disclaimer/Copyright

Summary:  Breaking up with my boyfriend leaves an empty spot on the overseas vacation that I had been looking forward to for a long time. I’m torn between abandoning the trip or going it solo when someone offers to tag along. However, having Jimin, my best friend go with me may not be the best idea — since my crush on him has never gone away.

Author’s Note: This is my fic for the ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ writing event hosted by @jamaisjoons​ with ‘Go sightseeing on a vacation’ as my prompt.

This grin just can’t be wiped off my face. While I’m aware that people passing by me are shooting me weird looks thanks to my humming, I don’t want to stop for their sake. I can barely hold myself from skipping down the street, lined with leafy trees on one side and boutique stores on the other – I’m that excited. The merciless rays of the late sun are welcome on my skin after weeks of slaving away even more than usual at work just so I can enjoy this long awaited vacation. It has completely paid off, since I’ve managed to settle everything I needed to with one day to spare. Everyone – myself included – expected me to be toiling away until the last minute. I even packed my luggage in advance, little by little, whenever I could, since I didn’t think I would have time to do it. So, with everything ready and time to spare, I head towards the only place I could think of going when I don’t know what to do with myself.

After making a stop at Se Hoon’s favourite restaurant to order take-out for dinner, I continue on my way towards his apartment. Since I plan to make this a surprise visit, he might still be working. Still, another glance at my watch convinces me that he will definitely be at home. Se Hoon prefers to work from home, so unless there’s work that he must settle at the office, he’s usually home by this time, even if he has to continue working there. It might mean that I’ll be shooed away while he finishes, but I don’t care. I’m content to just watch him as I eat my dinner. As long as I’m with him. We’ll be going together on vacation the day after tomorrow, but there’s no harm in starting early, is there? Plus, I’ve been too busy to see him lately. And the few scant times I could manage to get some time off, he would be busy instead. It seems like we’ve been missing each other for a while now, and I just miss being with someone.

Another fifteen minutes of walking and an elevator ride to the eighteenth floor later, I arrive in front of Se Hoon’s dark brown apartment door. I hesitate, wondering if I should let myself in or announce myself first. It has been a while since I’ve arrived here on my own, but recalling the times he got grumpy because he was interrupted to open the door for me way in the beginning of our relationship, I pressed the keys to unlock his door. No sense making him stop whatever he’s doing and come for me when I can open the door on my own.

Although I’ve been telling myself that I’m perfectly happy just to be in his presence this evening, my lips purse into a disappointed pout when I notice a pair of unfamiliar women’s black pumps at the entrance. It’s rare for Se Hoon to have visitors to his house, other than myself, but I suppose it’s safe to say that he isn’t done with work. At least his co-worker is willing to come over, so he doesn’t have to stay in the office. Otherwise I’d have arrived at an empty house.

Not wanting to interfere with his work by calling out, I kick off my similar, but lower, heels next to hers and start making my way inside. It has been a while since I’d had time to visit, but the surroundings are pretty much the same as I remember it from last time. Neither of us are the type of people to periodically arrange furniture, or make any changes at all, for that matter. Some people may find it boring, but I’m comfortable in its familiarity.

However, just a few steps in and my eyes land on an unexpected sight. A dark blue tie, adorned with a tiny white diamond pattern, lying on the floor. Se Hoon’s tie. I remember giving it to him for his birthday several months ago. Then a light pink shirt that I don’t recognise – I don’t pride myself on knowing Se Hoon’s wardrobe inside and out, but this shirt is way too small for him. My feet slow to a stop, but my breathing becomes laboured; like I’m running a marathon. Even though I scream in my head in denial, telling myself to turn around and not to continue looking, my eyes betray me by straying ahead, following the trail of clothes into his bedroom.

“Se Hoon?” I call out without thinking, but my voice comes out a croak, volume barely a whisper. The world I thought I had built solidly enough is crumbling under the soles of my feet. Familiar comfort no longer.

“Looks like our plane is here.”

Although my eyes are wide open and the world is bright, blinding even; the light from the sun is relentlessly shining through the gigantic glass panes of the airport, everything looks like a blur to me. I see vague shapes moving inconsequentially in my field of vision, but I can’t make out anything. The world hasn’t righted itself after it got thrown off its axis just yet. I’m dimly aware of where I currently am, of what brought me to this point. And yet in my mind, I’m still frozen in Se Hoon’s apartment two days ago.

While words cannot describe my feelings at the moment, I’m sure whatever combination of letters that the dictionary can come up with won’t be anything good. It doesn’t help that the voice that calls my name repeatedly in attempts to bring me back to reality is noticeably higher than Se Hoon’s. No, it isn’t even that. I wouldn’t be this bothered if it were anyone else’s voice. However, my best friend’s insistence that I return to Earth and get ready to board the plane throws my emotions into a jumbled mess. Forcing myself back to the present time, the surroundings gradually come into focus, like a camera lens finally being adjusted properly. “People are still getting off the plane, Jimin,” I grumble, sinking myself further into the chair in the waiting area petulantly. Maybe I don’t want to board this airplane after all.

This empty feeling has seeped in from yesterday. After a fitful sleep, I’d gotten out of my bed to stare at my luggage, all ready and packed for the next day. I wasn’t sure what time it was then; I’d rolled out of bed onto the floor and turning back to look at the small clock on my nightstand had felt like it would have consumed too much energy. All I knew was that dawn had not even broken yet, as the light blue curtains of my room, so useless at blocking even the smallest bit of light, were still dim. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and started to trace the royal blue strips lining the white canvas, I’d thought about the times I’d chucked the things I wanted to bring into the bag. When I’d seen a shirt that Jimin had said looked good on me, I’d thrown it in there. The cap he’d bought me on a whim after he’d dropped by my office for an impromptu lunch. A pair of socks that Jimin had insisted matched with the pair that he’d bought, just because both pairs have a striped motif. Earrings that he’d helped me choose because Se Hoon couldn’t make it for our date that day. Perhaps he couldn’t make it because of that woman, and not because of work, like he’d claimed.

Hours must have flown by as I’d sat there brooding. Not even sure what I was thinking about – was it really all about Se Hoon? My mind feels empty, but I couldn’t believe that I’d just been blankly staring at the luggage in the corner of my room for so long. And yet I must have had, because when the sound of my vibrating phone grated my ears, making me jump out of my reverie, the room was already bright despite the drawn curtains.

Groaning from grumpiness and the aching of my back and ass from sitting in one spot for so long, I’d braced my right palm on the still-cool floor to twist my body and reach for my phone. “Ugh.” My fingertips had brushed against it, causing it to move forward and teeter off the edge of my nightstand. The next round of vibrations had led to a losing battle with its balance, but thankfully I’d managed to catch it before it made contact with the hard floor. The scramble to play hero to save my phone had left me on both my elbows, horizontal against the floor. By this time, the call had become a missed one. Probably gone to voicemail, but that hadn’t stopped me from glaring at the offending device.

Before I could even look at the screen properly to check who had called, I heard the sharp beeping of my front door lock keypad, quickly followed by the chime indicating a successful breach and the softer click of the door opening to the intruder. Then a call of my name greeted my ears, betraying the identity of the visitor and setting my frayed nerves at ease. In a split second, however, my shock had melted away, leaving mild irritation in its wake. At first I didn’t want to answer him. Let him search the whole place, I’d thought pettily, even while knowing that my bedroom would have been the first place he’d check, then changed my mind. “In here.”

Trust him to hear me even though I’d hardly raised my voice. His chipper, “’Morning!” had reminded me that he didn’t have a clue to what had transpired the previous evening, leaving me torn between two choices; remain in my miserable mood and risk him prying for the reason behind it, or put up a cheerful front. I’m supposed to go for the vacation I’d been looking forward to so much, after all.

In the end, my “’morning,” had come out as a sullen reply. Simply couldn’t be bothered with pretence when this guy was concerned. With my partner for the trip automatically cancelling less than twenty-four hours ago, he was going to unearth the source of my moodiness sooner or later, even if I’d pretended there was nothing wrong.

“What’s wrong?” He’d immediately quipped at my tone, joining me on the floor.

I’d narrowed my eyes at the luggage I’d refused to tear my eyes away from. Still, it was always annoying when Jimin would zero in on me like that.

“Just.”

Jimin had rested his back against the side of the bed next to me, keeping mum instead of answering. I’d always hated that he knew exactly how to handle me at times like these. Several minutes had passed as I’d stewed in silence, then inevitably worked out what I’d wanted to say, like he’d known I would. I��d let one or two more minutes go by, just to spite him, but in the end I’d relented with a resolved sigh.

He’d taken the cue to open his mouth. “Wanna grab brunch?”

Is it that late already? I’d thought, unwillingly softening just a bit more when he didn’t automatically repeat his first question. “Not now.” Holding fast onto my vast – though slowly depleting – reserves of gloominess and fury, I’d willed my stomach not to grumble just then. Under strict orders from my highly distressed brain, my stomach had cowered and obeyed, even as his question had evoked pangs of hunger. Another sigh, then, “I don’t know if I’m going tomorrow,” I finally gave in to the inevitable need to confess, if not my need to eat.

“What? Why?” He’d leaned forward in surprise. I’d wished he hadn’t. Despite not having shed a single tear, I’d had no idea what sort of expression I was making, or whether I had any control over it. Thoughts had been racing through my mind at uncontrollable speeds. Obviously I hadn’t used the time I’d had to think this all the way through. Should I tell him that I’d broken up with Se Hoon?

I hadn’t wanted to.

“Se Hoon has urgent business to attend to and can’t make it.” Ugh. Even uttering his name had made me want to spit and brush my tongue with a scrubber. Bringing my legs up, I’d buried my face in my knees, unable to bear the sight of Jimin’s brows furrowing with concern. Aside from the guilt I’d felt about lying to my best friend, the mix of emotions roiling inside me were – and still is – muddling. There was overwhelming outrage towards Se Hoon, which was not surprising. However, endless hours of pondering had made me realise that the nature of my grief was befuddling.

There had been no tears. Even after the shock of seeing Se Hoon in bed with another woman had worn off as I’d trudged all the way home, walking for about an hour instead of taking the subway, there had been no heartbreak over our failed relationship. When I’d finally reached home and collapsed on my bed, no burning tears had even threatened my eyes. Later in the shower, the only wetness had come from the metal pipes. I didn’t care about losing him. No, I’d thought, with Jimin’s presence solidifying my belief, I’m sad because I’m alone. Even when I was with Jimin – actually, because I was with Jimin – I’d felt so lonely. He made me feel hopeless. He made me feel like a loser. Especially now, I’d felt like I was worth nothing. No, I’d always felt like I was worthless when I was with Se Hoon, or with any of my other exes. That’s why I’ve always chased after a relationship. Because otherwise, I would be worth less than nothing.

It had made me all the more desperate not to let Jimin find out. Better to have him think that Se Hoon was being a jerk – which he was, and still is – by ditching me for work instead of finding out that we’d broken up. Jimin was sure to take great umbrage at Se Hoon – never mind that I  was the one who did the dumping – and would definitely demand to know the reason behind it. To tell him that I wasn’t even worth being faithful for… that would just take the ugly, miserable cake that is my life, wouldn’t it? I’d much rather die than come clean, so I’d pressed the truth as deep down as it could go, took a deep breath and turned to rest my chin on my knee, facing that frown painted on his adorably worried features.

“It’s work. You know how it is. Can’t be helped.” Tossed words accompanied by a cavalier shrug; hopefully passing it off as a small matter that I’d wanted it to appear like. There. It gave the impression that I had a responsible boyfriend, and I was being a magnanimous, understanding girlfriend. Plus, this way I could forge ahead with unloading my immediate problem to Jimin without seeming too pathetic. “But I don’t know if I want to go alone.”

“Hey, what’s the point of riding business if you’re going to zone out and queue with the people in economy?” Jimin’s irritated complaint as he swats my arm knocks me back to the present. Still in a daze, I let him grab my hand and pull me up and towards the air stewardess waiting to check the customers’ boarding passes without complaint, only having the presence of mind to hold my camera bag securely against my side. True, I was really torn between going on the trip alone or cancelling it altogether, but when I’d voiced my indecision to Jimin yesterday, I didn’t imagine that it would lead to this.

We zip past the long queue of people waiting to be allowed to board, all the way to the front. The sweet-looking stewardess takes a look at our documents and smiles, complimenting her rosy cheeks, made up carefully to look perfectly natural, ushering us in. As we stride towards the door to the aircraft, I can’t help but look at our connecting hands, then up towards his slender, but comforting back. Never in a million years would I have thought that he would actually offer to accompany me. In all actuality, ‘offer’ is too mild a word for what he did. After calling in to take a week off of work, then buying flight tickets while I’d showered, did he really think he left me with any choice?

He might have been right that not going just because Se Hoon couldn’t make it, after I’d worked my ass off to get a holiday, paid for the tickets and hotel, would be ridiculous. But I maintain that what he did in a span of less than thirty minutes – because it couldn’t have taken longer than that for me to shower – was the more inane of the two.

However, as we step inside the plane itself, past another stewardess welcoming us onto the flight, the reality of this finally starts to sink in. For the first time since I’ve become single, my face relaxes, and I can feel my whole body relaxing with it. While the cause of this current situation is unfortunate, the outcome is quite fortuitous. After settling in my window seat first, I glance towards Jimin, trying to get comfortable in the next seat over. I’m very aware that allowing myself to enjoy this, or even think about this, is idiocy of the highest degree. That it will just bring me more pain down the road. I know. Years of suffering had taught me that really well. Yet still, being the fool that I am, I don’t deny the giddiness of having Jimin come with me, instead of Se Hoon. Not to myself, at least. If it’s going to hurt me either way, might as well milk whatever joy I can get out of it, right? My future self will probably hate my current self later, so I apologise to her in advance in my head.

“Everything okay over there?” Jimin leans over the wide armrest to ask.

“Mm-hmm,” I answer simply, still half-lost in my thoughts. Sometimes I want to roll my eyes and laugh at myself. Whatever am I thinking, while Jimin is just trying to be a good friend? Imagination running wild can inject a really swift and powerful dose of euphoria, and goodness knows that my spirits need a bit of lifting, but prolonged daydreaming will not do anyone any good. Jimin is just a friend. Just a friend. Indulging in idyllic notions will just burn me in the end.

The process of achieving resolution is interrupted when the plane begins to move. It isn’t very obvious at first due to its size, but I notice it backing out into the runway. As it begins to pick up speed, I forget everything else; from depressing thoughts of being single, to silly fantasies. Turning to Jimin, I whisper excitedly; “My favourite part is coming!”

Before I can start to explain what it is, Jimin laughs and nods. “I know.”

Sitting back against the chair, I absorb the fact that Jimin remembers that I’ve told him before. It’s such a random piece of uninteresting information, but I suppose that’s what best friends pick up over the years. I’m sure I subconsciously collect seemingly useless information about him, too. Not wanting to miss it, I don’t comment any further, instead just grinning at him before shifting my attention towards the window. My heart rate picks up as the vehicle accelerates so rapidly that I feel myself getting thrown back into my seat, gaining momentum until it finally lifts itself up into the air. Sighing contentedly, I told Jimin; “It’s such a rush when the plane moves like that. Like our journey is truly starting, and we’re running towards it with all our might.” He just shakes his head with a chuckle at my childish delight. We’re already high enough that the view outside displays the landscape of Seoul city of buildings and cars. On any other day, I’d be down there somewhere. But not today. And while this may not have turned out exactly as I’d expected it to, I have no complaints about the arrangement now.

As though he’d picked up on my uplifted mood, Jimin asks jovially, “So, remind me, why did you choose to go to Malaysia?”

I remember telling him that I was the one who’d picked the holiday destination. This time, it’s not surprising that he remembers; the way my excited gushing about the trip had escalated as it had approached bordered on annoying, even I will admit that. “It’s a multicultural, multi-racial country, so there’s a diverse variety of things to explore,” I begin to explain, sounding like a tourist brochure, pause to consider, then confess. “Actually, we’re going to Penang, which is famous for having the best food.”

Even though his lips curl down, the way Jimin bites his plump lower lip and holds his shuddering body is a tell-tale sign that he’s not frowning; in fact, I know that he’s trying to hold back from laughing out loud. “Why am I not surprised?” Guffaws escape alongside his words, and I smack his shaking arms playfully.

“Shut up.” Although my pretense at affront is a tiny bit better than his attempt to keep a straight face, it’s impossible to hide the mirth dancing in my eyes. With impeccable timing, one of the stewardesses appears by our side to inquire about our choice of lunch. Ever a fan of chicken, I order without hesitation, whereas Jimin chooses pork as his protein.

“Mmm,” – is Jimin’s way of articulating the tastiness of his meal. “What’s the name of the place,” he picks up his boarding pass to sneak a peek at the name of our holiday destination before returning it into his seat pocket, “Penang food better top this.”

Of course, I have never been there, so I can’t guarantee anything. “If their food is that well known around the region, I should think that it’s better than airplane food.”

Both of us know that I’ve made a sound justification, and Jimin doesn’t have any comebacks. The journey grows quiet soon after, my full stomach encouraging my already heavy eyes to shutter closed. Our transfer in Bangkok, Thailand via Suvarnabumi Airport is a short, uneventful one, and from there, it’s a quick flight to our final destination. Watching the evening sky serving as the backdrop for the sun making a dramatic exit for the night is breathtaking. By the time we land, streaks of orange are all that remain of the sun’s waning presence, and a light smattering of stars twinkle, not to be outdone by the numerous city lights.

“So, are we going to take a taxi to the hotel?” Jimin wants to know our next move after retrieving our bags from the baggage claim carousel.

“Yep, but we won’t be using a taxi.” Armed with the WiFi device I’ve rented in advance, I breathe a sigh of relief as my phone connects to the internet successfully. Sometimes I feel a little ashamed by it, but I can’t stop the feeling of unease whenever I’m cut off and unreachable by phone. I keep imagining the worst things happening. “There’s an app people use here to call for a driver instead of using a taxi. It’s cheaper and easy to use.”

“Oooh.” As I open said app, Jimin looks at the screen of my phone over my shoulder curiously. Compared to Incheon and Suvarnabumi Airports, Penang Airport is very small, which I suppose is befitting of the size of the northern island. It makes the place seem especially busy, and we stand slightly away from one of the exits, doing our best to keep out of people’s way. There must be a lot of drivers on the app service, because one immediately takes our request. Ride secured, we make our way out of the building, looking out for a white car with the specified plate number.

Soon our luggage is secured in the trunk of the car, and we speed away from the airport. From the handy app, I find out that our tanned driver is a man named Hisyam. His fatherly manner and gentle way of speaking reinforces my instinct that he seems to be in his late forties or early fifties, a deduction I’d made upon seeing him. Our friendly responses when he’d initiated the standard questioning – where we’re from, and our purpose of coming here – encourage him to strike up further conversation. From my simple research about Malaysia before coming here, I know that being able to converse in English is enough to communicate with the locals, but I didn’t think that it would go so smoothly. I’d thought that it would be only mostly youngsters who are able to speak fluently in English, but despite his age, Hisyam sounds comfortable talking to us in the language. A comment on this from me has him explaining that many Malaysians can speak English well enough to be understood at the very least, which is a relief. It’s nice to feel so welcomed, especially since he has an eager and easy answer when I wonder where we should get our dinner aloud. “There’s a place that’s famous for its char kuey teow that’s not far from here. You have to try it!”

“Char kuey teow?” Jimin hasn’t eaten anything after our lunch on the flight earlier, and the mention of food, however foreign, quickly piques his interest.

“It’s stir-fried noodle,” he explains. “But the noodles are flat and made of rice. It’s a really popular dish around this region. I’ll drive you there first, if you want.”

Sneaking a glance at Jimin, I can see that he is also in favour of this. “Is that okay, though? Do we need to call another driver after we’re done?”

“I’ll just take some other requests until you’re done, then I’ll come back for you. There’s always people calling for service in this area,” he assures us. “This shop’s reputation is rightly deserved, I promise. So, don’t worry about me and enjoy yourselves!”

Good thing Jimin and I are able to decide on taking Hisyam up on his offer so quickly, because he really isn’t kidding – the restaurant is a mere few turns after that. It’s a place next to the large road, with most of the dining tables spread over an open space past the low fence enclosing the area of the restaurant. I suppose the cooking is done within the small building to the side of the restaurant. The tables and chairs are purposeful rather than decorative, but I know that sometimes a simple, humble place can serve better food than fancy ones. With Hisyam’s phone number saved inside my phone, Jimin and I take a seat at a table in the middle of the place. It has barely gotten dark, but more than half of the tables are already occupied by people who look to be locals. A good sign.

Thankfully the restaurant is well-staffed, and in less than five minutes, we’ve gotten our order in. “Smells good,” Jimin comments hungrily, eyeing the plates on the tables around us. I grin and stop myself from teasing him with the old ‘I told you so’ before I actually try the food. It arrives quickly, although I’m not sure if it’s soon enough for Jimin, who starts to dig in without even waiting for me. “Mmm!” His smiley eyes widen, with an extra twinkle as he swallows the char kuey teow.

If my reaction upon tasting it didn’t mirror his so much, I would have laughed at him. However, our driver’s recommendation has given us a great start to our trip – the char kuey teow tastes much better than I expected. Strips of rice noodles that look like a very thick piece of paper that had gone through a coarse shredder are coated with sauce. This dark sauce isn’t paste-like, yet not runny, either. It’s rich; probably infused with the flavours of the prawns and cockles that accompany the dish. The noodles slide down my throat easily, but chives and bean sprouts mixed in provides a contrasting, crunchy texture.

Our silence during the meal says everything about it. Neither of us are interested in talking; we’re too busy enjoying the food. Only after I finish the last bite do I come up for air to confirm what I already know. “How was it?” But Jimin can’t hear me with his body twisted away in his plastic chair. Even if he could, he’s too concentrated in his effort to attract the attention of one of the waitresses to pay me any heed.

Once the young girl has acknowledged Jimin’s call, he turns back to me. “I’m ordering another one. Do you want anything?”

Looks like Jimin had definitely enjoyed his meal. I did too, but my appetite is nowhere as big as his, so I add another order of milk tea to drink while I wait for him to finish his second plate. Less than half an hour later, we’re back with Hisyam, who is happy that his suggestion is getting rave reviews. “Your hotel is in the center of Georgetown, so it will take about thirty minutes to get there,” he informs us, explaining that Georgetown is in the northern part of the island, while the airport is somewhere down south. The three-story building that he points out sits at the end of the block, and he turns from the main road into a smaller one to let us off. He looks at the hotel in approval. “You chose a good place to stay,” he comments. “The last tourist couple I drove booked a famous hotel, but they didn’t know that it’s known for being haunted.” The corners of his lips twitch while his eyebrows scrunch in the middle, as if he still isn’t sure whether to laugh or sympathise with the poor people’s misfortune. “It broke my heart to tell them.”

“Oooooh, which hotel is it?” Pretty sure that I didn’t come across this morsel of information when I was searching for hotels to stay in, I wanted to know. However, Jimin protests, saying that he’d like to get some sleep tonight. He’s already going to sleep in an unfamiliar bed, and hearing a ghost story just before that is not going to help him sleep easier. Hisyam and I whisper conspiratorially, arranging for a private story time via message while Jimin unloads our bags from the trunk of the car.

Unfortunately for Jimin, this isn’t going to be our first disagreement for tonight. Not ten minutes later we’re standing at the front desk, arguing over sleeping arrangements while the staff looks on patiently. “I should get my own room,” Jimin insists again, his tone riding the line between firm and incredulous at my disagreement.

“Why should we?” This is not the first time I’ve said these words in the last few minutes either, but I’m unwilling to back down. “The room is huge, and,” grabbing his arm to turn him away from the listening employee, “it’s really expensive.”

“I just won’t take a suite, then,” Jimin says with finality, accompanied by an eye roll.

Truly upset now, I let my lower lip jut out in an infuriated pout. “Even a normal room is expensive, and our rooms won’t be close to each other’s, then,” I inform him. “Is sharing a room with me really that bad? I thought it would be fun. Plus, I already feel bad enough for making you come here with me without having you spend even more.” Even though I know that Jimin can easily afford whichever room he wants, even the suite that Se Hoon and I had decided to splurge on to enjoy together, I’m not exactly sure why I want Jimin to share a room with me so much. The reasoning that I’ve given him are all true. Having him spend so much money, on top of messing up his work schedule to go on an impromptu trip with me makes me feel really guilty, even if he’d done it on his own accord. I just hope that’s the main reason I’m so adamant that we share the suite, more so than the fear of having my crippling insecurity issues creeping up on me alone in the room I was supposed to share with Se Hoon.

Since Jimin and I have had sleepovers when we were kids and had even shared a tent when we went camping with friends in high school, I didn’t think he would mind. So when he’d neglected to ask which hotel we would be staying in, I didn’t bother to book another room. In hindsight, perhaps it was just an oversight on his part. He did only have less than twenty-four hours to prepare to go overseas, after all. However, if he’s this against sharing a room with me, perhaps he does feel uncomfortable about it. Sighing, I decide internally that forcing him to share when he isn’t willing would eat at my conscience even more, so I face the staff again as my hand reaches inside my bag, rummaging for my purse. “Could you give us another room? As close to mine as possible, please.”

“Fine, fine, let’s share.” This isn’t the effect that I had intended – I’m fully prepared to pay for his room – but surprisingly, this made him finally give in. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I minded.” Now that Jimin has agreed, I find myself at odds, feeling like I’d coerced him into saying yes. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I could just get another room if you really don’t want to share.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t meet my eyes. “Nah, I just thought you’d feel awkward since you’re supposed to be here with Se Hoon. Are you sure he won’t mind?”

Oh. So that’s why Jimin had put up such a fight. The realisation makes me feel a little disappointed. I guess I’m a fool for expecting something else. Jimin had never been attracted to me, after all. Why would he care about sharing a room, other than concern over causing trouble in my relationship? If only he knew that he’s worrying about a nonexistent problem. “I’m sure. No worries.” Funnily enough, Se Hoon had been the one sharing his bed with another woman while we were still a couple, not me.

“I guess he thinks I’m a robot, too.”

“What?” I’m in the middle of confirming with the now-thoroughly-confused man at the front desk that we’re definitely not adding any extra rooms to our booking, so I’m not sure if I heard Jimin’s mumblings right.

“Nothing.” He dismisses me, taking our luggage and wheeling them towards the lift, leaving me behind to take the room key.

“Hey, wait! Oi!”

“Here are your room keys,” the young man at the front desk calls for my attention, and I turn around to take the two sets of cards from him. His, “I hope you enjoy your trip,” sounds more heartfelt rather than obligatory, sending embarrassed heat to my face. He’d obviously gathered that things are not hunky-dory between his guests… wait, he probably thinks we’re a bickering couple. At first I open my mouth, automatically about to launch into my go-to explanation that we’re friends, not a couple like I usually do back home, then I close it. There’s no longer a boyfriend who might find out that someone thinks that Jimin and I are in a relationship, and Jimin, that jerk, went ahead without me so he didn’t hear it. What’s the point of clarifying such a trivial thing to a stranger in a foreign land that I probably won’t ever see again anyway?

“Thanks.” Still slightly sheepish over our argument in front of the man, I quickly scatter away towards the lift. “Thanks for waiting,” I repeat the sentiment – but this time in a very different intonation that borders on the churlish – towards Jimin when I reach his side.

“Mm.” His non-committal reply doesn’t indicate whether he missed the sarcasm in my greeting or heard but doesn’t care to respond. It does nothing to improve my mood. I narrow my eyes at him, but he carefully avoids my glare, instead pressing the button to summon the lift, then keeping his gaze locked on the red digits changing from 2 to G. His reaction jolts me away from the displeasure I’d felt when he’d left the counter without me, back to the root of our argument. Uncertainty and guilt replace my ebbing anger.

“Sorry that you had to come all the way here to keep me company,” I begin my apology by addressing the sacrifice he’d made for me. “If it really bothers you, I don’t mind taking two rooms. I’ll pay for it. It’s the least I can do, after all.”

The lift doors open just then, and Jimin goes in without acknowledging my words, dragging both our luggage with him. I follow in and press the first-floor button. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m not about to push it any further. I’ve said my piece. Of course, I’m still upset, but Jimin can be scary when he’s truly angry, and I’m not in the mood to deal with that right now. Not that I ever actually want to take on an incensed Jimin. But then, the lift has barely moved when he shifts to face me, his features not quite frowning, but nowhere near friendly, either. “Do you really not care about sharing a room with me? Se Hoon as well?”

“Yes, really.” Well, I really prefer it that way. Se Hoon doesn’t have a say in it, but there’s no reason to tell Jimin that. “No sense wasting money on another room when we’ll only use it to sleep, anyway.”

“You booked an expensive suite in a nice hotel just to sleep?” If I were still with Se Hoon, Jimin’s pointed question would have made me blush. However, all it made me think about is how Se Hoon fucked another woman two days before our vacation. There’s no doubt that there were other incidents before that that I’m not privy to. My blood boils at the thought.

“Well, right now I’d rather get herpes than touch him.” I reply acidly. Jimin might have done a lot for me, especially since I broke up with Se Hoon, but there’s just so much my self-beating, bruised heart can take. This time Jimin is the one doing the following, walking just behind me down the corridor until we reach the door to the suite. Holding the key cards up, I ask him one last time, “Are you sure about this? There’s still a chance to get another room.”

“No need, since you’re so sure,” his reply is slightly curt, but has lost most of the venom. I belatedly realise that he thinks I’m furious with Se Hoon for bailing out because of work, which must have had him softening towards me again. In reality, I’m far more pitiful than that, but I’ll take what I can get. Under his breath, Jimin mumbles again, “I’ll be sure to conduct myself like the saint you both think I am.”

The light musical notes of the door unlocking mask Jimin’s murmuring, so I only register his earlier response, taking it as a reconciliation. Opening the heavy wooden door, I fumble the adjacent wall for a switch, and upon turning it on, white light bathes the space to reward us with a very welcome sight. The entrance stretches and opens up to a spacious living room, decorated with black wooden furniture enhanced by splashes of red – small red cushions and red drawers. Simple white walls provide a nice contrast to the beautiful dark, polished timber floor. While I was looking for a place to stay while we’re here, I had seen some photos of the room, but seeing it in front of my own eyes is just breathtaking. From behind me, the sound of Jimin’s long inhale is audible as he takes it all in with completely fresh eyes.

Excited, I bounce further in towards the bedroom. On my left is a wooden door matching the ones I’ve walked through so far. The walls sandwiching it are also wooden with carvings, but the whole expanse is covered with glass. A peek through it reveals the bathroom, complete with a jacuzzi tub that had been promised in the hotel website in addition to a shower cubicle. The bedroom itself is as beautifully decorated as the living room. Majestic four-poster king-sized bed dominates the center of the room, matching the ornate tables and wardrobe well. Sliding glass doors lead to the balcony, and a large stained-glass window on the other side of the bathroom facing the bed completes the luxurious room.

“I’d be happy to just hang out here until the end of the trip,” Jimin comments in awe as he enters the room.

“I know,” I agree breathily, then compose myself before sending him a firm look. “But there’s food to be eaten.”

My honest statement invokes a helpless laughter from Jimin. “You’re not even pretending that you want to see the sights!” Just like that, all the animosity from before melts away completely. Jimin’s giggles must be infused with magic, drawing out a grin from me effortlessly every single time.

Finally, we collapse on the bed – Jimin resting completely on the left side of the bed, while I lay down partially on the side closest to the balcony with my lower legs dangling over the foot of the bed. If I let myself lay down properly, I know that it’s just a matter of time before I’m knocked out cold from the exhaustion of the journey. A bath in the tub sounds really nice, but it’s too much of a hassle for me now. I just want to sleep; but not with the day’s journey sticking to my body. After some time resting my tired muscles, I let out a loud groan and pull myself up. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Mm.” From the way Jimin lazily acknowledges my announcement, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already sleep-talking.

“Do you want to take one too, or are you just going to stink up the bed the whole night?” Poking the sole of his right foot sharply with my finger, I try to verify this with him before I lose him to sleep completely.

“Mmph.” This time he rubs his face against his pillow, perhaps in an attempt to give a more intelligible answer that fails. Opening up his eyes a crack, he asks, “Together?”

I’m not sure if he’s really lucid or not. But I refuse to let him – and myself – entertain the idea for even one minute. My honest answer isn’t good for the health of both my mental state and our friendship. “I’ll wake you up once I’m done.” Jimin responds with another vague hum that I take as a ‘yes’.

Just a little over twelve hours later, I’m sorely wishing for a nice soak in the jacuzzi tub, followed by a nice afternoon just chilling in the hotel room being blasted by the air conditioner. Jimin echoes my innermost thoughts, as if he can read them; “I swear I must have sweat out all the water in my body,” he complains. “Why did you choose such a hot place to go for a holiday? Don’t people run to cool places in the summer?”

“I think it’s the opposite,” I muse out loud. “People go to hot places to escape the bitter winter.” Right now, the freezing winter sounds good to me. It’s slightly past noon and the sun, which has been slowly creeping up on us since about an hour ago, has become downright menacing. Mentally I congratulate myself on forcing an early start this morning, despite both of us being too lazy to get up several hours earlier. The sky had just been kissed by the sun when we set out from the hotel, using the app to get another driver to bring us to Beach Street.

Despite the name, the street is a few blocks away from the jetty. We started our Penang street art hunt here. The UNESCO World Heritage Site is home to numerous street arts, painted by international and local artists. From what I’ve read, there are some very popular pieces that still survive thanks to restoration, but the art scene changes frequently as the old murals fade with time and new ones take the spotlight. Thankfully, the ones I’ve really taken a liking to haven’t disappeared. An early start gives us some advantages – not having to compete with other people for photos, and most importantly, cool weather for a pleasant walk.

Trusty digital SLR in hand, Jimin and I enjoyed searching for the murals, snapping pictures with them as trophies. To my delight – and Jimin’s amusement – many of these artworks on the wall are interactive. The bicycle that a pair of painted siblings ride on is an actual bicycle that you can sit on, similar to the swings a bit of distance away. Jimin declared that the painting of a realistic little boy walking a very-cartoonish dinosaur as his favourite, until he finds out that the artist, Ernest Zacharevic later made a series of paintings he called the ‘101 Lost Kittens’ project. Whilst indulging him in his renewed vigour to find all the lost cats, I noticed that the street art isn’t all that the capital of the island, George Town, has to offer. Narrow streets snake around terraced store fronts and as the morning aged, some of them started to open. Most of them look old, but many retain an interesting charm unique to each one, be it tiles with beautiful patterns covering the doorstep of the store, or windows and doors carved in cultural patterns that hide a rich history that I’m not privy to.

Dotted between these cramped stores are various eateries, cafes, bakeries and bars, many whimsically decorated, just waiting to surprise us as if saying ‘peek-a-boo’! It wasn't long before our stomachs were rumbling, and we chose our breakfast stop. We managed to get roti canai, a flatbread eaten with curry, which was one of my goals for this trip. Jimin tsk-tsked upon hearing that my goals are food instead of attractions, but even he was mesmerised by the sight of the cook twirling the bread dough expertly in the air. “Okay, this is good,” he relents after taking a bite of the savoury bread.

After filling ourselves up, we resume the search for Jimin’s kittens, but I don’t think we managed to get even halfway before we’re reminded that Malaysia is a country that has sunny and rainy days instead of four seasons. And today is definitely sunny. My trusty cap might be protecting my face, but it’s not doing much against the unforgiving heat. “Korea isn’t this hot, even in the summer,” Jimin insists.

“It’s more humid here,” I explain as my eyes rove about the walls, looking for cat paintings. The grey cat surrounded by red fortune cats has been my favourite so far, but Jimin got more excited about the giant depiction of Skippy, the orange cat.

“How come real cats don’t come in this size?” One would think that Jimin’s wish was an adorable one, but I imagined if it came true, and was horrified at the thought.

“They would eat us whole!” Terrified, I eyed the painting up and down, trying to gauge its size. It must be twice as tall as I am. “It would be worse than a tiger!”

Jimin had laughed at my seriousness, but it isn’t long before I’m ready to call it quits, and he’s right behind me. “Summers are probably more bearable in Korea because we’re in the air conditioning most of the time, while we’ve been out in the sun all morning here.” As if granting my wish, I spy blinds hung over a shop with white lettering written across it. A peek underneath tells me that this is probably a café, since I see wooden stools and tables taking up the storefront space. Without hesitation, I grab Jimin’s arm and lead him towards it. I don’t know what sort of store it is, but I know I could use some shade right now.

It turns out that it really is a café, thankfully. Jimin doesn’t need much persuading to agree on grabbing a bite to eat; it’s lunchtime anyway. We snap up some seats inside, where the air conditioning graces us with its mercy. The menu quickly tells us that this place specialises in bagels. Our bagels are perfectly toasty and crunchy after being reheated over a wood fire in an oven, and I take complete delight in the sour kiwi slices coated in honey topping yogurt in an adorable glass jar. Since I don’t eat as much as Jimin, I opt for a lighter salmon and cream cheese bagel. Although I’m doubtful of the bagel’s ability to satisfy Jimin’s appetite, he insists that the bacon and egg served with his bagel is enough to tide him over.

As Jimin inhales his food, then orders more after giving me a sheepish shrug, my attention keeps straying to one corner of the eatery where I watch a group of young girls snapping pictures amidst raucous laughter. Grabbing the opportunity to catch Jimin’s attention when he looks up from his plate, I gesture towards the corner with my chin. “Look, look. We have to take a picture there.”

By the time we’re done, the girls have gone, so I pick up a piece of white chalk on a nearby table to write on the small chalkboard they’d left behind. “Name… Park Jimin.” The texture of the chalk isn’t pleasant to my skin, but I ignore it to fill in Jimin’s height and the date, chuckling when I think about what to write in the last space. “Charge… laughing too much.”

“What?” My best friend states his incredulity as he lets loose the same charming laughter that I’m charging him with. “Laughter brings joy to the world! How could that be a crime?”

“Shh,” I ignore his weak protests, shoving the board into his hands and nudging him against the wall. He guffaws as I lift up my camera and snap pictures of him against a lineup board to take his mugshot. He then declares that he’s good to go for another search for the lost kitties. But it has been a long day, and with our energy already been sapped by yesterday’s journey, the afternoon is spent in more leisurely walks instead, with Jimin quietly indulging my sweet tooth by popping into trendy and yummy cafes instead of religiously keeping an eye out for more murals. I silently appreciate his thoughtfulness but don’t comment on it, knowing that it’ll give him a golden opportunity to tease me for eating so many sweets. Of course, it might just be him wanting to escape the heat without admitting it, even though the sun’s power seems to have diminished as it slips to the west. Yeah, that must be it, I think to myself, refusing to read more into it.

We’ve just exited another café, the bitter taste of coffee tampered by milk and sugar still lingering on our tongues, when Jimin points out something unfamiliar on the road. “Look, what’s that?” It’s a small cart, just big enough so that two people can sit on the seat underneath a grey shade. Behind it is a bicycle with one wheel, attached to the cart to drive the small cart with two more wheels on its side – like a tricycle – forward. I’ve never seen one in Korea, but I do know that this is a mode of transport in several Asian countries.

“It’s a rickshaw,” I tell him, miraculously pulling the name from my memory.

“Huh.” Jimin eyes it with interest. It doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going. “Wanna try riding it?”

At this point, we don’t even know where we are. It has thankfully cooled down now that it’s late afternoon, but my feet are weary from walking so much. Still… My eyes move from the empty cart, where the two of us can sit comfortably and give our feet much needed rest, towards the back, where the driver is sitting. “It would be nice to support his livelihood, but I’d feel bad asking him to bring us around.” I turn to Jimin, unthinkingly placing my heart in my eyes as I entreat him to reconsider.

Taking in the thin, old man resting his forearms on the bicycle handles as he waits for the traffic light to change, Jimin nods his agreement. “You’re right, I can’t in good conscience hire a man at least twice my age to do that.”

So it’s with mixed feelings that I open the map on my phone to determine where we are. When the phone loads, I sigh with relief. We’ve somehow walked all over Georgetown to end up almost next to our next destination, Chowrasta Market, which is in turn a mere 5-minute walk from our hotel. The large three-storey building looks ordinary from afar, but when we get closer, my eyes widen at the selection of goods in the shops on the ground floor. “Oooh.” Lines and lines of pickled fruits and local titbits remind me of some of the stalls in Korean markets. The vibrant colours of the pickled fruits match the packaging of the snacks, making me go crazy trying to decide what to buy.

Sensing that a lot of time is about to be spent choosing snacks, followed by a lot of money traded, leading to him carrying a lot of things, Jimin interjects. “Why don’t we check out the other floors first? That way we don’t have to carry our purchases everywhere.”

“Okay,” I agree readily, but also absent-mindedly, and he has to take me by the hand to lead me further in towards the escalator. The first floor of the market is nowhere near as exciting as the ground floor to me at first glance. There are some clothing stores, which don’t manage to catch mine or Jimin’s interest. However, as we walk towards the back of the building, a familiar musty smell greets my nose, putting me on alert. Even as we walk in its direction, I start to lean forward, trying to get a good look as soon as I can. “Are those… books?”  

They really are. Several tiny stores filled to the brim with second-hand books – so many that we can barely walk between the shelves. Some people may find the air stale and stuffy, but I see it as staunch, ancient guardians protecting hidden treasures. And some of the books are real treasures; with the help of the shopkeepers, we unearth books in every topic under the sun, some of them a little worse for wear, but the newer releases – like the Harry Potter series – look practically brand new. I don’t find any books in Korean, which isn’t surprising, but I do discover a first edition of a title in the Lord of the Rings series. It isn’t in the best condition, sadly, but it makes me wonder what else I could find had I had the time to thoroughly comb the enormous collection of books. We barely made a scratch before Jimin cautions me against bringing home too many things.

Since I know I won’t be able to decide which book to buy, I decide to not get anything. Pangs of regret echo silently within me as we leave, but then I remember that a plethora of food stalls are supposed to line the few streets next to the market. Picking myself up, I grab Jimin’s arms with an excited grin. “Hey, why don’t we walk a bit more to the food stalls?”

“More walking?” Jimin despairs at the thought.

“It’s just a block or two from here.” As we go down the escalator, I pull him towards the exit by his arm, boding no arguments.

“What about the snacks you wanted to buy?” Digging his heels in, Jimin gestures towards the goods in the small shops we’re passing by, desperately attempting to keep further steps at a minimum.

Sadly for him, I already have a plan of action in mind, and there’s nothing he can do to dissuade me. Shaking my head, I explain to him the logical steps that we should take. “We’ll be passing by this place again on our way back to the hotel. We can buy them then.” As an answer to Jimin’s subsequent whine of protest, I tell him, “Shopping on an empty stomach will make you buy more than you should. So we need to get some sustenance before we buy these.”

Jimin may be following my lead out of the market and opposite the direction we came from prior to arriving at the market, but his mouth isn’t about to admit defeat so easily. “How can your stomach still be empty after eating so many sweets??”

It doesn’t alleviate his disbelief when he’s informed that I’m looking for one stall in particular – a famous cendol stall. When his question of “What is that?” is met with my answer of “It’s a local dessert,” he scoffs in incredulity.

However, as soon as we cross to the next block, both Jimin and I are easily distracted by the shops lining the ground floor. At first the t-shirts with Penang’s attractions, including the murals printed on them as well as the colourful clothes draw our attention. As I start to thumb through some trousers with unusual prints hanging on a rack, Jimin ventures inside the shop then quickly calls me over. I suppress a groan. The shops, with their open fronts, are not air-conditioned, and while the temperature has become much more bearable now that the sun is starting to set, I’d rather stay where the wind isn’t just coming from the fans affixed to the walls. But it is worth it. Even though it’s just your typical souvenir – magnets, miniatures of the country’s famous buildings, and other memorabilia – for me it shows what the country’s people are most proud of. An insight to the people’s minds.

There are also bags and purses of different sizes, some bearing similar patterns to the clothes, while some are woven. “Is this what you want, of all things?” Having Jimin’s heavy arm suddenly drop around my shoulder as I examine a beige bag with red square markings makes me grunt and sag a little.

“What’s wrong with wanting this?” To be honest, I don’t actually plan to buy it, but now I’m tempted to, just to be contrary. Jimin really brings out the childish part of me sometimes; a side that I feel is too immature to show others. My head swivels around to stick my tongue out at him for good measure, but then I notice how close his face is to mine. I can just move my head forward a little and kiss him. Alarmed that this thought is the first that comes to mind, I look back down at the bag so quickly I get whiplash.

Jimin doesn’t seem to notice my reaction to his extremely close proximity, because I can feel him shrug nonchalantly at my verbal response. “Mmm, well, if you like it that much, I won’t stop you.” He ruffles my hair affectionately, earning an angrier “Hey!” than I would have normally given him had I not been so flustered, before I saunter back towards the entrance of the shop, right towards the pants that I’d been browsing when he first called me in.

Sensing a possible sale, or, in hindsight, an opportunity to play the responsible cupid, the shopkeeper who has been watching our shenanigans quietly all this while sidles up to me. “That is a good choice, miss. You should ask your boyfriend to buy it for you.” The woman is very young; probably a few years younger than I am, and her speech sounds a little different than Hisyam’s. I sense that she isn’t as fluent as our driver the night before. However, I can understand her perfectly well, and that’s all that matters.

Or perhaps it would have been better if I couldn’t catch her words, because they made me even more agitated. But before I can tell her that Jimin and I are not a couple, she grins brightly and takes my hand in hers, pressing something small into it. “Here, I’ll give you this. Stay safe!”

Curious, I open my hand to see what she has given me accompanied by that suspicious, conspiratorial look. Eyes widening with surprise and hackles raised, I panic; “No no! You–“

“What’s going on?” Jimin walks over, making me shriek in horror and push the condom back into the shopkeeper’s hands then cover them with the bag I’m holding. I’m not sure why I’m so perturbed. It’s not as if I’m the one suggesting that Jimin and I have sex, but damn it, I want to. And I’m deathly afraid that my best friend would somehow figure out my secret, inappropriate desire.

But of course, my startled and over the top reaction only serves to drum up Jimin’s interest. “What are you hiding there?” It isn’t difficult for him to push my hands – and the bag, my only saving grace – away and uncover the little ‘gift’ that the owner thought she’d thoughtfully given to me. What is up with her, anyway?! I thought this is a conservative country! Looking back towards the winking shopkeeper, I decided that she must be a really forward woman, or a foreigner, despite not knowing enough to tell. Either way, the cat’s out of the bag now that Jimin has seen it. Blinking several times blankly at the small packet, Jimin then looks quizzically at me, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh God.” My mortified groan is muffled by the bag that I’d stuffed my head into, unable to bear the embarrassment.

Needless to say, we don’t buy anything from the shop. The steps we take forward are sluggish and unsteady, just like my emotions. Although Jimin had laughed it off as he’d simply told the shopkeeper that we’re all good the whole time he’d dragged me out of the small shop, his silence now clues me in on the awkwardness that he’s feeling, too. After the row we’d had the night before, I really don’t want this to go on. Must keep my feelings hidden. How hard can it be, right? I’ve done it all these years. No one had ever questioned my friendship with Jimin, so it must have looked easy on the outside. I hope no one would ever find out how torn and beat up I am on the inside.

“Sorry about that,” I broach the incident carefully, wanting to put it behind us instead of making it worse. “She suddenly shoved the… it into my hand.”

“Ah, no worries.” Scratching his head like it doesn’t matter to him, Jimin smiles, but he doesn’t quite look me in the eye. “She must have been desperate to make a sale.”

“That must have been the weirdest tactic I’ve ever seen.” I roll my eyes with a chuckle. Good. This may have started out forced, but it’s sounding more natural to my ears now. Just ignore that the woman had thought that Jimin and I are a couple, and more importantly, how much I want it to be true. We’re really close friends, it’s normal that strangers would think that we’re more than that. Just laugh it off and things will go back to normal. They always do.

Shrugging, Jimin tries to give her some credit. “At least it’s a fresh approach!”

I start to shake my head, but we reach the other end of the building, greeted by the sight of a long line running along the side of the next block, starting at a small, humble stall. “There it is!” I exclaim in excitement, recognising it instantly from the photos I’ve seen online. Jimin’s grunt when I grab his arm to join the line goes ignored, but he doesn’t complain once we’re there, even though I can’t even see the stall from where we’re standing.

Thankfully, the line moves up pretty rapidly. Once we approach the stall, we see why; the green droplet jellies and red beans are already laid out and ready to be scooped into the small bowl with the white coconut milk and brown syrup. The only wait time is caused by the man making shaved ice from the initial blocks with a green machine that takes up almost half their workspace. There isn’t much allowance for chairs and tables by the roadside, so after paying, Jimin and I join the other customers in standing while downing our sweet treat.

“This is sooooo good.” My compliment is backed up by my tilting the remnants of the bowl into my mouth.

“Want to get one more?” Jimin says gamely, and I grin at the offer. Obviously he’d enjoyed it as well, but I shake my head.

“I’d love to, but there are more treats for us to try,” I explain, motioning with my chin away from the direction of the cendol queue. Sure enough, just walking down the road has us stopping every hundred meters or so to check out what this stall or that restaurant had to offer. And not just the local cuisine either! We even come across a Harry Potter café that serves more than just Butterbeer. Penangites sure love their trendy cafes.

It isn’t surprising to hear a local complain over the prices of some of these delectable goodies though. “This much for sotong kangkong?!” A woman about my age gasps after paying the waitress for two plates of some squid dish. I simply listen to her talk to her friends one table away as we skewer our own squid and water spinach, enriched by the dark, savoury sauce that has my taste buds dancing with joy.

Jimin, who is eavesdropping on their conversation too, remarks amusedly, “Looks like we got conned.”

“Not surprising. This place is well known after all. I’m sure they marked up the price since tourists come here a lot,” I muse, unbothered but interested. “It would be nice to have a local show us the good and cheap places. I’m sure there are many that are unknown to us tourists.”

“Hmm,” Jimin hums thoughtfully, but doesn’t say anything else. For a few moments, I watch him in silence, waiting for him to express his train of thought out loud, but he doesn’t continue. By the time we start making our way back to the hotel, we’re so full that the walk is more than welcome. Not as welcome as the stop we make at the Chowrasta Market to buy some snacks – for souvenirs, but I admit to Jimin honestly that I can’t promise that at least half of them might be gone by the time we’re going back to Korea.

The food coma that we fall victim to continues into the late morning the next day, but it’s very well worth it. Both of us sleep so soundly that even the blazing glare of the sun can only make me moan tiredly, trying to shuffle into a better position to continue my slumber. Which is when I come to a realisation that jolts me wide awake.

Jimin’s arms and legs are wrapped around me.

No wonder I feel so snug and warm. It isn’t just all the food breaking down in my stomach. Jimin has hugged me on countless occasions before, but this feels different. More like what a couple would do, while I’ve always thought of our hugs as friendly. Or perhaps I force myself to think that way. I would use all my willpower to make myself pretend that this is the same as well, just for self-preservation. He’s just cuddling me in his sleep after all. It’s not like it’s intentional. Right?

I might have convinced myself, if I didn’t feel a definite, insistent hardness pressing against my butt. Yes, even that is unintentional I’m sure, but my dumb body can’t help reacting to it. Closing my eyes, I stifle another moan – not a sleepy one this time – as I feel how wet I’ve already become in reaction to him.

Against my better judgement, I arch my back, leaning forward and shuffling as subtly as I can into a better position. Tingles that spark like tiny electric shocks when my covered slit comes into contact with Jimin’s clothed morning wood has me stifling a wanton sound of pleasure. I’m not sure if he’s fully hard, but he feels like a good size. Any size would be good, as long as it’s Jimin. My hips rock back and forth, years of depravity leaving me utterly shameless. Unthinking about how wrong it is to take advantage of my unassuming best friend while he’s asleep.

My right hand dives down past the waistband of my shorts and into my panties, seeking the nub that would multiply the pleasure. “Hnn,” I bite my lower lip in an attempt to stop any further sounds from spilling past, while letting my eyelids flutter shut. The better to enjoy this — it is no longer a fantasy I indulge myself in when I’m pleasuring myself. If only I could have more. Deft fingers toy with my clit as I rub my pussy faster against Jimin’s cock. It’s undoubtedly growing bigger. It almost feels like it wants to pierce through the fabric separating us. Even though I’m really just dry humping him, moving by myself, it already feels incredible. What I wouldn’t give to have it inside me, giving my weeping pussy just what it’s craving. If only these fingers were his; flicking the stiffened bud while whispering in my ear, telling me to come for him...

As if answering my obscene prayers, a deep groan from behind startles me into a frozen statue. Belatedly realising the gravity of my actions, I yank my arm up and out of my shorts. Shit, what the hell am I doing??? However, taking a look at my hand; fingers soaked with my arousal, flowing all the way to my wrist, I have to gulp down another wave of desire. No, this is just too risky.

Heart beating deafeningly in my chest, I stay deathly still for a minute or two, hoping that Jimin hasn’t awoken and realised what I was up to. If he has, I don’t even know how to explain myself to him. Hell, I don’t even know how to explain myself to myself. Thankfully, he seems to be in a deep sleep. Even luckier for me, he just loosens his hold on me, turning onto his back with a deep sigh. Like a rabbit sprung free from a trap, I scoot out of the bed as fast as I can without waking him up. Once I climb off the bed, I spin around to look at him, making sure that he really is asleep. His face is positively angelic in his slumber. It would be painful for me to look at it if it wasn’t such a contrast to the tent that his hard-on is making out of the pristine white sheets. Sheets that would no longer remain unsoiled if only he had any interest in having his way with me. They would turn near transparent – if I’m already this wet from brushing against him and touching myself, what state would I be in if Jimin is the one touching me? If he’s the one rubbing against my clit frantically? If there was nothing separating us, if he’s actually inside me, stroking my inner walls with his hard cock? The beddings will be soaked through.

These traitorous thoughts make me whine out loud without thinking. The way I’m looking at him now is no way someone would look at a best friend. No; as much as I’ve convinced myself that I’ve been keeping my emotions in check, I haven’t been looking at Jimin as just a friend for a very long time.

And if he wakes up to find me drooling and mewling for him, there won’t be hiding it any longer. His breathing isn’t the long, calm ones of one in deep slumber. He could wake up anytime. So I hasten to the bathroom, willing my eyes not to stray towards his obvious yet unintentional arousal.

After swiftly divesting myself of my clothes, I hop into the shower, blasting it on full force. Two seconds later, I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep myself from screeching and cursing at the temperature of the water. Somehow I’d managed not only to set it on full force, I had turned it on at the hottest temperature as well.

The cold shower I give myself after hurriedly changing the settings doesn’t do much to clear my mind. My body is crying from rebuffed desire. Clearly this sharing-a-room thing isn’t working out in my favour.

As a compromise to my physical needs that allows most of my pride to remain intact, I turn off the shower and get into the bathtub instead. Reaching for the hose, once again I turn it on full force, but this time only after checking the temperature. Uncaring if it’s shameless to do this when my best friend is asleep on the opposite side of the wall, I open my legs and direct the head between them. The intense pressure of the water hitting my pussy awards me with immediate relief from my pent-up frustration, immediately followed by building pleasure that had been denied from me in the bed just now. Keeping the steady jet continuously hitting my sensitive nub with my left hand, I reach down with my right to trace my slit. It’s completely drenched, and I know that it’s not all from the water coming out of the faucet.

My middle and index fingers slip past my entrance easily. Scooting down the tub to get into a better, lower position with only the upper half of my torso resting against the wall of the tub, I begin to move my fingers in and out of my warm depths. Pretending that it’s Jimin’s cock that I’d felt against my pussy, the memory still fresh, I burn the sensation inside my mind to last me for all time. Soon I’m panting and moaning, though still of sound enough mind to be careful not to utter his name out loud, but unable to stop the aroused sighs that fall out of my mouth at the thought of him doing all of this to me, and more.

The fantasy brings me to a climax in record time with a loud cry that I hope is masked by the sound of running water and thick stained glass. Just in case Jimin is awake, I try to clean myself up as fast as I can. If I’m lucky, maybe he’d still be asleep.

When I step out of the bathroom, he’s still on the four-poster, turned onto his side with his back facing me once more. However, I can see movement underneath the sheets that tells me that he is no longer asleep. Is he… masturbating? Even though it’s covered, I can see his right arm moving rapidly, almost desperately. His breathing is unsteady, just like mine was right before in the bathtub.

A part of me that must be sick and perverted wants to watch him. I stand rooted on the spot with my hand on the doorknob, fascinated, longing to see him pleasure himself. Dying to help him do it. Already my center is reacting again. I’m so ready for him. I’ve been ready for him for so long.

But before I can rationalise continuing to watch my best friend masturbate like a total creep, unthinkingly I release my hand from the door of the bathroom, causing it to close shut with a sharp click. Jimin immediately stills, confirming to me that my suspicions were right. The sound also brings me back to my senses. What should I do now?

In the end, I opt for the safe option, the one that I’ve chosen over and over and over again. Striding past the bed, I greet him as normally as I can. “Hey, wake up, we’ve already wasted half a day just snoozing.”

I’m sure that Jimin is going for a sleepy grunt, but it came out sounding more like a horny groan than anything else to my ears. To keep things from becoming awkward, I pretend not to notice it. Instead, I open the wardrobe in the corner of the room, giving him a chance to hightail it to the bathroom with my back turned to him. He grabs the opportunity readily. As he showers, I dress quickly then let myself out onto the balcony, closing the doors behind me. It’s so much easier to tell myself that he hadn’t heard my shameless moans while I was inside the bathroom if I don’t hear him making them either.

Since he doesn’t comment on it, I assume that he either really didn’t hear me in the bathroom, or that he’d rather not say anything in case I saw him and return the favour. I’m more than happy to just pretend nothing had happened. Especially the fact that I used him to get myself off, although I’m pretty sure he’s oblivious to that. Otherwise I doubt he’d let me go on for as long as I did. Masturbating is something normal, he’d probably spare me the embarrassment even if he hadn’t been caught doing it himself. But using your best friend for your own orgasm is something else entirely.

So, with me neglecting to say anything about sorting out his morning wood – which is completely understandable – and him either not knowing that he wasn’t the only one who got off today, or choosing not to mortify me by saying that he does, the afternoon is spent in peace at Batu Feringghi. It doesn’t cost us much to get a driver to bring us to the long stretch of beach less than half an hour from Georgetown. Going there on a weekday means that we’re spared from the throng of people I’m sure would flock the tranquil strip of sand and sea on weekends. The salty wind is refreshing on my skin; perfect after a proper rest the night before.

Even more perfect than the breeze hitting my face and whipping through my hair is having Jimin by my side, leisurely walking in a more or less straight line marked by the water kissing the sand. We’re close enough that the gentle waves wash over our feet every few seconds, but not too deep into the sea that we’re wet past our ankles. I want to go on like this forever, strolling next to Jimin, feeling like a real couple.

It isn’t long before the blissful walk morphs into a food outing though, as it has always been on this trip, when we spot a stall further up the beach and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he asks me if I want to check the food out. He knows me well, so I can see how he immediately thought that’s what I wanted. However, this time, I’d really rather just spend some quality time with him. No words or anything else needed. Just basking in his presence, soaking in the happiness I feel simply by having him here with me. Once we get back to Seoul, we’ll get caught up in the flow of our own lives again. With people we know all around us, we will truly go back to being just best friends. He will get a girlfriend, and I’ll probably find another boyfriend to fill in the emptiness that can never be satiated by anyone other than Jimin. Is it wrong of me to want to continue this make-believe game of being his girlfriend a little bit longer, even if it’s only in my head?

Of course, it’s not as if I can tell Jimin any of this out loud. Plastering a smile on my face instead, I jokingly praise him, “Wow, when did you learn to read my mind?” and start off towards the stall ahead of him. His, “Oy, wait for me!” is met with laughter, but it rings hollow in my ears. I bounce and skip along, but it’s hard to do so and maintain a steady foothold on the ground thanks to the soft sand giving way underneath my feet. My body feels unbalanced, struggling to remain upright despite – or perhaps because – of the jolly movements I’m forcing upon myself, parallel to the emotions I’ve been keeping inside me for so long. Always on the verge of crumbling, threatening to fall into the unknown, even as I put up a front of being Jimin’s happy best friend.

Blinking back tears, I clear my throat as I stop in front of the stall to read the menu. “What is this?” Pointing to a foreign word on the small white board propped in front of me, I ask the young guy, barely a man, manning the stall as Jimin steps up next to me, bumping my shoulder on purpose.

“Oh, uhm…” he looks visibly flustered, eyes moving all over the separated goods on his workspace as he tries to find the words in English to answer my question. He must be taking care of this place for someone. He seems new and a little inexperienced with customers. I feel bad for him, but I still want an answer, so I wait patiently, flashing him an encouraging smile.

Jimin is quick to take pity on him. “Well, all that matters is that it tastes good, right?”

Given an out, the young man breathes a sigh of relief, obviously feeling more at ease. “Miss, pasembur is a mixture of all these things,” he makes a sweeping gesture towards the ingredients laid out on the table in front of him, “covered with peanut sauce. Can you handle a bit of spice?”

Placated by his effort to explain, I lean forward to look at the dry stuff he has sorted out in different containers. Some shredded cucumbers and turnips, bean sprouts, fried tofu and a fried pancake-looking thing that looks crispy. “Yeah, I love spicy food!”

The ingredients just need to be put together in a large plate, and soon Jimin and I are sitting at one of the tables propped up around the stall under a leafy tree. Both of us take the chairs on opposite sides, so we can enjoy the view of the sea as we sip our coconut juice straight from the fruit. Halfway through our afternoon snack, Jimin muses, “I wonder how much weight we’ve put on since we’ve been here?”

His question makes the mouthful I have in my mouth hard to swallow. “Ugh, must you think about that? We’re supposed to enjoy our holiday with no worries!” I wag my fork at him grumpily, reaching for a glass of ice I’d asked from the boy to wash down the food with the cool, melted water.

My chiding rolls off of him like water off a duck’s back. “If I’m going to continue going with you for more food after this, I’m gonna have to make some space,” he says playfully, getting up with a gesture towards the small building that houses restrooms a few hundred meters away.

“Ew!” After sending a chuckling Jimin off by flinging what’s left of the ice in my cup at him, I turn back to the remnants of our food. The peanut sauce is only mildly spicy, but still very enjoyable. We’ve found out that the fried pancake-like thing is actually prawn fritters, but I like the turnip the most. Coupled with the heavier peanut sauce, the juice that flows into my mouth when I bite the turnip provides a refreshing, contrasting taste that reinvigorates my senses. As I try to pick out the turnip strips among the few other toppings left over, a man I haven’t seen before pulls the stool next to mine.

Confused, I give the surroundings a quick glance before turning back to him. Only one other table is occupied. The rest are empty. Even while sitting, I can tell he’s taller than many Malaysians I’ve seen so far. He’s fair-skinned, and although he looks Asian, he doesn’t look quite like a Malaysian – I’ve seen many of the main three races of Malaysians; Malays, Chinese and Indians – and I’m no expert, but there’s something about him that tells me that he’s a tourist, too. “Excuse me, why are you sitting here?”

“So I can take a better look at you, cutes,” he responds arrogantly, turning me off in a split second. Trying to find someone to hook up with on his vacation, I suppose.

Frowning, I pointedly continue spearing one of the small nuggets of the pasembur with my fork, uncaring of what I choose to pop into my mouth in a show of blowing him off. “Well, I don’t care to look at you, so please leave.”

As expected, he’s not going to give up so easily. “I came over ‘cause you look really bored, sitting here alone by yourself. The name’s Charlie. Why don’t you come with me? My room is just over at that hotel,” he points towards one of the ritzy resorts by the beach, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction by looking at it. “I’ll show you a fun time.”

“No, tha–“ I start to turn him down again, but he grabs my hand, uninterested in my response.

“Hey! Ah, uhm…” Before I can put up a struggle to get myself free, we’re stopped by the boy taking care of the stall. From the way his words are coming up in short stutters, it’s clear that he’s scared out of his wits. Yet he’s still standing up to the much bigger man for my sake. “The miss has a boyfriend!”

“Eh?” Charlie looks from the boy to me, then scans the open space. “Where is he then?”

“Uh.” Great. What am I supposed to tell him now?

But before I can think of a reply, he shrugs indifferently. “Just ditch him, then.”

Again, I start to pull away from him, but this time it’s Jimin who stops us in our tracks. “What’s going on here?” His tone is light, but I can sense the undercurrent of what I’ve named the Angry Jimin; the quiet man who speaks in a soft voice, hiding a dangerous persona that can cut a person with one cold look. In all the years I’ve known him, I can probably count the number of times I’ve seen Jimin like this with the fingers on one hand, but the departure from the usual Jimin that I know is so drastic, there’s no mistaking it when he’s truly furious like this. Even though I know that I’m not in the wrong, he has me shaking in my flip-flops.

Charlie, on the other hand, does not recognise the cue signalling that he’s in hot water. “Who are you?” Then, making the same assumption as the boy, “what, are you her boyfriend?”

Afraid of what Jimin might say and its consequences – not just about Charlie, but I selfishly can’t bear to hear him say that he’s not my boyfriend, either – I wrestle away from Charlie’s grip, rushing forward towards Jimin to link my arm around his. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

My unexpected move confuses Jimin, earning a bewildered expression from him, but Charlie doesn’t seem to care either way. “Tch. Look man, don’t be such a spoilsport. I just want to borrow her for a couple of hours. Or do you wanna come join us too? I hate sharing, but I’m sure we can find someone for you, too. If you don’t mind ‘em ugly,” he laughs nastily, reaching out for me again.

However, Jimin snaps out of his bafflement quickly, and snatches Charlie’s wrist in a firm grip before he can get his hand on me. “Do not touch her.” Jimin’s icy voice intimidates Charlie, I can tell, as the latter hesitates for a moment. But he waves away the warning.

“Aw, c’mon. I–aaaaaaargh!” Charlie’s flippant tone hikes up several notches as his knees buckle, attempting to wrench out of Jimin’s grip, which has tightened so much that his hand is starting to bend at an unnatural angle. Once he manages to get out of it, he backs up several large steps, staying clear out of Jimin’s reach. “What the fuck, man! I thought we were cool! If you’re going to be such a stick about it, you could’ve just said something!”

Now that his switch has been turned on, Jimin is in no mood for any tomfoolery. “I told you not to dare lay a hand on her. Now. Fuck Off.” His words still come out composed and almost unaffected, but his normally smiling eyes now have a malicious glint to them, and even Charlie has learnt his lesson.

We leave the place soon after he does, after I thank the boy for standing up for me. Both Jimin and I know where we’re heading to next; I told him our plans before we headed out a few hours earlier, and I think that we’re walking in the right general direction, but neither of us are checking if we’re going the right way. When the heart is lost, does it matter where the body goes? I’m not sure what’s going on with Jimin, though. He isn’t checking if we’re going the right way, and he doesn’t seem to care, either. I’d ask him what’s bothering him if I wasn’t so preoccupied myself. Having him protect me like that made me ecstatic, even though I was also scared back there. But the aftermath is excruciating. Having him act like he’s my boyfriend, as short-lived as it was, only makes it more painful to face reality. He will be that for another lucky girl, one day, forever. But that girl isn’t going to be me.

While I’m musing on the thoughts that I’ve been burying for ages and plan to do so until the end of time, Jimin isn’t planning on taking the same approach. I should never have worried about asking him what’s wrong – he’s going to address it himself without any prodding from me. “You could’ve just told that ass that your boyfriend is back at home.”

Frayed nerves and a permanently broken heart immediately fuel the ire that rises inside me at his comment. Is that really important? “Do you really think he would have left me alone if I’d said that? He was trying to take off with me even with you there,” I bite off bitterly.

Jimin sighs, unable to argue with the validity of my statement. “I guess that’s true. I just wish I didn’t have to pretend to be your boyfriend to chase him away.”

“Why, is the idea of being my boyfriend that horrible to you?” No, wrong thing to say. I shouldn’t lash out like this. I’m only inviting trouble. But I can’t stop. Jimin might have not done anything wrong, but I still can’t help being resentful towards him for this. I can’t stop hating myself for still being hung up over him. He might not have meant anything hurtful by it, right now and back then, but it doesn’t stop it from eating away at me, turning me into an ugly monster inside.

At least he has enough wits to recognise that he’d put his foot in his mouth. “No, I didn’t mean–“

“Just stop.” I don’t want to hear it. I can’t bear it. His meaning is crystal clear. It always has been. Jimin just doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend. However, if I hear the exact words, I don’t think I can handle it. All of me wants to run far from him, but I can’t do that without appearing even more suspicious than I am now. So I settle for increasing my walking speed just short of a run, surprising Jimin as I leave him behind to cross the road. The few seconds it takes for him to wait for the cars to pass and lengthen his strides to return to my side grants me a bit of time to furiously blink my tears away, clearing my throat. I hope he’d missed the way my voice cracked just now.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Jimin pulls me to the curb, holding me by the shoulder to face him. “You’ve been acting weird. I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just–“

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I throw out fake words meant to reassure him, using my phone as an excuse not to look at him. “Just checking the direction for the night market.” My thumb shakes with the rest of me, making it difficult to type, but I will myself to make it steady. I can’t break down now. Not after all this time, in the middle of the road in a foreign country, no less.

“No, you’re not.” It isn’t the same Jimin that had dealt with Charlie earlier, but I can tell that I’m trying his patience. Still, I can’t tell him. If I do, not just this trip; everything will fall apart. And I need Jimin more than I need air. If I can only have him as a friend, then I’ll take it with the heartbreak that comes with it.

“Just let it go. Please, Jimin,” I plead with him, finally tilting my face up towards his concerned one. The annoyance on his face crumbles when he sees the raw agony I know I can no longer hide. My watery eyes that betray a world of pain, even if he doesn’t know why. His hold on me loosens, then releases me, his arms falling limply to his sides. The last thing I want is to see him like this. It’s even worse because I’m the cause. But there’s nothing else I can do. “I’m sorry.”

“If you think it’s best for you, I’d do anything,” Jimin says, not asking for an explanation. “Just know that you can come to me about anything. Anything at all. I would always be there for you.”

I nod appreciatively, thinking to myself that he can’t be the medicine to the disease that he himself has created. “Thank you,” I whisper. We stand like that for a while, ignoring other people walking by us, some peering curiously at two foreigners just frozen there. Wiping my tears as discreetly as I can with him watching, I take a few deep breaths, determined to return to my normal self again – as normal as I can be, anyway – and get this day back on track. It has been a roller coaster so far.

The night market spanning along the main road and beyond are made of countless makeshifts stalls that light up the descending night. I can see just about everything I can think of here – from the standard souvenirs, to traditional clothes and bikinis, knockoff bags and watches, to paintings. Normally I would have soaked up the atmosphere, growing so excited that I’d border on crazy just trying to decide what to buy and ending up with more goods than I could carry, but somehow I can’t quite muster up the energy. It isn’t the fault of the vendors, who are friendly and inviting, but not too pushy. Nor is it because I’m turned off by the prices; although I do notice that things here are a little overpriced compared to some other places I’ve been to so far. As desperate as I am to return things to how it was before, I can’t get over Jimin rejecting me as a girlfriend. If he doesn’t even want to pretend to be my boyfriend, I can only imagine how much of a turn off it is to him to have it become a reality. And while I’ve known all along that this is how he feels, I’ve spent so long denying it to myself as I pretend on the outside that I’m all good with it. Without anyone knowing, I’ve allowed myself to fantasise being his girlfriend for too long. It’s just daydreaming, I’d thought. Just a fantasy. I know what’s real, I’d told myself. But I didn’t realise that it had made me hope that it would someday come true, and to be forced to face reality like that – it left me in a state of shock. Things are even worse, because I’m here with nowhere to run from him.

It certainly doesn’t help matters that many of the vendors assume that we’re a couple. While not surprising, it makes the air feel more awkward between us, and drives the knife deeper into my heart. I don’t need to be reminded that Jimin doesn’t see me as girlfriend material, no matter how much it may seem differently to everyone else. Every “No, no, we’re just friends,” I tell every friendly seller is a cruel admittance to the fact that I’ve been denying since we were young. Like a punishment for thinking that I can one day have more than I deserve. I couldn’t have been more wrong. And this whole day is just full of occurrences driving the point home, over and over and over. I want to cry my heart out in anguish. I want to scream my lungs out in frustration. And I want to run, to the ends of the earth, and fall off to a place where I can hurt no longer.

I’m sure Jimin knows that something isn’t right with me, but he doesn’t say or ask anything. While I really appreciate that he’s giving me space and keeping his distance so I can lick my wounds as best as I can in such a crowded place, a foolish part of me still hopes that he cares. His suggestion that we call it a night and get an early start tomorrow after popping for dinner at a food court wedged among the stalls is a very welcome one. At this point I just want to sleep and forget all this ever happened. The latter might be too much to ask for, but I can’t imagine that some rest would make anything worse than it already is.

 “When I said an early morning, I didn’t mean this!”

Jimin’s whining is ignored, although he doesn’t notice me giggle softly at his dismay. I’m glad that a few hours’ sleep is enough to restore the normalcy between us. At least that’s how it looks on the surface. My own feelings for him, now escalated to an irreversible state, have been repressed back inside me, where they have been kept carefully under lock and key for as long as I’ve realised them. And I tell myself that I’m okay with this. I’ve always known that Jimin will forever be my best friend, and only that. It was just my stupidity that kept embers of hope burning within that it might somehow change. As long as I can extinguish my impossible wishes, I can hold onto what I have – Jimin’s friendship. That is more than enough. It has to be. The alternative is to confront him with the truth, and lose him.

So I choose to maintain this delicate equilibrium. What happened yesterday should never come to pass again. I was careless, foolishly allowing my real feelings to surface. That mistake should never be repeated. Hopefully Jimin would think that I’m just still upset about Se Hoon, and leave it at that. Jimin has never been all that keen on talking too much about my boyfriends. The time we spend together has always been for just the two of us. We may chat about our partners once in a while, just to check in on the other person, but we never delved into it. I never cared to talk about my boyfriends when Jimin is the only one I truly wanted, and perhaps Jimin has never had much to share about his relationships, either. It would just be frustrating if I had to listen to him talk about them, so if he doesn’t say anything, I’ve never asked.

Addressing him from the front on the narrow dirt path, I point out, “It’s not that early, you know,” then yelp as I almost stumble over a root jutting out of the ground.

“Look out!” Relying on his animal-like reflexes, Jimin rushes forward and seizes me by the arms before I tumble to the ground. Wrapped in his arms, his sweat and slightly heavier breathing from the exertion of our exercise should be anything but romantic, but as I look up into his soft eyes, filled with concern, I can hear my heartbeat pounding erratically in my ears, and I know it’s not because we’ve been navigating this leafy terrain over the past half hour. Even in this awkward, uncomfortable position, with most of my body weight resting on him and both of us smelling way less fresh than daisies, I can’t help but notice how inviting his lips look from this close proximity. I’d give my whole fortune to be able to kiss them.

No. I’m letting myself fall into the same trap all over again. Before I do anything I will regret later, I clear my throat and extract myself from his embrace. Jimin lets me go readily. “Sorry,” I mumble to hide both my embarrassment and disappointment.

At first, Jimin looks as stunned as I feel, but my movements and apology snaps him out of it. “I told you that hiking is a bad idea,” he takes the opportunity to chide me for my choice, in the aggravating I-told-you-so manner only a childhood friend can manage. It automatically incites an immature response in me, pulling me away from my years-old worries, if only for a moment.

“It so isn’t! Just wait until we get there. Besides, it’s the perfect way to burn off all the food we ate.” Finishing with a loud huff, I turn around and continue on the narrow trail towards Monkey Beach, a stopping point on our way to the Muka Head lighthouse in Penang National Park.

We arrive at the beach just a little under an hour later. It’s already midmorning, and the sun has begun its work warming the sand and the water. I had my fill of the beach yesterday, and there’s still more hiking to do before we reach the lighthouse, but I can’t resist running my hand through the clear water and then splashing an unsuspecting Jimin who’d crouched down next to me. “Hey!” He scolds me indignantly as I erupt into laughter; my first uninhibited one since only yesterday, but it seems like forever since I’d last felt such unadulterated joy. The world just isn’t right when things are not going well with Jimin. It makes me more determined to keep everything just as they are. A life where I’m on the outs with Jimin just isn’t right.

If either of us thought that going to Monkey Beach was tiring enough, we’re in for an unpleasant surprise. While the trail to the beach was slightly challenging, it was mostly flat. From the beach to the lighthouse is a far less forgiving climb – one that would have knocked me out if I were in a worse shape than I’m in. Jimin, the fitter one of the two of us, insists that we would have gotten to our destination in less than forty minutes if I hadn’t stopped to catch my breath, but I pretend not to hear his annoying remark, choosing to roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at him when his back is turned.

Despite the journey that was more tiring than we’d bargained for, it’s well worth it now that we’re here. The lighthouse is an old one; there’s nothing really remarkable about its appearance. Our climb is really rewarded by the view that we see from the top of the lighthouse. Jimin makes his way up first, then calls out to me excitedly, and I give up on regaining my strength at the bottom of the lighthouse to join him. The narrow walkway surrounding the lighthouse peak offers us a fantastic view of the islands surrounding this one, and we stand there for a while, just taking in the endless stretch of the blue sea, trying to figure out where it meets the azure sky in the horizon.

The climb down from the lighthouse is significantly easier compared to going in the opposite direction, and we find ourselves back at the beach in no time. “Do you know that we can see turtles here?”

“Where?” The possibility of this gets Jimin on his toes at once, excitedly looking around the beach for any stray turtles wandering around. I can’t help but giggle at his enthusiastic response.

“I don’t know. I read that you might see them here. Maybe we’d have a higher chance to see them at one of the other beaches in the park. It’s a nesting place for the turtles, and the season is right about now.” My clarification disappoints him, and his shoulders sagging makes me want to pull him into a tight hug. “Do you want to go there and see if we can find any?”

At first he brightens up at the idea, then looks at me sceptically. “How far is it from here?”

“Uh…” As much as I like playing tour guide, I’m not actually sure of the answer to his question. “A little far, maybe? The way there uses an almost completely different trail, I think.”

That draws an easy response from him; “pass”. By the time we’ve walked all the way back to the park entrance, had a tasty lunch and got back to our hotel to shower, it’s already late in the afternoon. “The day just flew by,” Jimin remarks as we sit in the car, on our way to our next stop.

“I know, right? But this isn’t bad.” We’re on the main road, surrounded by buildings on our left and right, but we must be on the edges of the island, because I can see glimpses of the sea and the reddish-purplish dusky sky as the car zips by the gaps between the buildings. “It’s kind of relaxing when we’re not rushing from one place to another.”

“I wouldn’t call a morning hike relaxing though,” Jimin mumbles under his breath, earning a playful smack on the arm from me.

The easy-going mood and light banter continue even after we get to Straits Quay, a beautiful marina enclosed by a shopping mall. Perhaps too easy-going, as we indulge in some drinks after dinner. Having western food is definitely a departure from the norm after several scrumptious Malaysian meals, but I don’t mind the change very much. Especially now that the alcohol has made its way into my system – losing my inhibitions is making me tap into my repressed emotions more deeply than usual, and it’s confusing me. While I’m happy that Jimin is here with me, I’m also tired and angry at him for rousing my irrepressible hopes once more.

Without thinking, I’ve downed more than I can handle. I’ve belatedly realised that Jimin is keeping a modest pace, not imbibing even half as much as I have, but at that point, I’m beyond caring. “You should slow down a bit,” he warns me, and only then I put my mug down with a sigh, heeding his advice. “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” Although I’m starting to feel a little woozy, I still have a bit of wits about me yet.

Jimin stares at me, trying to judge if I’m still of sound mind. He must have been aiming for the delicate balance between loosening my tight lips and inability to think coherently, and I’ve fallen neatly into his trap. “Is everything going well with Se Hoon?”

“Why, do you think there’s trouble in paradise?” My answer is sharp and bitter out of sheer anger and defensiveness, instinctively seeking to protect myself even when I’m not in the best state to do so.

“I’m just concerned. I know you’re pissed because he bailed out of this trip at the last minute, but you seem more… prickly than I thought you would be,” Jimin hedges, expertly opening my precious treasure box of jealously guarded secrets. I’ve always worried that Jimin knows that I’m keeping something from him. He could always tell when there’s something I’d rather not tell him, and he usually manages to make me spill everything out. Everything… but my real feelings for him.

“And whose fault do you think it is?” I ask testily, not thinking that there can be more than one answer to this question.

“Se Hoon?” Jimin’s wrong answer makes me want to slap my forehead. At this point I’m not sure who’s the stupid one; him or me. Of course he would think Se Hoon is behind my irritable behaviour, but should I have clued Jimin in on my troubles in the first place?

“Not any longer.” His clueless answer bursts the balloon of fury blowing up within me, and I deflate in my seat. How can I expect him to put all the pieces together when I’m withholding so much of them from him? Jimin can’t possibly know that I’m hopelessly in love with him. Not when I’ve done everything that I can to hide it from him. But I’m tired of concealing things. I’ve gotten sick of it for a long time, and it has risen stealthily to the surface, slipping through my defences, biding its time until an opportunity comes for it to spill forth. Like right now. “We broke up just before we came here.”

“Oh.” His response is quiet, and I can’t tell if he’s indifferent, or sad for me, or feeling awkward from the sudden news bomb. “So it wasn’t some business thing that made him cancel the trip?”

“It was business, alright. A meeting with his colleague on his bed.” Funny, I should feel more upset about it, but I’m not. Whatever Se Hoon has done during the course of our relationship has never affected me much one way or another. Naturally he did please me and annoy me at times, but nothing he ever did got to me the way Jimin does. It’s the same for all my past relationships. I’m aware of that. But what else can I do but accept these pseudo relationships, since I can’t have the one I truly want?

Jimin’s brows shoot up upon hearing this, then crash down in a frown, accompanied by some colourful curses under his breath as he processes the information. “Sorry about that. Never liked the smarmy guy anyway. You can do way better,” he rattles off the typical sympathetic words that don’t do anything to lift up my spirits. “You could have just told me though,” he mumbles, almost as an afterthought, but I can tell that he’s offended that I kept it from him. Far from making me feel guilty though, his expectations that I share anything about my half-hearted relationships only serves to stab another wound in my already well-punctured heart.

“Guess I don’t want to feel like an even bigger loser in front of the guy who rejected me before I could even tell him how I feel.” A large lump lodges itself in my throat, obstructing my air flow, but the words come out anyway.

“What do you mean?” Leave it to Jimin to be stymied even after being told outright. “Who are you talking about?”

I don’t know what else I would have blabbed to him if a wave of dizziness didn’t strike me right then. Finally, something – alcohol in this case – saves me from my stupidity, even though it was precisely the same thing that led to my foolish confession in the first place. “Whoa!” Jimin reaches out to steady me, almost upsetting the glasses on the table in the process. “Okay, I think we’ve had enough.”

I’m not sure when or how Jimin paid for our drinks, but he must have somehow, because we made it out of the shopping mall and down at the seafront without anyone hounding us to pay the bill.

It’s hard to believe that this beautiful place is this quiet when the night is still young, but I suppose we have the weekday to thank for that. The sea breeze does wonders to whip me awake, and although I remain tipsy and a little unsteady on my feet, I manage to convince Jimin that I’m up to the night-time stroll without any danger of falling into the sea unsupported in no time at all.

The yachts lined up along the marina give the place a luxurious feeling, while the lights from the high-end apartments above the shopping mall illuminate the scene behind us against the darkness of the night and the mysterious sea before us. A white lighthouse marking the end of the yachts is clearly much newer than the one we visited earlier today. What it lacks in character and history, it makes up in pristine beauty, befitting the dreamlike scenery we’ve found ourselves in. While I’m not exactly in a romantic mood that this setting is obviously perfect for, I can still appreciate the atmosphere. Well, as much as I can while focusing on putting one foot in front of the other without losing my balance.

We turn right at the lighthouse, following the wide walkway past white houses surrounded by greenery; surely a picture-perfect setting had we seen it during the day. Lamps glow softly above us as we walk unhurriedly to the end of the straight path, both unwilling for the idyllic time to end. The silence between us is a companionable one. Jimin and I have never felt the need to fill them with idle chatter if we have nothing to say to each other. Or even when we do, sometimes, like we do now. I’m slowly becoming aware of the fact that I have said something I never should have, but I’m still buzzed enough to not care about the consequences.

However, Jimin, the more sensible of the two of us at the moment, isn’t content with letting things be. By the time we turn around to head back towards the shopping mall, I start to feel the weight of the empty air, filled with burning questions on the tip of Jimin’s tongue. In my heart of hearts, I don’t want to do it, but I look at him nevertheless; a silent permission for him to go ahead and say what is on his mind.

“When you were talking about the guy whom you couldn’t confess to, whom did you mean?”

Somehow I just knew that he’s going to zero in on that. “Does it really matter?” I sigh.

“Of course it does! I want to know who is stupid enough to reject you before you could tell him anything.” He pauses, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Of course he doesn’t know. He isn’t even aware that I know what he said, so long ago. Heck, he probably doesn’t even remember – people don’t tend to remember things that aren’t important to them, anyway. I want to snort in derision at his comment. He doesn’t even know that he’s talking about himself.

I shake my head; partly in mild disbelief, but mostly in hopelessness. The events of yesterday had solidified reality and brought me back down to earth. “It’s not gonna happen, so I’m trying not to think about it. Even if it’s just pretend, I just want to feel cherished, by the right guy, for once.”

Jimin stares at me intently, both of us standing so still we could be mistaken for statues but for our hair and garments swaying gently in the calm breeze of the night sea. I can tell that he wants to say something, to offer me words of comfort, but the agony that I’ve suffered for years must be showing on my face. A pain so deep that nothing he can say can make me feel better. Yet I wait. Hanging onto foolish hope that the source of my sickness can provide me with the remedy I need. An eternity passes by, and I know that there’s nothing he can do. So I give up, and step forward, alone. Perhaps this time I really can leave him behind.

But of course, my feet somehow get tangled with each other, and I start to trip. “Whoa!” Jimin’s quick reaction saves me in a very similar fashion to what happened less than an hour earlier, pulling me back against gravity. “Oof!” Like a big oaf, I stumble heavily into his arms, almost causing him to topple over. He manages to stay upright though, leaving me in a very awkward position; a heart-thumping position that I’ve always longed to be in, and also one that is counter-productive to my aim of forgetting him. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm.” I’m not. Intoxicated, the closest I’ve been to outing myself in ages, in dangerous proximity to the man whom I can never have. Carefully, trying not to lose my balance again and to avoid making it look like I’m pushing him away, I extract myself from his embrace. Immediately my body cries out for the warmth of his body. It isn’t that cold, but my desire for his nearness transcends physical needs. Best to get out of this situation before I start daydreaming again. “Can we go back? I’m not feeling so good.”

Without protest Jimin agrees, helping me call for a driver this time, and soon we’re back in our hotel room. We take turns showering, the motions almost feeling like a routine at this point, like we’ve been living together for years instead of this being only the fourth night we’ve shared a room consecutively. Ever since the ride back to the hotel, we haven’t said much to each other beyond short, necessary things, like, “I’ll pay for the ride.” Rather than awkward, the silence is heavy. Jimin seems lost in his thoughts while I’m just trying to clear my head for the most part. When we lay down on the bed together, I’m more aware of his nearness than ever before.

Skin prickling and thoughts all jumbled up, I shift to rest on my side, facing away from him. Perhaps I can try to get some sleep like this, I try to convince myself even though I’m hyperaware of his presence behind me. Why is this so damn hard? Tears well up behind my eyelids at the futility of it all. Jimin is just a guy. Okay, he’s an amazing guy, and the greatest friend anyone can ask for, but he is still just a normal human being. With flaws. He irritates me at times. We get into arguments and fights. So why is it that I can’t let him go? Why do I still pine for him? Why can’t I fall in love with someone else? It’s not like all my past boyfriends were assholes like Se Hoon. There have been decent guys. Nice guys. Men who are just as good as Jimin. Maybe even better. Why am I not with them? Why didn’t those relationships work out?

A wet sob makes its way out involuntarily, inducing one more, then another. I hope Jimin is asleep, so he doesn’t hear me. Slowly, I begin to slip out from under the covers, trying to keep the pitiful noises wedging in my throat contained, at least until I can make my way to the balcony where I can cry my eyes out. However, before I can reach the edge of the bed, Jimin grabs hold of me from behind, pulling me back against his chest. “Shh,” he whispers soothingly into my ear, stroking me softly without demanding an explanation.

His gentle encouragement eases me to let myself go, drawing up the white blanket up to my face, cupping it as I cry in earnest, drenching the quality cloth with my tears. Although Jimin doesn’t know that he’s the cause behind my sadness, it doesn’t make his tender brand of solace any less comforting. For me, Jimin has always been able to evoke the most extreme emotions within; the highest bliss, the deepest pain, the best comfort. And even though I can’t let it go – perhaps I never will – the overwhelming agony eventually subsides. Tendrils of exhaustion begin to creep in on the edges of my consciousness, as they always do after a good cry. My eyes will probably be bloodshot and puffy tomorrow.

After finding a dry spot on the blanket to wipe them, I twist around in Jimin’s arms to face him again. None of the lights are on in the room, but the pinpricks of light from the lamps outside shine dimly through the thin inner curtains that have been drawn over the glass doors, softly illuminating the room like faraway stars. I can make out Jimin’s kind expression as he looks at me, plump lips curled into a tiny smile. “Thank you.” My gratitude comes in a soft voice, even though I can’t return his smile.

“Anytime,” he answers lightly. The arm that was wrapped around me lifts so he can caress the side of my face tenderly with his hand. His touch feels like heaven, and my eyelids flutter shut, wanting to savour and burn this kind warmth into my memory so I can relive it a million times in the future.

When I open them again, my sight is clearer than before, with all the moisture previously clouding them washed away like they have been wiped by the windshield of a car. Jimin looks so close. Over the course of our friendship, I thought I’ve seen all of Jimin, but this is different somehow. He has never looked so attainable. I’ve never wanted him as much as I want him now, right at the cusp of cementing the determination of letting him go forever.

Against my better judgement, I shuffle closer to him, but he doesn’t move away even though he’s now just a hair’s breadth away from me. We’re so close, our breaths are mingling together. His palm is still cradling my cheek. Perhaps I’m deluding myself, but he’s looking at me as if… as if he actually loves me. I’m not sure what came over me, but I lean forward, doing what I’ve always wanted to do but never had the courage to in all the years of knowing him;

I kiss Jimin.

Even though I can feel his surprise from the way his body stiffens and his lips part in astonishment, I keep my eyes squeezed tightly shut, afraid of his reaction now that I’ve taken the plunge. I don’t know what’s possessing me to make such a rash move after holding back for so long, and I’m sure I’ll live to regret it. Either from the embarrassment of being rejected, or from losing Jimin’s friendship. Maybe both. But right at this moment, I don’t care. If I’m never going to have him, the least I can ask for is one kiss, and savour it as much as I can before he pushes me away.

However… he doesn’t do anything of the sort. Quite the opposite, actually. Once he’s gotten over my unexpected move, his arms wrap around me once more, but this isn’t the tender hold meant to comfort me. No, Jimin is squeezing me with a strength that I’m not even aware he possesses, his hand cupping the nape of my neck so he can kiss me more passionately. His tongue teases my bottom lip; not making its way into my mouth, but rather content tracing my lips, as if getting to know every corner of it before going further. It’s like he’s turned the tables on me, leaving me in shock. But not for long. It’s impossible not to react when Jimin’s soft lips are melding into mine, his breaths fanning across my face, the sensations too real for it to be a dream.

It gets even more vivid as his body, much like his mouth, brushes intimately against mine, and I feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire against my stomach. My own body jumps to life immediately. I can feel my blood heating up with need, my leg hugging one of his so I can press my aching pussy against it, and I moan into his throat wantonly. The sound rouses Jimin from his trance, and finally he does what I’d expected him to do from the very start. Sitting up, he breaks the kiss, leaving me disappointed, befuddled and breathless. I hadn’t thought about how I would feel about his reaction – or rather, I didn’t expect that he’d only push me away after reciprocating my kiss, and thus have no clue what to think of it – but his fierce scowl has me trembling in fear. What have I done? Why is he like this?

 “Why did you do that?” Jimin’s voice is rumbling and low, a sure-fire mark of seething anger, and this time I’m on the receiving end. I open my mouth to explain, then close it again. No words will come out. How am I supposed to explain myself? Even if I’m honest with him about my feelings, I already know what his answer will be. While I’ve gone and done the stupidest thing possible, I still can’t bear to hear the rejection from him as he looks straight into my eyes. Seeing that no answer is forthcoming, he bites out, “Do not test me like this.”

He extricates himself from me none too gently, almost kicking my leg off of him so he can get out of the bed. Still trying to gather my wits, I sit up, wanting to call out for him, but he looks back at me, his eyes narrowed in fury as if anticipating what I will do and daring me to do it. I draw back like a frightened deer and let him leave the room. The door closes shut softly, but in the silence of the night following what had transpired, it’s as loud and final as a booming thunderclap in the sky. As much as I want to go after him, I know that’s not a good idea. Especially when I don’t know what to say. What did he mean by testing him? Me kissing him might have been a stupid decision, or even a drunken mistake, but it certainly wasn’t a test. I can’t figure him out. Heck, I can’t even figure myself out.

Even though I should be tired, sleep eludes me tonight. I can’t stop thinking about my unrequited love for Jimin, what happened tonight, the incident that occurred so long ago and all the time in between. With my exhausted body and my overloaded brain wrestling for control, I slip in and out of consciousness several times during the course of the night, but when the darkness is lightened by dawn, I’m still no closer to figuring anything out than I was in the beginning.

Jimin hasn’t returned to the bed, either. A blessing, perhaps, because I can’t face him right now. I’m not sure if I can look at him in the eye ever again. After taking a quick shower, I get dressed and make my way out of the bedroom. As expected, I see him passed out on the sofa in the living room. Guilt hikes up my conscience. I should’ve been the one to take the couch, not him. He hasn’t done anything wrong. But instead of waking him up to tell him to sleep on the bed, I tiptoe out of the room, praying that he wouldn’t wake up.

Yes, I’m running away like the coward I am.

At first I wanted to just leave, but I remember that we’re not in Korea, and my disappearing without notice could cause real panic. So I scribbled a simple note saying, ‘Going out for some fresh air. See you later.’ and left it on the small wooden table next to the couch Jimin was sleeping on before slipping out. It doesn’t diminish my guilt for abandoning him on a trip like this, but it does lessen it somewhat.

Not enough for me to enjoy the time by myself, though. Even though the nasi lemak highly recommended by locals and tourists alike hits all the spicy and yummy levels on the scale, the rich coconut rice accompanied by fried anchovies and peanuts, slices of cucumber, boiled egg and fried chicken – talk about decimating two generations in one go – is only enough to fill my stomach, not my happiness meter. I stay long after my food is gone, sipping the milk tea absent-mindedly until late morning, when I figure some of the touristy places must be open by now.

Using the handy app, I get drivers to take me around a temple and a museum, but as interesting and beautiful as they are, I’m unable to get myself to enjoy them. After ending up walking aimlessly and failing to take anything in, I accept the fact that I’m just wasting my time. Resolving to find a way out, I pop into the first café that I see. With a clear aim in mind, I try to focus, forcing myself to push past the dense fog of self-loathing and denial.

Yet still almost an hour later, I can’t think of anything to say to Jimin. Is there any excuse for acting as moody as I have been, lashing out at him, then getting stupidly drunk and making a move on him like that? On top of that, I even walked out while he was sleeping. He has every right to be royally pissed off at me. Knowing Jimin though, he’s too kind to be mad at me for long. He really is more than I deserve. Looks like I’ll have to be angry at myself for the both of us. And I think that I’m doing the job quite well on my own.

In the end when I pull out my phone, instead of a long explanation that Jimin deserves, I type, ‘Jimin, I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t in my right mind. Please let me know how I can make it up to you.’

Before I can close the chat, a reply from Jimin appears on the screen. ‘When will you be back?’

I hesitate, wondering which answer would be the right one. Does Jimin want me to come back, or is he so angry that he wishes not to see me, at least for a little while? ‘Do you want me to go back now?’

While waiting for Jimin to type out his answer, I fidget in my seat, belatedly weighing my choice of words. Did I sound like an errant child who is being questioned by her parents about her whereabouts? Or did it sound like a desperate admirer finally being given the time of day? The latter is probably closer to the truth, I laugh deprecatingly at myself. Jimin’s reply, however, doesn’t fall within my expectations;

‘The sooner the better.’

Curiosity filling me to the brim, I quickly make my way back to the hotel. Why on Earth would Jimin want me to come back as soon as I could? Does he not want to do anything touristy by himself? Or does he want to scold me? Or… does he want to continue where we stopped last night? I shake my head in disbelief at my foolish dreams. As if he’d want to do that. Pushing me away and sleeping on the couch made his rejection painfully clear.

Heart threatening to burst out of my chest in anticipation and fear, I pause for a minute to take a deep breath before opening the door to the hotel room that Jimin and I share. “Sorry I–“

“There you are.” Jimin greets me with a smile that has my pulse racing. Memories of last night flood my mind just at the sight of him, but somehow Jimin is acting like nothing had happened. I should be relieved, but for some reason I feel dismayed. Did the kiss mean nothing to him after all? After pushing me away and going so far as to sleep on the couch, I thought my coming onto him had an effect – anger, frustration, befuddlement – something. Anything. I’d risked everything for that kiss. And for a second, I was sure that he’d kissed me back. It doesn’t seem like something that can be swept under a rug. I was expecting a severe scolding. A less sane part of my brain feeds to the hope that he would pull me into his arms and kiss me, just as passionately as we did last night. However, he’s just walking around the room, collecting things as he speaks. It feels anticlimactic.

“Have you had lunch?”

I shake my head. I’ve only had a cup of coffee at the café while I agonised over what to say to him. I haven’t given a thought about lunch. Looks like all that effort was just a waste of time.

“Good. Are you ready to go? Let’s grab some food together,” he says, swiping up keys from the small table where I’d left the note for him this morning.

“Uh, okay,” I reply stupidly, not really being given a choice, as Jimin strides past me to get the door. He is acting slightly weird, but at least he doesn’t seem outwardly angry at me. I’m not sure if this is better, but my instincts tell me to go with the flow, so I follow him out of the building without protest.

“Where are we going?” Instead of waiting at the hotel lobby to call a driver, he leads me to the parking lot next to the hotel. My bewilderment deepens when he presses a button on the set of keys and a silver sedan unlocks with a flash of lights and a friendly beep. “How did you–?”

“Rented it,” Jimin answers simply, opening the passenger door and beckoning me in. In my state of confusion, I thought he wanted me to drive, but then I remember that here the driver’s seat is on the right, not the left. “It’s not that hard to find, and I can just leave the key at the hotel lobby for the owner to collect later.”

“Okay…” It doesn’t really answer the question I have in mind, but I’m not even sure what I want to ask, so I suppose this answer is as good as any.

“Buckle up.” Before I can follow up on his instructions though, he reaches over my seat to pull the seat belt and strap me in. When his body brushes against mine, all the air whooshes out of my lungs, like I’ve been hit in the stomach. He may be able to do it but no, I can’t pretend last night didn’t happen. But I want to remain friends with Jimin more than anything else, so I don’t comment on it, even if I can’t act as nonchalantly as he is.

He has no problem driving on the opposite side, easing out of the parking and making his way down the small alley to join the busy main road with no issues. The only thing that might clue anyone in that he’s not actually from around here is his phone on its holder on the dashboard, displaying the directions to our destination on the navigation app. It says that we will take about forty minutes to get there, but not the actual location we’re headed to. “Where are we going?” I repeat my question from earlier. “Is it too far to get a driver to drive us there?”

“Hmm.” Instead of answering me, Jimin glances at the screen of his phone. “It’ll take us a little under an hour to get there, so I guess it is kind of far, or maybe too expensive?”

“Uh.” I’m not sure what to say to that. How am I supposed to know how much it’ll cost us to get there with a driver, or how far is ‘far’? A question better kept to myself, because I’m sure Jimin would find it ridiculous if I voice it out loud. Why ask when I’ve no idea what I want to get out of it?

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Jimin continues, seemingly knowing what I want to say when I don’t even know it myself, as usual. “I’d like to spend some quality time alone with you, just the two of us. It’s not the same when there’s a driver here.”

“Oh... okay.” My dead heart sputters weakly to life, but I tell myself not to read too much into it. Isn’t that what always gets me into trouble and hurts me in the first place? “It does feel a little awkward to chat between the two of us when there’s someone else there.” Yeah, that sounds like what a friend with no romantic feelings would say on the matter.

Laughing, Jimin nods, agreeing with my statement. “I totally get you! Even if we’re not speaking in English, I feel really guilty when we don’t include them in the conversation.”

“It’s the worst when the driver is totally quiet and unfriendly!” Relieved, I catch Jimin’s jovial, cheerful energy and run with it, happy that this car ride isn’t going to be as awkward as I was afraid it would be.

“What about those who play awful music?” Jimin challenges.

“No, no, that’s still not as bad as the ones who don’t play anything and won’t say a word!”

In this vein, we continue merrily all the way along the coastline of the island. “Look, Jimin, there’s an island over there!”

“Hmm?” Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, he briefly looks in the direction I’m pointing at. “Oh, that’s pretty close, isn’t it? I wonder what island it is.”

“Yeah, there’s a ferry making its way over there,” I inform him as I figure out the keywords to type into my phone to find out about the island. “Turns out it was a leprosarium, then became a quarantine station, and then a prison, but now it’s a resort.”

“Yikes, that’s weird.” Jimin cocks his head, unsure whether to laugh or disapprove. His sentiment echoes mine.

“I know, right?” Casting a look at the cluster of buildings I can see from inside the car, I try to reason the decision behind building a resort there. “Maybe there’s something that still draws people to it, even with its history.”

“Maybe.” His concentration back on driving, Jimin simply agrees with my assumption. “Maybe we can check it out next time.”

Next time? Just two words can make my mind race with endless possibilities, but I force myself not to think about them. It’s probably Jimin making polite conversation. I watch him steer the car smoothly out of the exit, gliding onto the spacious bridge that spans out almost ninety degrees away from the island. “You’re really good at this.” Grasping for a topic that would take my mind off his vague invitation to come to the island again, I comment on his superb driving skills on the left side of the road.

“Oh, yeah, it’s not my first time.” Even though he tries to play it off coolly, I can make out the smug smile yanking at the corners of his lips. It’s so easy to make Jimin happy — just a praise and he’d be on cloud nine. Like a cute puppy. I try not to laugh at the imagery. “Several of the countries I’ve been to also drive on this side.”

“Oh... really.” Just like that, the wind is blown right out of my sails. Are these the trips that he’d invited me to, but I couldn’t go either because of work or because I thought that going on one with him would be too much for me to take? Whom did he go with? Were other girls there with him? My jeans are too unforgiving for me to grab, so I clench my fists around nothing; the dull pain of my nails digging into my palm feeling like a punishment I very much deserve. I don’t have the right to ask or even think of any of this. The more I ponder on it, the more pain I’ll put myself through; I know this, I’ve told myself countless times, yet I still can’t stop myself from doing it.

Thankfully, just then, Jimin’s stomach roars past my troubled thoughts. “Have you eaten anything?” I ask him guiltily, remembering that I’d left him to his own devices just this morning.

“Yeah, just something light near the hotel.” He grins sheepishly, his right hand leaving the steering wheel to push his hair back to cover his embarrassment. Somehow he melts my soul with his cuteness when he makes such an expression, and when he concentrates on driving again, he makes my heart thump hard from how cool he’s become. Feeling flustered on my own, I whip my head to the left to turn my attention out the window once again. There isn’t anything out of the ordinary to capture my attention this time, so I’m left to the mercy of my self-deprecating line of thinking until Jimin’s poor stomach rumbles again.

“Maybe we should stop to get something to eat.” Really, I don’t need any more reminders of my childish behaviour from last night to this morning. I don’t know if I can feel any worse than this.

Chuckling apologetically, Jimin reassures me, “It’s fine, we’re going to a place where we can eat.”

Slightly irritated that I have to ask this a third time, I grind out, “and where would that be?”

“You’ll see,” Jimin says teasingly, darkening my mood, but I don’t retaliate — I shouldn’t be cross with him.

“Well, I hope it’s not too far from here.” Giving in, I simply cross my arms petulantly. “If I hear your stomach growling one more time, I’m gonna go deaf.”

As Jimin promised, it’s not too far after we’ve gotten off the bridge. “This is still Penang, you know,” he informs me as he veers left to exit the highway. “It’s not just the island; part of Penang is also on the mainland.”

“Really...” It’s interesting that he’s playing the tour guide now. All the top Penang attractions I saw on the Internet are on the island, so I’d missed this fact. I wonder what Jimin has found that makes it worth driving all the way here. It doesn’t look to be a bustling city like Georgetown. While not exactly rural, the town seems more relaxed, with two-storied shops and houses filling the landscape instead of towering buildings. After only a few turns, we enter an even less developed area, this one a village. Brick houses are mixed with ones made out of wood, with trees growing all over the place, lending the scenery on both sides of the road a more natural appearance, different from the carefully structured planning of the city.

Shortly after, Jimin turns right and pulls over by the side of the road. I peer over the dashboard to see what’s in front of us — it’s a dead end. “Are we here?”

“Yup,” Jimin quips happily, getting out of the car, and I follow suit. It really feels like we’re in the middle of nowhere. Especially since we’re at the end of the road, facing a river with a very narrow bridge that’s only wide enough for pedestrians and motorists to cross, giving the impression that there’s no way out.

However, the small shop on my left at the end of the row catches my attention. I can tell that it’s been there for years and years; there’s an air of homeliness, like it has blended completely with the surroundings, and it’s filled with people. Most of them are much older than Jimin and I — probably around our parents’ age, or maybe even older than that. From their relaxed, casual dressing, they seem to be villagers. A few men are chatting excitedly over white cups of coffee, but the other patrons are all eating, despite it being slightly late for lunch. Jimin and I sit at one of the two tables just beyond the threshold of the shop, which is the only one available. I shift in my seat a little, looking around for a menu. They’re usually displayed somewhere on the wall, or given on the tables, but I don’t see any. “Ah, you’re the one who called earlier, yes?” A middle- aged man comes over to our table, all smiles as he greets us.

“Oh, you remember me?” Jimin’s obvious surprise at being remembered has the man chuckling good-naturedly.

“Of course, we very rarely see foreigners all the way out here,” the man, later introducing himself as the owner, explains to us. “It’s not exactly a touristy place. There’s a university campus close by, and I bet not even half of them know about this restaurant!”

Neither of us know how to respond to that, but the owner seems more than happy with the customers he has. And from the lack of empty tables, I’m guessing this place is actually a local favourite — with the villagers, if not the students of the nearby campus. Small and out of the way it may be, but this restaurant has a certain charm to it. The menu turns out to be very simple; freshwater curry prawns, fried fish with three-flavoured sauce and stir-fried cabbage. We forgo the fish in favour of the prawns, which were caught just this morning, and is the signature dish, as well as the cabbage.

Thanks to the simple and limited menu, our food arrives at our table quickly. The owner recommended that we get bread to accompany our prawns instead of rice, and I’m glad we’d followed his advice. The slices of white bread are perfect for soaking up the curry, and the concentrated flavour married to the sweetness of the fresh prawns is nothing short of bliss. In his state of hunger, Jimin had ordered a daunting kilogram of prawns, and although it takes us a while to finish them, it’s not as gargantuan a task as I was afraid of when I first saw the plate. Washing down the food with some homemade sugar cane juice, I smack my lips happily at Jimin. “How did you find this place?”

“It was just a stroke of luck. I was scrolling through the phone while waiting for you to come back when I saw it.” It might have sounded like Jimin was trying to make me feel guilty if he didn’t say it with a nonchalant shrug and follow it with, “I was hoping to help you take your mind off of things.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. It seems like I haven’t made such a blunder last night as I’d thought I did. He was so angry when he’d pushed me away then, even though he’d reciprocated the kiss for a bit. I’m sure I hadn’t imagined that. What was that all about then? Something tells me that it wouldn’t be a wise decision to ask, as much as I’m dying to find out. The last thing I want to do is to sour the mood once again, after Jimin had gone out of his way to make me feel better. It’s more than I deserve, after the way I’ve treated him. So I decide to just play along, ignoring the stronger feelings and questions burning away at me, like I always do. As long as I can keep being by Jimin’s side. The momentary lapse in judgement last night could have destroyed our friendship, but somehow we’re still here, eating and talking and laughing like nothing had happened. The enormous burden that the fear of losing Jimin had pressed on my chest eases off of it, now that I’m assured that things are back to normal. Although the niggling desire for something more remains there. Always there. “Thanks, Jimin.”

Jimin’s smile at my appreciation is more dazzling than the late afternoon sun behind us. The sight of it cements our friendship, now back to equilibrium. Our passionate kiss is to become a hazy, slightly drunk mistake, and will be swept under the rug to be forgotten forever, except in the innermost secret corner of my heart, where I tuck in the sweetest memories of myself with Jimin. Tiny, insignificant instances that are surely nothing to him, but are the most precious jewels of my life, to be taken out and admired whenever I’m at my lowest and loneliest. Or sometimes even when I’m not. 

A belly full is one of the easiest ways to make Jimin happy; next to praising him, and seeing him happy is definitely the simplest way to make me happy in turn. How can I not be, when presented with those bright giggles that eat up his whole body, always leaving his position on any chair in precarious balance, and scrunching up his face so adorably? Before I get lost in my thoughts of him again, I snap myself out of it by asking, “So, where to next, Mr. Tour Guide?”

My impromptu title for him jolts him into an upright position in his red plastic chair, immediately assuming a serious, business-like mien that has me in stitches. “Ahem,” he glares at me warningly, wanting me to play along. “Looks like we have–“ he takes a peek at his watch “–a bit of time left before dusk. But I think we should go soon.” Indeed, we had been sitting there for way past an hour, and the place is completely empty of other customers now. I wonder if the owner is keeping the shop open for our sake. Clearly Jimin is thinking the same thing, because he thanks the owner profusely as he pays for our meal before we leave the premises.

As Jimin skilfully manoeuvres the car out of the dead end, he playfully manoeuvres his way out of answering my increasingly insistent questions regarding our next destination. His refusal to tell me only digs my hole of curiosity deeper and deeper, however, I can’t help but laugh and wish that he doesn’t give in to my badgering. For Jimin to be this happily secretive; it must be a pleasant surprise, right? Despite myself, I’m starting to really look forward to the unknown evening plans.

Instead of going to the mysterious location, though, he drives us around the small town. As expected, there isn’t much for visitors to be interested in. “There is supposed to be a haunted mansion somewhere in here,” Jimin interrupts his tour-guide-like speech by breaking into an evil grin, the picture of the very devil with the dark orange and red hues of the sky colouring the background behind him. “Wanna go and see it?”

I don’t have to look at the rubber plantation on our left to imagine the horrors that await beyond the rows of rubber trees. “NO!” Finding Jimin’s raucous guffawing grating on my indignity, I pout petulantly at him. “Hmph. You laugh at me, but you don’t want to go either, do you?”

That was effective in getting him to stop. “You got me there.”

“Really, what would you have done if I’d said, ‘let’s go’? I bet you’d pee your pants!”

“No I wouldn’t!” It’s Jimin’s turn to be affronted. I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep myself from bursting with laughter. “I’d just say we don’t have enough time to visit it, because I’ve already made other arrangements.”

“Oh, have you now?” Every opportunity to tease him is a chance that cannot be wasted. “And is that really true?”

“No,” he admits unabashedly, drawing chuckles from both of us. Just like Jimin knows I’m not the greatest with ghosts, I’m perfectly aware of how easy it is to scare him. “The house has an interesting story to it though. It’s supposed to have ninety-nine doors.”

“Really?” Scaredy cat I may be, but I always love a good story regardless of the genre. Horror stories are always great – as long as I don’t have to watch, or heaven forbid, experience it myself. “I wonder how big it is, to have that many doors. It’s such a specific number though.”

Jimin shrugs, not knowing the answer to that and seemingly not caring enough to find out. “A witch doctor is supposed to be staying there now.”

“Oh?” Since Jimin has turned the car around, I peer at the trees now on my right, trying to catch a glimpse of the mansion in vain. “I wonder what happened to the owners.”

“Murdered, supposedly.”

With a shiver, I tear my gaze away from the shadows of the trees that had been hypnotically pulling me in. “Okay, let’s stop talking about it. It’s giving me the creeps.”

“Aww, sorry if I scared you.” Letting the car move at a snail’s pace along the empty road, Jimin strokes my hair gently. Normally my instinct would be to swipe his hand away, perhaps with a warning to not treat me like a child. However, his touch is oddly soothing, so I simply sit back in my seat, enjoying the comforting touch. It’s not often that Jimin would treat me as preciously as this. Better set aside my ego and make the most of it.

In no time at all, we’ve arrived at a parking lot next to the river. I don’t see the curry prawn restaurant anywhere, and I wonder if we’re currently on the other side. I’m pretty sure we crossed a bridge at some point. Jimin leads me out of the car and up some narrow steps to a small jetty. Sitting down along one of the edges with our legs hanging over the side, we settle down to gaze at the beautiful sunset. “I was going to book a sunset cruise, but I wasn’t sure if we’d get here in time for that.”

“Sorry,” I apologise again in a small voice. Although it isn’t Jimin’s intention to make me feel bad, I can’t get over my guilt. I’m sure if the tables were turned, I’d be completely livid with him. So to have him treat me this kindly makes me feel doubly worse. “I don’t know what came over me.” At least that’s the truth. After managing to reign my feelings for Jimin in for so long, to have it all spill in the span of one night was beyond careless. It’s unbelievable.

Lucky for me, Jimin remains mostly oblivious to the whole thing. “It’s okay. I’d be out of sorts too,  if my girlfriend did to me what Se Hoon did to you.” Jimin tries to lay his hand on my shoulder, but I move away.

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I mean, hypothetically.”

“Oh.” My idiocy knows no bounds. I settle down again next to him, trying to play it off like I was just surprised that he had a girlfriend that I didn’t know of. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s had one, but he had always told me about them. It pained me to listen, every single time, but I did anyway, because in a perverse way, I wanted to know about the girls that Jimin is into. Not that any of it matters. Nothing would change the fact that he isn’t interested in me. Even after everything that had transpired last night; after I’d told him that he’d rejected me before I could even tell him how I feel, after that kiss – especially after that kiss – he still doesn’t realise. That’s how little thought he has given to having me as someone more than just a friend. Zero thought. He just thinks that I’m unstable and vulnerable after a bad breakup and is trying to be a good friend. My wandering hand finds a small pebble on the dusty and less than clean jetty, and throws it into the river with all my might. That’s what I need right now. A good friend. Yeah.

All in all, I suppose I have to be grateful. At least things haven’t become awkward between us. I can even almost enjoy the gradual darkening of the sky as the wisps of colour dissipate into the overwhelming dark blues and blacks. Not far behind us, lights from the building next to the jetty battle against the darkness, illuminating the river and trees beyond. “What’s that place?” I wonder aloud.

“A café,” Jimin replies, catching me by surprise. I didn’t expect him to know. Peering at the two-story building curiously, I see waiters seating some customers at a table on the space on the first floor, which is left open to the elements.

“It looks nice.”

“I’m glad you think so.” There is a note of relief in Jimin’s voice. “I booked a table for us, for dinner later.”

“Didn’t we eat just a few hours ago?” Trust Jimin to want to eat again so soon. I can still taste the thick curry on my tongue as I laugh and shake my head at him.

“No, no, you got it all wrong.” He levels his serious gaze at me. “I believe it’s already been a few hours since we last ate.”

Trying not to spray saliva all over him, I curl my lips down in an effort to hold in my mirth. “Is that why we’re here, then?”

“No, actually we – oh! Speak of the devil.” His words are interrupted as our space is invaded by a man who looks like he hasn’t slept in a year. Despite his tired appearance, he’s still all smiles. “Mr. Jimin?” He inquires.

“Yes, that’s me,” Jimin confirms. “I was starting to worry that you’re not coming.”

“Sorry for being late! My wife was supposed to wake me up from my nap, but then between cooking and our son, I was forgotten.” Jimin and I exchange amused glances. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who thought that the man could do with some sleep. “But that’s okay, since it’s just the two of you today, I’d say we’re right on time. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I whisper to Jimin as the man leads us down the jetty and into a boat, which can easily accommodate at least six people, but will apparently only bring the three of us tonight.

“You’ll see,” Jimin sits next to me and squeezes my hand, determined to not give anything away. If I was told that I’d be getting in a small boat with a stranger in the middle of nowhere, shrouded by the cloak of darkness a few days ago, I’d be alarmed. However, Jimin’s presence changes the experience into an exciting, mysterious adventure.

And we’re off.

The boat glides away from the jetty and the lights of the café, further and further into the ghostly arms of the shadows, barely making any noise. Soon, the river widens, and we can no longer see any signs of civilisation. Only the moon, a whisper away from being full, and the glinting stars offer any glowing relief to the endless blackness, made even darker by the trees lining the riverbank. “These are mangrove trees, called berembang,” our tour guide gestures to the crowding trees clustered together, shielding everything on land from view. I doubt I would be able to see anything but branches and leaves even if we came during the day.

But we’re here at night, and a different sight awaits us.

Our guide steers us close to the riverbank, and stops the boat. “Anytime now,” he informs us cryptically, and I take a look around. What are we supposed to see? With the meagre illumination from the moon and the stars, most of the trees remain in eerie shadows. I silently hope that we’re not on some ghost-hunting expedition. For a split second, I feel panic rising within, but then I remember that there’s no way Jimin would want to go for such an experience either.

Then I see it. A blinking light, so soft and unworldly that I thought I’m seeing things. Before I can pull on Jimin’s shirt to ask him if he saw what I’d seen, I see another small, flickering glow. And another. And another. Suddenly we’re surrounded by them; tiny lights that shine brightly, suddenly from seemingly random locations, making the trees around us glitter like Christmas trees. “Wow!” I whisper in awe.

“Fireflies,” Jimin breathes into my ear, his hushed tone pulling me in against him, unthinkingly wanting to be close to him in such a magical world that we’ve been suspended in. Their light joins the reflection of the stars in the river. Our very own stars on earth. With Jimin’s arm holding me tightly and the ethereal scenery all around us, it’s hard to tell if I’m awake or if I’m  in the most amazing dream I’ve ever had. The same gentle light from the fireflies that juxtaposes with the inky blackness of the night also casts an angelic glow over Jimin’s features, taking my breath away. There’s something in the atmosphere that makes me feel closer to him than usual, and that makes the whole experience even more dreamlike. My hand stretches out to touch the marvels of nature, but even if I can reach them, I can’t bear to actually brush against them for fear of hurting such minute, wondrous creatures, or bring myself back to the real world. So we watch them in silence for a while, until the tour guide breaks the moment by asking if we’re ready to go back.

It feels like time has stopped while we were on our journey, but in reality, only about an hour has passed. Part of me wanted to stay there forever, surrounded by glimmering lights, where real life feels so far away. To be with Jimin, just the two of us. The lights from the café next to the jetty, while not exceptionally bright, are jarring in comparison to the gentle twinkling of the fireflies. I almost refuse to get off the boat. However, all good things must come to an end, and I let Jimin help me out of the boat and lead me to the café.

“Are you hungry?” He asks after we’re seated at one of the tables on the open first floor.

“Mmm, not really,” I muse as I thumb through the menu. Majority of the food here is of the western variety, and although I do enjoy it, I’m still full of the prawn from earlier. Mostly I’m eager to hold on to the memories of the boat ride. Irrationally, I’m afraid that having a meal would distract me and cause the warmth of Jimin’s embrace as well as the magic of the fireflies to slip through my fingers.

“Neither am I,” Jimin sighs with regret, clearly wishing that he could fit some more food into his stomach. With an eye roll, I tell him that I’m not surprised – he ate the lion’s share of the prawns, and there was way more than what two people could normally eat. “Maybe we can share a cake.”

“Ooooh, cake!” His suggestion is met with enthusiasm on my part. Although I’m loathe to share my dessert with anyone, Jimin is – a very, very occasional – exception, and my stomach is panicking at the thought of being stuffed with more food, so I relent. The burnt cheesecake we choose makes me regret having to share a little. It’s downright heavenly; I can probably eat all the slices available if I don’t mind the button of my jeans popping right off. Thankfully, Jimin is fuller than I am, and gives up after about two small bites. “Are you sure you don’t want any more?” This is a treat that warrants opening up that extra stomach I know we all have for dessert, but at the same time, I slyly hope that he doesn’t take me up on my offer.

Shaking his head, he gestures for me to finish it. Quick as lightning, I pull the plate towards my side of the table gleefully. Now that I don’t have to share it with anyone, I can take my time to savour it. In my excitement, I don’t sense Jimin’s intent gaze on me until I’m about halfway through the slice. Realising that I must look like a complete and utter glutton, I pause and smile at him sheepishly, trying to wipe off any crumbs as inconspicuously as I can. Trying to cover my embarrassment, my mind races for something to say. “Thank you for such a great day.” I can’t believe I didn’t think about telling him this until now. He must have put a lot of thought into this, and at the last minute, too.

Those words bring the most tender expression I’ve ever seen grace Jimin’s face. My breath stills for a moment to give my brain a chance to process and commit the sight to memory. “Everyone needs to feel loved once in a while, right?” This is the first time I’ve heard him say such a thing so seriously, without it sounding like an off-handed comment. He always makes these sort of statements like it’s an insignificant matter, sometimes literally waving the words away with his hand in the air as he says them. However, the look in his eyes is intense, as if I’m the only thing he can see. It helps his words come across — I do feel very loved. Maybe not in the way I’m hoping from him, but loved nevertheless. At least that’s what I think, until he continues, “And if I could, I want to cherish you always.”

This is the problem I have with Jimin. Biting my tongue to keep from asking him to elaborate his statement, I try to not get my hopes up. He’s forever uttering things that make me feel special, while I know he doesn’t mean anything by them. His rejection from years ago is as clear in my mind as if it happened yesterday. Yet to this day I still can’t get over him, even after being forced to hear the bitter truth ages ago. “Thanks.” Lowering my gaze towards my plate to hide my tears, I stab at the cake. Suddenly the delicious dessert doesn’t look so appealing anymore. “You don’t need to go this far just because you feel bad for me though. I’m a big girl. I can handle a breakup or two.”

My statement, heavily injected with denial, is met with complete silence. Nervously, I lift my head, chancing a glance at him out of curiosity. His soft features have been rearranged to one of... anger? Frustration? He’s taking deep breaths, as if to calm himself down. At the moment, he’s about to burst into a tirade, which occasionally happens when I do something stupid that warrants a scolding from him. But this time, for some reason, he’s trying to hold it in. While I’ve never relished being reprimanded like a child, no matter how much I deserve it, funnily enough, I find myself eager to find out what he’s trying so hard to keep in. “I didn’t do any of this because I feel bad for you,” he grinds out between his teeth — even after cooling down somewhat, he’s unable to completely contain his vexation. If this is his tempered down version, what had he originally meant to say? “It’s only because you’ve broken up that I can do this. I’ve always wanted to indulge you. All the time if I could, but you’ve always had a boyfriend, haven’t you? I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

Okay, this is seriously maddening. How am I supposed to get over him when he frequently sends mixed signals through his words and actions? Sometimes I really want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him hard and demand him to treat me like a friend since he only sees me as one. I like to tell myself that he treats me differently than his other female friends when I watch him interact with them, but I cannot convince myself that this is true. I know I can’t look at them objectively. What if I’m fantasising by myself, fancying that he treats me better, when in reality he behaves similarly towards everyone, and I’m just seeing him with rose-tinted lenses? I really hate myself when I’m like this. When it comes to Jimin, my logic lays down the hard truth mercilessly, but my wishful side can never fully accept it, encouraging me to indulge in useless visions of us together. 

Out of reflex more than anything else, I laugh self-deprecatingly. If imagining being with Jimin would bring me the most pain, then I’ll just focus on everything else. Even if that may hurt me as well. Nothing can be as bad as being rejected by him. And thanks to my brain reminding me that he doesn’t want me everytime I fantasise about us, I’ve felt the pain of rejection again and again, even if it’s all replayed memories in my own head. “Being single sucks,” I try to make it out as a joke, stabbing at the cake, picturing Se Hoon’s face there and maiming him repeatedly. It’s nowhere near as satisfying as it would be to do it to the real thing. He’s the reason Jimin is here now, so close to me for such a long duration while I’m single and vulnerable. Fucking Se Hoon. “It just reminds me that I’m not good enough for the guy I really want.”

“That guy must be the stupidest person on Earth,” Jimin quips loyally at once. I keep my head down so he doesn’t see me roll my eyes at his ignorant statement. How can he be so dense? The most devastating moment of my life, doled out by the person I love most, my best friend, and he doesn’t even remember that he was the one who’d said that.

Jimin and I have known each other since we were in kindergarten, but I have no idea how long it has been since I fell in love with him. It’s just one of those emotions that builds up gradually, so subtly that you don’t notice until one day; BAM! You realise that you love him and there’s no turning back. But even back then, before the rejection,  we’d grown really close, and I wasn’t sure if it was wise to jeopardise our friendship by coming clean about my romantic feelings for him.

It turned out that my hesitation was for the best, because Jimin made his feelings for me crystal clear in our second year of high school. He doesn’t know that I’m aware of it, though, since I’d heard my name being mentioned by one of his friends as I was approaching, and quietly hid against the wall around the corner to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Jimin’s then-new-girlfriend was with the group, being harassed by one of his friends, Ji Woo. Although I can’t remember who she was, or even her face, I do remember feeling some satisfaction over the fact that Jimin’s friends didn’t like her. It was a feeling that I shared. “I’m surprised you’re with her, Jimin,” Ji Woo had commented, not at all caring that she was right there with them. “When there’s already a perfect girl for you.”

“Really?” Jimin had pressed the button on the vending machine, and I’d heard the loud clanking sound of his drink being dropped into the hatch. “And who is it? Must have walked right by me.”

“He means your best friend, you dumbass,” another one of Jimin’s friends, Ha Rim, had filled him in. His then-girlfriend had made an outraged sound at hearing Jimin’s friends promote me to replace her, but no one other than Jimin seemed to pay her any attention. They were acting like only thin air was present where she stood, which was a good indication of how annoying she was. I never understood what Jimin had seen in her. True, she was extremely pretty, but other than that, she had no redeeming qualities. Peeking out of my corner, I’d seen Jimin rub her shoulder placatingly as he’d chuckled.

He’d said my name in a disbelieving tone, as if the idea of me being his girlfriend was so ridiculous that it was out of this world. The way he’d said it echoed in my mind for many weeks after that. I could still hear it in my head sometimes. “She’s one of us, yeah? You don’t fuck a bro, that’s gross.”

“I don’t know if she’d appreciate you treating her like one of the ‘bros’, Jimin,” Ha Rim had rebuked him gently, but it didn’t change Jimin’s mind. He’d just shrugged, not willing to get into an argument with them.

“Whatever it is, she’s just not girlfriend material.”

I hadn’t stayed to hear anything else after that, since I’d fled from the scene, afraid that my sobs would break out and they would discover me. Since then I’d done everything I could think of to get over him, but nothing had worked. All my boyfriends were just distractions, temporary fixes to the gaping hole in my heart that could never be filled.

“How I wish he knew that,” I say cryptically. A savage laugh bubbles up my throat, hearing Jimin unknowingly call himself stupid, but I refrain myself. My rage over his befuddling attitude still manages to sour the delectable dessert, and I shove down the rest of it. Before the day is completely ruined, it’s better if we return to the hotel. 

Being the dense dummy that he is, Jimin doesn’t notice that anything’s amiss, and we get into the car to drive back without incident. The bridge back to the island isn’t too far off from the small town and soon we’re on it once more. “There’s another bridge connecting the island to the mainland, you know,” Jimin breaks the more-or-less comfortable silence with this little tidbit of information.

“I know. You can see it from this bridge.” It makes me look to my right, past Jimin in the direction of the first bridge, just to double-check if I can see it from here. I’m sure I saw it during the day, but it’s a completely different scene now that it’s nighttime. The orange lamps overhead lighting our way along the second bridge are dull, but the same ones appear romantic and beautiful after a stretch of darkness in between the two bridges, illuminating the first bridge. Is the view of the second bridge just as pretty if we were to look at it from the first one? I’m not sure, but I’m content with enjoying the view from here.

“Then do you know that this is the longest bridge in Malaysia?” Jimin’s voice draws my eyes back from the distance to the man being outlined by the scenery I’ve been staring at. Unlike the flickering glow of the fireflies, the bulbs shine relentlessly from afar, never giving up on irradiating Jimin’s face. While not quite the same view, these lights make him look just as dazzling as he had in the boat. A halo of soft backlight, juxtaposing against the night to bathe him in their radiance.

Although I’ve been staring at him like an idiot, or perhaps because I’m proving myself a veritable one, only when he calls my name does it dawn on me that we’re having a conversation. Well, sort of. I’m not really in a chatty mood, but he has been making stabs at sparking up a discussion. “Uh,” I grunt without thinking, then mentally hit myself for pushing myself further down the ‘being a dummy’ road.

“What does that mean?” Jimin laughs, sparing me a quick glance before turning his focus back on the road. The windsocks are blowing merrily in a perpendicular direction to the mostly straight lanes, and Jimin is taking care not to drive too fast. It’s hard for me to ensure that we’re not speeding when there are hardly any cars around to compare our speed to. I can almost believe that Jimin and I are the only ones in this world, on a never-ending road surrounded by the sea. “Do you know or not?”

“No.” My eyes shift away as I answer, since I have no idea what I don’t know. Which is a fair answer – either I didn’t hear what he’d asked me, or I simply got distracted and forgot. Both sounds highly likely. Sensing a risk of him further probing me on whatever topic it is and figuring out that I haven’t been paying attention, I roll down the car window, hoping some fresh air will clear my mind.

Boy, is that a wrong decision. A strong, unrelenting gust of wind immediately blasts into the car. Jimin’s surprised yelp is barely heard over the loud howl from the sea, exacerbated by the speed we’re going at. Before the window has even reached halfway down, I pull the tiny lever the other way, quickly closing it back up.

“What was that?” As soon as soothing quiet fills the car again, Jimin demands to know the reason behind my inexplicable actions. While he doesn’t sound angry, it’s obvious that he’s genuinely concerned. I can’t blame him, after everything that’s been happening since last night. “You’ve been acting really weird.”

My reflection on the window on my side of the car shows a frowning woman with mussed hair chewing nervously on her bottom lip, brows fused together in confusion and frustration. “I feel out of it. But I’m not sure why.” This much is true. After suppressing my feelings for Jimin successfully since I was in school, why are they surfacing now? If I’ve known that we will never end up together for just as long, why is the pain becoming unbearable now? How can one kiss cause my world to implode? The emotional roller coaster has wrung me out and left me completely bewildered. Everything is so jumbled up inside my head that I’m not even sure where to even begin unravelling the mess.

At first Jimin doesn’t respond, which is understandable. I wouldn’t know what to say to such a vague statement either. We eventually reach the other end of the bridge. The scenery morphs from a dreamy wonderland to cold reality, with factories lining up the side of the road, replacing the endless sea. “Who’s that guy?”

“What guy?” This time I’m sure I haven’t been wrapped in my own thoughts, yet I still can’t make the head or tail of whatever Jimin is asking. Maybe I’ve lost all my wits for the second night in a row, even though this time there isn’t a drop of alcohol in me.

“The one that you want,” he clarifies bluntly.

What am I supposed to answer? ‘It’s you, stupid’?

Not wanting to make the rest of the ride more awkward than it is, I shrug. “Just a guy.” Just the kindest, perfect, heart-warming, densest guy.

Up until he parks the car next to the hotel, Jimin attempts to wear down my defenses, unwilling to leave his curiosity unsatisfied since I don’t fly off the handle or directly ask him to stop. Truthfully, the urge to tell him is becoming stronger by the minute. The dam holding my feelings back has become strained without my noticing. Just one more drop of persuasion threatens to loosen my tongue.

After making sure that I’ve gotten out of the car safely and closed the door, he locks the car. However, when he starts walking towards the hotel, I follow him at a much slower pace, lagging behind. Alternating between looking at the ground and his lean back. It doesn’t take long for him to notice that I’m getting farther and farther away from him; my slowing and fainting footsteps are a giveaway. Unsurprisingly, he turns back, wanting to return for me. However, his approach only heightens my nervousness. “Do you really want to know who he is?” I blurt out when he’s about a meter away from me. If he gets any closer, I don’t think I’ll be able to gather the courage to say it.

Thankfully, he stops at my question. Sensing my vulnerability. Like a bewildered, terrified animal, wary of anyone getting closer. “Of course, if you’re okay with sharing with me.”

Before I can change my mind or rethink my decision, I take the plunge. “It’s you.”

“Huh?” Why is he acting shocked? I think angrily, unfairly. He has no right to be surprised by this. This is not supposed to be news to him. “I’m the one? That you’re not good enough for?”

“It’s you, Jimin. You’re the one I want to be with.” Damn it, my voice is already cracking. But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. All the things I’ve bottled up inside have become hot and angry from the constantly added pressure of being kept secret for so long. At this point, I might hate myself more than I love him. I hate myself because I still love him. “Isn’t it laughable? Even though you already made it clear that I’m not good enough for you from the beginning, I still can’t move on.”

Horrified by the words rushing like waterfall from my mouth, I try to escape, but Jimin catches my arm as I stride past him. I would have stumbled if his grip wasn’t so strong. In contrast to his strength, the street lamp is enough for me to see that all colour has drained from his face. “I would have never said such a thing. When did I say that?” His challenging words come out in an intense whisper, like he can’t believe he ever did such a thing and yet unsure if he hadn’t.

“I don’t know. High school, maybe?” It’s too late but I still play it off as if it isn’t a big deal. Like I don’t remember every detail of that excruciating incident vividly. “I’m not girlfriend material, and you made sure Ji Woo and Ha Rim know that too. And.. someone-or-other girl. Whoever it was you were dating back then. Can’t remember her name.”

I didn’t think it was possible for Jimin to grow paler, but he does, and his hold on me loosens as well. Not wanting to hear an insincere apology years too late, or worse, an encore of how I’m not girlfriend material, I yank myself out of his grasp and practically run into the safety of the building.

Once I’m ensconced in the relative safety of our room, I sit on the edge of the bed and take three deep breaths before panicking. What have I done?! It doesn’t look like Jimin pursued me inside, but he’s going to come in sooner or later. What will I say to him then? How will I ever face him again?

Sighing, I let my body slump dejectedly. I shouldn’t have said anything. Ever. I’ve always known that, but all the pent-up emotions have accumulated for far too long, and under constant continuous stress on this trip, they finally spilled over. And I had to choose the worst time and place to do it — in a foreign country where I have no place to run to. Just as I’m berating myself for that particular bit of foolishness, I hear the outside door to our room open and close. Belatedly realising that I should have searched for a place to hide before agonising over my recent mistakes, I get into a frenzy, whipping my head around every which way, desperately looking for a hole to crawl into.

That’s how Jimin finds me with my arms stretched wide, holding the doors to the wardrobe open, and one of my legs inside the furniture. “Uh.” Not the first time a dumb monosyllable is all I can think of today, but still, way to go.

“What are you doing?” Seeing my crazy antics, Jimin’s tortured expression rearranges into a befuddled one.

“Uhm, nothing.” Climbing out of the furniture, I pretend that I walk out of closets every day of my life. It doesn’t help ease the awkwardness after I close the doors and lean on them, though. I don’t trust myself to not say any more stupid things, and it looks like Jimin doesn’t know what to say either. But he does have something to say, if the way he opens his mouth, pauses, then closes it again is any indication. Seeing this, I keep quiet, waiting for him to figure out where to start. I’m not sure if I’m going to like anything he has to say, but short of jumping out of the balcony, I don’t see any way to escape from him. I cast a longing gaze at the door leading to it, wondering if it’s at all possible.

After what feels like an eternity, Jimin hesitantly hedges, “Uhm, can we… talk?”

I nod, still not trusting my verbal communication skills.

Jimin walks further into the room to take a seat at the edge of the bed, less than two meters from the wardrobe, and I have to fight the urge to distance myself from him. He inhales deeply, loud enough for me to hear, and finally starts. “Look, I’m really sorry about what I said back then. I didn’t even remember that it happened.”

“Of course you didn’t. It didn’t happen to you,” I bite out. Even though I can see that he’s beating himself up over it, I can’t help but drive the nail a little deeper. It has been a wound that has always festered under the surface, never healing.

“You’re right.” Jimin’s ready admission makes me feel slightly bad for being mean over it. “I have no excuse. It was a horrible thing to say. And it wasn’t true at all.”

“It wasn’t?” Damn it, I’m not supposed to be happy about it! Getting my hopes up over just a few vague words is only going to screw me over again, but I can’t stop myself from being elated. Did I mishear him? Did I misunderstand him somehow? So many lessons and I clearly haven’t learnt anything at all.

With a shake of his head, he explains; “Back then I was a dumb kid with raging hormones, and all I could think about was fucking everything that moved. Heh.” He lowers his head and scratches the back of it sheepishly, aware of how immature and shallow he was. Involuntarily, I soften at his words and actions, with his hair getting messy from his vigorous haphazard brushing. “You’ve never been someone that I want to simply fool around with. I might not have been smart enough to realise how special you are back then, but I knew that much. I must have said that to get that girl to go out with me. You, not being good enough for me – that’s ridiculous. If anything, I’m not good enough for you.”

“Oh.” Despite wishing for something like this, now that it has become reality, I can hardly believe it. “So me not being girlfriend material–“

“Was not true at all.” Jimin leans forward to take my right hand, securing it in both of his. He turns up his eyes at me, silently pleading for me to understand. To forgive him. And my defences against Jimin have always been paper-thin. “Is still not true. God.” He hangs his head again in defeat, slightly pulling me towards him as he sags against the bed. “It can’t be more opposite than that. You’re the one I’ve been in love with for the longest time.”

“What?” I try to breathe, but the air is lost somewhere in my lungs.

Instead of answering, Jimin stands up. The sudden movement startles me, especially as it puts him just inches away from me. The warmth is not just from our connected hands now, but I can feel it radiating from his whole body in the coolness of the air-conditioned room. His words coupled with his nearness make me even hotter – probably even more than the scorching outdoors in Penang during the day. When he reaches up to softly caress the side of my face, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I can’t be sure that I haven’t self-combusted. “You’ve become more than my best friend for ages. I might have even loved you since we were in school. Hell, I don’t know.” Taking another step forward, he closes the little distance left between us to lean his head against my shoulder. Facing this completely unexpected progress, I stand there stiffly, not knowing what else to do except trying not to lose my head. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but you’ve always had a boyfriend hanging around. Every time I swore I’d tell you once you broke up, but before I could work up the courage to say anything you’ve already found a new one. You never considered me, so I thought you just didn’t think of me that way. I guess I know why now.” Lifting his head, he stares into my eyes earnestly. I can’t look away even if I wanted to. His face is etched with regret, and yet I can see hope buried in his eyes. It mirrors the hope I’ve always felt. I just didn’t know that he felt the same way. “I’m really sorry for being a dick.”

A bubble of horrified laughter bursts out at hearing him describe himself as such. Trust Jimin to mend my bruised heart so easily, and break such a heavy moment by sort-of-playfully bashing himself. He deserves it, but now knowing that I’ve put him through similar anguish, I can’t stay mad at him for long. “It’s okay,” I say with a teary smile.

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. I love you.” He cocks his head, then asks, “You’re single now, right?”

Another string of gleeful laughter fills the room. “I am,” I confirm.

“Would you do me the honour of being my girlfriend, then?”

“I would.”

“Finally,” he sighs in relief, and my next round of giggles is lost somewhere between our lips as Jimin kisses me. If our first kiss was incredible, this one is a hundred times better. With no more doubts plaguing my mind, I can give all of myself into my love for Jimin. Just as he’s giving to me. At first he cups my face in his hands, tilting his head to deepen our kiss. In the hazy air of passion, it’s unclear who started to open up beyond the joining of our lips. I know he traced the line between my lips at some point, but I also sucked on his full bottom lip that has always, always caught my attention. Among his many flattering features, it’s the one that has always struck me as striking. A guy shouldn’t have such seductive, plump lips that no woman can resist.

Soon his hand is pressing me to him from the nape of my neck, like I’m not close enough to him. He needs to bring me closer. Our tongues dance with each other, within our mouths like they’re dark, dangerous ballrooms, before things get more intense, and these caverns morph into wet, sweaty arenas, where we wrestle out our lust. In a match that is a win-win for both players, where the energy only heightens, never ending. The palm covering my cheek moves so his arm can wrap against my waist, crushing me against him. Every part of my body is touching his, sending tremors of excitement from outside in. I huff against his mouth, out of breath, but past caring. I just want Jimin. More of him. All of him. And then some more.

From the looks of things, Jimin doesn’t want to let me go either. A tell-tale bulge is impossible to miss, but when I feel it pressing against me, a modicum of sense nudges against my muggy brain. Regretfully breaking the kiss, I pant out, “We should… take… a shower,” in between fighting my lungs for air.

Jimin’s groan ends in a whine that usually gets him what he wants. “Do we have to?”

“We should. I’m all sweaty.” Being outside most of the day has left me sticky. It’s one of those things that you can’t forget or ignore once you’ve noticed it, and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. What’s going to transpire between Jimin and I is a no-brainer, and I don’t want my first time with him to be when I’m smelling of sweat.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to sweat either way.” Unwilling to stop for something as trivial as cleaning up when we’re bound to get dirty again, Jimin slips his hand under my shirt, attempting to get me to agree with him.

However, I will not be deterred, even if my moan at his palm stroking the side of my body doesn’t sound very convincing. “Please, Jimin. It would make me feel better.”

This time Jimin’s groan is one of defeat. “Fine.” Honestly, I’m surprised that he relented so easily. I never really noticed how much he normally gives up for me. Perhaps I only notice when he’s whining like a child on the occasions where he really doesn’t want to give in, so I thought that he always gets his way. But if I really stop to think about it, he rarely pulls such an act – most of the time he actually listens to what I want, or outright asks me, and goes along with whatever I wish. Heart swelling with renewed affection, I nod without hesitation when he tugs against the hem of my shirt. “May I?”

Baring the tops of my breasts by removing my shirt, he can’t seem to stop himself from ogling them in my bra. Pushing so my back is against the closet, he dips his mouth against the skin available to him as his fingers fiddle with the clasp of my bra. Once the garment is loosened, he all but pulls it off, tossing to the floor, so he can move on to my nipples. “Jimin!” My cry for him is from pleasure, but he mistakes it as a warning.

“Just… for a little bit.” My right nipple pucker under the ministrations of his tongue, growing stiff more quickly than it takes for him to unbutton and unzip my jeans, dragging them onto the floor with my panties. It’s all happening so fast. I haven’t even processed the fact that I’m now completely naked before him, in the dimness of the room filled only by a lone lamp in the corner I’d switched on when I came in. He slips his knee between my legs, spreading them apart. What his words cannot achieve; lowering my defenses, is being threatened by the difference between the texture of his jeans and the smoothness of my bare legs.

And Jimin, that devil, knows this very well. Propping his leg up against the sturdy wooden wardrobe, he brings it into contact with my exposed center. The friction draws a moan from me instantly, and without prompting, I begin to rub against him like a deranged nymphomaniac, seeking traction from the rough material against my pussy. He hasn’t even touched me there, yet I’m already wet enough to lubricate my movements against his muscular thigh. Each stroke stimulates countless sparks that shakes my body like electricity. I know I should stop, but I can’t. Latching on to his upper arms, I lift my head up to look at him imploringly. “Jimin… please.” Right now I’m not even sure what I’m asking from him.

There must be something on my face that makes him look at me with blazing fire in his eyes, before swooping down to brand another soul-searing kiss on my lips. How am I supposed to hold myself back when he’s holding me so closely, when his hard muscles encourage me to move my hips even faster, when he takes my lips like he wants to inhale my very soul into his body? It hasn’t taken much, but I’m already trembling with my impending orgasm. “Fuck,” Jimin spits out, abruptly wrenching himself away from me. My feet land flat against the floor as I howl in protest at having my high yanked away from me.

He doesn’t listen to my objections. Instead he grabs my hand and pulls me in the direction of the bathroom, his free one working furiously to tear his own clothes off. His haste almost makes him trip at the threshold of the bathroom as he attempts to step out of his jeans. My horrified chuckle at this is met with an impatient, don’t-you-dare-laugh glare, which makes it even harder to hold back my mirth.

“Get in,” he growls so ferociously that I stumble backwards, laughter gulped down as my body follows the motion of his chin. Predatory eyes burn holes along my body, suddenly making me self-conscious of my nakedness, but not for long. My own gaze is fixed on him as he moves forward, the clumsiness from a second ago replaced by panther-like steps, only pausing to take off his underwear in a far smoother move than he did his jeans. For the second time, I gulp; on my saliva this time, upon seeing his erection spring out from its confines. While his length looks average, his girth has me excited and apprehensive at the same time. He steps into the glass cubicle, backing me up against the wall, and closes the door separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom behind him. The shower is spacious enough for two people to fit comfortably inside, yet I somehow find myself cornered like a trapped animal. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asks edgily. “You wanted to shower, didn’t you?” He reaches around me to turn it on.

A stream of cold water hitting my skin makes me gasp, forming goose bumps that are soothed away once it warms to the temperature that Jimin has set. As incensed as I am by the unexpected shift in our relationship and Jimin’s enthusiasm, I’m comforted by having the grime and sweat of the day being washed away.

Jimin’s mind isn’t as easily distracted though. Pressing me up against the wall facing the shower head, he envelops my lips in another fervent kiss. I’m more than happy to give in to it, wrapping my arms around his neck, but instead of holding me, he extends his reach towards the soap, pumping a generous amount of viscous liquid into his palm. “Looks like I’m going to have to help you wash if I want to move things along,” he mutters against my lips.

His soapy palms move slowly down, from my neck, branching outwards along my clavicles then dip down to cup my breasts. My breathing grows heavy as he massages them. Moans start forming in the back of my throat when he begins paying attention to my nipples, flicking them almost playfully with his thumbs. He doesn’t remain there long enough for me, one of his hands continuing down my stomach to the apex of my thighs. “Funny, I’d say it’s wetter here than my whole body.” He rubs his fingers against my folds, as if inspecting them. I can’t argue; even though most of the shower water is hitting his back, my pussy is arguably wetter than he is, and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the pipes.

Without warning, Jimin pushes his index finger in, eliciting a startled gasp from me. “So wet,” he crows delightedly at how easily it slips in. “Do you think you can fit another one in here?” He doesn’t wait for my response before cramming another finger in, making me whimper in pleasure. “You like how it feels?” I nod, turning my face away in embarrassment. It doesn’t deter Jimin. He simply whispers in my exposed ear, “You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

Yes. I want it so badly, yet to say the words is mortifying, so I nod again. Jimin tsk-tsks disapprovingly at my refusal to vocalise my answer. “Communication is key to a relationship, you know,” he teases, pushing his fingers in up to his knuckles, but refusing to move them any more. “How am I supposed to know what you want if you won’t tell me?”

This cruelly taunting side of Jimin is new to me. I can’t say that I hate it. Not when it’s turning me on so much. “Please Jimin,” I plead with him. “Fuck me with your fingers.”

Tilting his head to the side, Jimin puts on a show of considering my plea. Then he shakes his head, and I know that he never intended to do it in the first place. “No, I don’t think I will.” Leaning forward, he nibbles at my earlobe, telling me, “I’d rather taste you instead.”

Getting the full brunt of the jet of water from the shower when Jimin suddenly kneels at my feet, I sputter in surprise. Jimin uses my momentary confusion to spread my legs even further apart so he can bury his face between them. “Oh!” My hands fly to grasp at his wet hair, holding on for dear life as he goes all out from the get-go. Easily capturing my clit between his lips, he sucks hard, making my knees buckle and my previously unfulfilled orgasm rush back with a vengeance. “Jimin!!” He’s relentlessly alternating between flicking the tiny bud with the tip of his tongue and trying to suck it right off, and I can’t withstand his attack. Flick, flick, flick. And then suck, as hard as he can. In less than a minute I’ve lost completely, making him bear my weight as I cum violently. If he isn’t holding me up by the waist, I probably would’ve collapsed, maybe even slipped in the wet cubicle. Without missing a beat, he releases my clit to run his tongue along my slit, lapping up every drop of his victorious spoils and prolonging my orgasm.

Standing up, he maintains his hold on me, which I appreciate because I still don’t trust the strength of my legs. “You okay?” I can barely register his question in the hazy aftermath of my orgasm, but I manage to nod. Jimin pumps more soap to wash me with as I recover, then swiftly washes himself. Once he determines that both of us are clean enough, he turns the water off. “Can we go now?” He asks, wrapping his arms around me so he can rub his dick, which has grown slightly soft, against my belly. It’s unfair that he’s pushing his advantage like that. Just doing this is getting me aroused again.

As much as I want to get out as soon as we can, there is unfortunately one thing that we need to do first. “Jimin, we should dry our hair. Otherwise we’ll catch a chill.”

Relenting after letting out only one dissatisfied huff indicates that he agrees with me. It doesn’t mean that he’s happy with it. I smother a smile at his adorable childishness, which is a stark contrast to what he was just doing to me in the shower, and what he wants to skip all these small details to do to me in bed. By the time I’ve wrapped myself in a towel, he’s already by the socket next to the sink, hair dryer in hand. “Hurry, hurry,” he urges, pointing the device on full blast to my face.

“Ooof!” Instinctively squeezing my eyes shut to protect them from the powerful gust of warm air, I blindly swipe in his direction, hoping to smack Jimin for his immature prank and the mischievous guffawing that comes with it. Once Jimin directs the nozzle back towards his own hair and out of my face, I fix him a glare, which he returns with a Cheshire grin. He rakes his fingers through his hair roughly, anxious to be done with it. Sure enough, he finishes in record time. “Come on, let’s do you.” He tries to turn me around, but I refuse the offer, giving his messy job, with soft strands sticking up every which way, a pointed look.

“I’ll do it myself, thanks.”

Wisely deciding that handing me the hair dryer will be quicker than trying to argue with me, he relents. Then he leans against the wall next to the sink. With only a towel around his waist, looking like he has all the time in the world to just watch me do something as mundane as drying my hair. I turn towards the mirror, mentally instructing my eyes not to look at him. However, they’re not keen to follow orders, and flick towards his reflection every few seconds. It’s impossible for me to calm myself down like this. Especially not when I can see the obvious tent in his towel, threatening to part the cloth that’s barely covering him. It must have grown harder from the friction against my stomach just now, as well as the anticipation of what’s to come.

 “You can go ahead and wait outside.”

“Eh?” He starts to protest but stops when he sees my entreating look. “Okay,” he yields in a wounded puppy pitch. “But hurry, okay?”

I nod, only turning towards the mirror again after I see him closing the door to the bathroom. I’m glad that he’s giving me this bit of space to think. Even though I’m ecstatic by this turn of events, there’s so much to process that it’s overwhelming. And I’m hesitant to go all the way with Jimin without sorting it out. To me it’s a monumental thing. A really huge step. My sigh is drowned out by the loud whirring of the hair dryer, but the sound has become white noise.

So the incident that has plagued me for so many years turned out to be a misunderstanding. While it doesn’t excuse Jimin from what he’d said, there was never any truth behind those words. It had always baffled me that Jimin would think, much less say, such a thing. Even if he wasn’t interested in me, it doesn’t seem to be in line with Jimin’s personality to measure a girl’s worth so much as to label her something as horrid as ‘not girlfriend material’. The most is he’d think someone isn’t his type, and just move on. He’s one of the kindest people I know, but he isn’t perfect. I’m aware of that. We were young back then. It makes more sense that Jimin was only thinking about getting a girl in bed with him rather than weighing the consequences or fairness of saying something so hurtful.

Switching the electric device off, I gaze at myself in the mirror one last time, finding resolution. What matters now is the future. Am I ready to go forward?

The first thing I notice when I enter the bedroom is that Jimin has gathered all the pillows on his side of the bed, and is resting against them. Before I can wonder what he’s up to, he notices my presence and sits up, like a puppy waiting for his master to come home. It would have been heart-meltingly cute and endearing if he wasn’t gripping his erection in his right hand. Was he masturbating while waiting for me? The thought of it is more arousing than I’d have thought. Maybe there is something wrong with me. “Come here,” he beckons me over, and I approach him a little warily. He helps me atop the bed, manoeuvring my legs so I sit astride his lap.

This puts me face-to-face with him, but more importantly, he’s holding me so I’m sitting right atop his cock. I can predict a very speedy loss in focus. “Jimin,” I begin to ask, then moan when he grinds his hips against mine. “Jimin, are you sure about this?”

“A hundred and ten percent,” he responds, but his attention isn’t on me. Even in the semi-darkness, I can see his eyes are narrowed in the direction of our lower bodies.

Exasperated, I try again, wanting to make myself clear before anything happens that I may regret later. Damn, I’m cockblocking myself, but I know that I’ll be in a world of hurt if this turns out to be a temporary thing. I may be asking for too much, but I can’t do it. Not with Jimin. “No, not just this. I mean… are you sure about… going into a relationship with me? What if…”

Jimin looks up, his expression turning serious, and places a finger against my lips. “Stop that. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I think I know you pretty well.” He briefly stops, waiting for confirmation, and I nod. No one knows me better than Jimin does. “You always overthink things, and when you’re not doing that, your head is filled with thoughts of food.” Even though his assessment is accurate, it doesn’t stop me from hitting him in the chest indignantly, but he only chortles. “It doesn’t matter what you lack. I still love you after all this time, and I’m confident that I won’t stop, no matter what happens. And about what I said back then…” Adopting a sober mien, he brushes my cheek lovingly, leaning closer to gaze into my eyes intently. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for it. Okay?”

“Okay,” I concede tearfully. There’s no one else who can put me at ease so easily. I wouldn’t say that the years-old scar has magically healed, but his touch soothes away all the pain. Closing the scant centimeters between us, I give him a quick peck. An innocent move, which Jimin changes immediately by drawing me into his arms, pulling me back in for a far more intense kiss. He pulls on my towel, already loosened by my movements, exposing my body to his touch. It’s like there’s fire in his fingertips, setting me aflame wherever he touches – from my hip, to the side of my waist, up to my breasts. Devilishly zoning in on my sensitive spots, sweeping back and forth over the stiffening tips of my chest. All night he has been giving me pleasure, and I want to return the favour.

Ignoring both the loss of the heady sensation from being in contact with his cock and Jimin’s growl of protest, I shift myself down towards the foot of the bed. Taking his half-hard erection in my hand, once again I marvel at its girth. Already I can’t wrap my hand completely around it. The thought of having it inside me is making me shiver in anticipation. Wanting to get a feel of it, I slide my hand up from the base, taking care not to be too rough with my dry hand. It’s enough to get Jimin to moan, the wild yet melodic sound instantly heating up my insides with lust. I want to make him feel good. I move down even further, lowering myself to do just that, but Jimin stops me halfway. “Wait.”

Surprised that he would keep me from sucking him off, I glance up at him, tucking my hair behind my ear so that it doesn’t obstruct my view. “Hmm?”

“Plenty of time for that later,” he exhales restlessly. Grabbing me by my waist, he lifts me up slightly, getting me off of him. Then he wiggles down the space between me and the mattress, comically moving to lie down on his back. It’s hard not to snort all over him.

“What are you doing?” Just how many times is he going to make me laugh while we try to get it on tonight?

“Getting what I want,” he pants, and I’m guessing it’s due to the exertion of his completely unnecessary action rather than being horny. Jimin is such an idiot sometimes. He ignores my eye roll though. “More importantly, are you ready for me?”

Instead of waiting for me to formulate a verbal answer, he reaches down to find the answer for himself. I jolt forward with a moan when Jimin swipes his fingers over my slit, then immediately rams two inside me. I’m sure I dried myself off after getting out of the shower earlier, but somehow I’ve gotten wet enough for his digits to slide into me without much resistance. “So wet already,” Jimin answers for me, even though the mortifying squelching sounds coming from my pussy makes it pretty clear that I’m ready for him. “I want to fuck you. Right now.”

Even though Jimin’s fingers are wrecking the best kind of havoc in me, I want the same thing. More than that, I want to make him feel good too. Before I can put my plan into action though, Jimin slaps the bed angrily. “Shit. I’m clean, but I don’t have a condom.” Scowling, he runs his fingers through his hair angrily, following it with a longer string of curses than I’ve ever heard him utter in my presence. I bite the insides of my cheeks so I can swallow the bubble of laughter back into my throat.

“It’s fine,” I reassure him. “I’m on the pill.” Although I haven’t slept with Se Hoon for ages, I kept taking them. Maybe I’ve continued doing so out of habit. Or maybe I was always unconsciously hoping for something to happen between me and Jimin, as far fetched as it seemed. Well, it’s clearly not as impossible as I’d thought.

“Thank goodness,” Jimin collapses back onto the sheets in relief, amusing me to no end. He doesn’t miss it, and shoots me a look that tells me he’s aware that I’m finding him funny. “I don’t think I can hold back at this point,” he warns me darkly, and I take it as a cue to continue. Bracing my hands on his chest, I sit up shakily. Reading my mind like he always does so expertly, he removes his hand so I can move my hips along the length of his dick. Up and down, up and down, covering him in my juices. I don’t know how he became this hard when I’ve barely done anything for him. But I’ll pleasure both of us now. Lining the tip of his cock with my pussy, I take a deep breath as I feel the bulbous head poking against my entrance. Then I face up to find that Jimin is staring at me with such scorching fire that I can feel my skin blister from the heat. He might just want this more than I do, although I can’t imagine a yearning any stronger than mine.

“Hnng,” I groan as I lower myself down slowly. Belatedly I attempt to figure out the last time I had sex in my head. Even before breaking up, Se Hoon and I hadn’t slept together for a while due to our busy schedules. I didn’t think much of it back then, and had thought that he didn’t mind, either. It turns out that he didn’t mind, but only because he was satisfying his urges with someone else. But I don’t want to think about that now. Not when Jimin’s cock is parting my flesh, its girth pushing my walls aside to make its way in. It’s not even halfway in yet I’m already breathless. The burn feels amazing, even if it’s making me mewl from the pain.

“Does it hurt?” Jimin asks through gritted teeth. “Go slowly.”

Unable to voice an answer, I bob my head in acknowledgement. Taking my time descending on Jimin magnifies the sensation of his cock stretching me out. By the time I’ve sheathed myself over him completely, I feel ready to burst. I’ve never felt so full and I tilt my head back as if to absorb the feeling. But I’m not the only one adjusting to this. Jimin’s grip on either side of my waist is slightly painful, betraying a strength that I wasn’t aware he possesses. “Fuck, so tight,” he grinds out like he can hardly stand the pleasure. “Fuck.”

After giving myself a few seconds to get used to having him inside me, I begin to lift myself up again, then sit back down on him, making both of us groan. I don’t know if I can ever get used to this. Still, I repeat the motion, impaling myself over and over his cock, hips accelerating as I get a sense of the rhythm. Jimin’s unconcealed moans spur me on; knowing how good I’m making me feel drives me to take it higher. But I’m not the only one determined to bring pleasure to my partner.

Even as I bounce on his cock, Jimin manages to reach for my clit, capturing it between his index and middle fingers in a ‘V’. Helped by my rapid movements, he pulls up, exposing my clit to the air. Tongue licking his lips, he looks at it like a delicacy that he’d love to devour. However, unable to do that, he makes do with his thumb. He alternates moving it in circular motions around the nub and grinding against it, all the while pinching it with his other two fingers. My hips stutter from his ministrations, but I don’t want to stop. I can’t, even if I wanted to. Not when he’s stimulating me like this. But I can feel the end approaching me rapidly, faster than I want it to. “Ji—Jimin, wait.”

I should’ve known that he’s not going to do as I say this time. “Give me a good reason to wait,” he challenges.

“I can’t take it.” My body is already shaking from its proximity. I’m about to crest the high, but I want to last longer. “Please, Jimin, or I’m going to come.”

“All the more reason for me not to wait, then.” Jimin takes my reasoning and tosses it out the window. In direct contrast to my request, he teases my clit even more, pushing me forward so I can’t stall it any longer. The knot growing inside me shrinks into itself, compressing impossibly before exploding like fireworks. With a cry of his name, I catch myself from collapsing completely on top of him by bracing my hands on either side of his torso. Jimin releases my clit to grab my waist, pushing me down against him, moaning as he feels my muscles contracting around him. “You’re so sensitive,” he remarks as I start to recover.

There’s nothing I can say to his comment. There’s nothing to say, really. I don’t recall ever being this receptive to someone else’s touch. It has been a while, I think, not wanting to admit that my sensitivity might have been caused by the person touching me, rather than the duration I’ve been deprived of such attention. Burying my face into the crook of Jimin’s shoulder, I inhale his scent; the perfect home to come to after falling down from my high. The realisation that I must be crushing him with my weight comes suddenly. I jolt up to move off of him, but he tightens his hold on my waist, halting me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, I must be heavy, and I–“ Jimin doesn’t give me the time to inform him that I can barely move, returning me back into place right above him and whispering;

“I’m not done yet.”

Digging his fingers in so deep I’m sure he’ll leave me with bruises, he pulls out of me, all the way to the tip. My sigh at the loss becomes a shriek midway when Jimin slams back all the way in without so much as a warning. He doesn’t stop there; in fact, that’s the speed that he’s setting for me. Pounding into me from underneath without mercy, without hesitation, without pause. My relaxed legs quickly grow tense again, as his rapid thrusting stokes a new fire in me. “Jimin, Jimin!” I call out for him in between gasps, every thrust knocking the air out of my lungs and every shred of intelligible thought out of my head, until his name is all that remains. My feet curl inwards, trying to withstand the pleasure but in futility. If he isn’t gripping me so firmly, I would have ended up sprawled over him. However, I have nowhere to run. Forced to take every single one of his hard thrusts. Each one making my lower body wrap tighter and tighter around him.

“Close.” Out of breath, Jimin manages to utter only one word, but he slips a hand between our bodies, closer now that I’ve crumpled over him under his rough pounding, leaving no question as to what he means when he pinches my clit between his fingers again. My body contracts until there’s no space left, and I can’t breathe. Whether my brain is hazy due to the lack of oxygen or because I’m on the verge of cumming, I don’t know. One moment later I climaxing again. Jimin doesn’t need to be told that; my cries of ecstasy and squeezing walls are enough to clue him in. He wraps an arm around my waist and seizes my right shoulder, holding me even more securely in place as his hips accelerates to a speed beyond my imagination. Panting and moaning, I latch onto his shoulders so I can receive his rough thrusts, each one knocking me several inches upwards. Unlike before, Jimin doesn’t give me time to recover, too focused on using my tightening muscles spasming around his cock to reach his own high.

It doesn’t take long, but I’ve regained enough sense of mind to register him sinking his face against my neck as he comes. Each of his grunts accompanying every deliberate, deep thrust, pumping his seed into me is so close to my ear, I can feel the hot air that comes with them. There is an odd feeling of being the one to comfort him as his body quakes. It’s like he trusts me to keep him safe at his most vulnerable, and I immerse myself in the feeling proudly for a while.

By the time Jimin rolls me over to the side, I’m starting to get drowsy. My legs twitch when his limp dick slips out a little, and my eyes flutter open to find that he’s staring at me. “What is it?” Absurdly, I feel a little shy. This is just Jimin after all. On the other hand, I’ve never been with Jimin like this before.

“Nothing. I just can’t believe this isn’t a dream.”

The relatable statement makes me grin. “I know. Me too.”

“It seems like such a waste to just… go to sleep.”

No way. “What do you mean?”

“You know, just…” He shrugs with all the innocence of a toddler, but it doesn’t fool me for one second. Especially when he nuzzles against my neck, then almost immediately switches to kissing and sucking the sensitive flesh. A pressure within makes me moan, feeling myself getting fuller as Jimin grows hard again. “I spent four nights in bed with you and I couldn’t even touch you. Do you know how difficult that was? I was about to go insane.”

The dawn of the following morning is slightly chilly, but that’s what makes it refreshing. Even though I greet the day with a yawn as I rest my forearms against the railing of the balcony, I’m feeling very content and reinvigorated. A light mist shrouding the garden before me gives it a cool, dream-like quality. Each plant has bountiful leaves – it’s always summer in Malaysia, after all – and each one is heavy with morning dew. I wish I could reach and touch the moisture with my fingers.

With time, my brain starts to function more efficiently, and I begin to think about the events of last night. Of course I’m ecstatic about finally being in a romantic relationship with Jimin, the man that I’ve been pining over for so long, but I’d be lying if I say that I don’t have any doubts. I’ve been so focused on getting over him that I never stopped to think what it would mean to have my best friend as my boyfriend. The obvious question is: what if it doesn’t work out between us?

Like Jimin said last night, he has known me for many years now. There aren’t many flaws of mine that he isn’t aware of. I’m quite confident that I know most of the things I need to know about him too. And just like Jimin, none of it has made me fall out of love with him. If anything, his imperfections make me love him even more. I can’t think of any reason that would make us break up, but it’s always a possibility. What would happen to our friendship should the worst come to pass? I hope we can still be friends somehow.

Just the thought of it is depressing enough to make me heave a sigh. There’s no point in speculating about the future. I already know that I can barely endure not being with him. It was torture to watch him with girlfriends when I so desperately, so selfishly wanted to fill that role. Now that my wish has come true, we just have to go forward and do our best. If it doesn’t work out, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I’m not delusional enough to think that everything will be perfect from now on, but I hope for every rainy day we have to suffer through, there will be a sunny one that will balance it out. Smiling to myself, I enjoy this blissful feeling I never knew I’m capable of feeling. With Jimin, I’m sure my life will be full of happy days, like an eternal summer.

“What’s up with you?” A teasing, rhetorical question comes from behind, making me jump in surprise. I turn around to find Jimin leaning against the frame of the glass door, looking cool as a cucumber. But I see the laughter dancing in his eyes. “One second you were sighing, and the next you were grinning like an idiot.”

Feeling blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment at being caught entertaining my thoughts, I spin back to face the garden. “Nothing! How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to want to get a closer look at you.” Jimin approaches and hugs me from behind. He wastes no time sniffing against my neck like a little puppy. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmhmm.” How could I not? After that second round, I was ready to nod off, but he’d recovered by then and had asked me if he could take me up on that earlier offer to give him a blowjob. How could I say no? And he wasn’t content to finish up in my mouth, either – no, he wasn’t as rough as he was the first time, but he still finished inside me. It left me exhausted and I went out like a light afterwards. I’m not sure what made me wake up so early, but I do feel well-rested, though quite sore.

“I’m glad.” I can feel and hear him smiling against my ear rather than see it. Although I’m not sure if he’s glad because I’ve gotten enough rest, or because the stiff shaft I can feel pressing against my back needs some attention. Given that he’s already tracing the crevices of my ear with his tongue, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter.

“I’m beginning to think that you’re a monster.” My complaint doesn’t sound very convincing since it’s followed by a keening moan. He’s quick to slide his hand up my thighs and under my bathrobe, discovering that I’m not wearing anything underneath. His sharp inhale lets me know how aroused he got from that revelation.

“I’m not usually this horny,” he admits, leaning me down to rest my upper body against the railing so my ass juts out. I can hear the shuffling of his slippers as he moves back, but before I can turn around to see what he’s doing, I feel his tongue running all the way from the bottom up to my asshole. My back arches from the unexpected jolt of pleasure, hitting me like a bolt of lightning down my spine. “Maybe we need to make up for… what, a decade’s worth of love-making?” Despite being sore, my pussy clenches at the ridiculous notion. A whole  decade? “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” The loud, wet sounds his tongue makes as he laps against my slit doesn’t leave me any room to argue. I only let out a whine when he reaches around to press against my engorged nub. “You’re swollen,” he says concernedly, contrasting with his unrelenting ministrations. “Are you okay?”

“If you’re worried–mmmnn–“ Against my better judgement, I push myself back against his mouth, craving for more. “Why are you doing this?”

Jimin’s reply is lost somewhere within my folds, but once his tongue pushes past my entrance, I stop caring about his answer. It’s amazing how easily Jimin unearths my most sensitive spots. Not just how putting pressure against my clit stimulates me more than circular motions, but also how a feather-like touch along the side of my body makes me tremble or that lightly nibbling my nipples makes me buck beneath him. However, a night of thorough attention has made all of me super sensitive, and I’m already on the verge of tears while my head is screaming for more. “Jimin, please,” I beg. “I need you now.”

Those words are all the encouragement that Jimin needs. Standing behind me, he lifts the lower part of the bathrobe up so he can press his insistent hard-on against my entrance. “No, wait, Jimin.” Remembering where we are right now, I begin to panic. “Let’s go inside.”

Of course, Jimin has never been one to listen to orders. “No one’s up yet,” he overrides my protest, and cuts off any oncoming ones by slamming his hips against mine, pushing his thick cock all the way inside in one stroke. Tears fall from my eyes and my scream breaks the stillness of the morning at the brutal insertion. “Shh,” he comforts me, raining kisses all over the side of my neck and shoulders as I sob. “Someone will hear us if you don’t keep it down.”

“Damn it, Jimin, you’re the meanest – ah! Ah!” I can’t even finish reprimanding him. How can I, when my body reacts to him so easily, and the fact that anyone passing by can see us, or other hotel guests can hear us turns me on even more? Taking a little mercy on me, Jimin grabs my chin, directing me to look back so he can kiss me, somewhat effectively swallowing my moans. The intense kiss matches the force of his thrusts below; slower than last night but with more strength. He lowers his hand to slip it inside my bathrobe, groping my left breast, using it as an anchor as his cock drives me to oblivion. Everything he does intoxicates me, making me drunk to the point I don’t know up and down, so that I no longer give a damn about anyone seeing him pounding into me in broad daylight. All I can think about is the tingling sparks of friction from every stroke of his cock sliding in and out of me, the tiny pinpricks of pleasure and pain like scorching embers feeding a bonfire growing more and more out of control within me. “Jimin,” I gasp when he releases my lips for air, “coming.”

He kisses me, then pulls at my lower lip. “Come,” he coaxes me with his fingers pinching my nipple, making me mewl, and with the short words his brain can muster in his state. “With me. Now.”

After several hard thrusts, Jimin brings me to my climax and follows me right after. He holds me tightly, supporting me so my shaking legs don’t suddenly give way from under me, although I can tell from his quivering body that he’s having trouble keeping himself up. The sturdy railing provides the support we both need, and we cling to it as we catch our breaths. A few minutes later, we’re still panting, but Jimin slowly sits down on the floor, guiding me to sit across his lap. I’ve hugged Jimin countless times before when we were still just friends, but I think after sex might be the best time for cuddling with him.

His comforting arms almost lulls me to sleep, but the gradually escalating heat of the rising sun brings me back to my senses. Opening my eyes, I ask drowsily, “What time is it?”

Jimin shrugs. “Who knows.”

Resisting the urge to follow his devil-may-care attitude, I climb out of his lap to crawl towards the table where I’d left my handphone. My eyes widen when I see the numbers on display. “Jimin! There’s less than three hours before our flight! We need to go, now!”

We get ready and packed in record time. Soon we’re begging our driver to drive us as quickly as possible to the airport, both of us still huffing and panting, but this time for a completely different reason compared to this morning. The young driver shakes his head in disapproval, but accedes to our wishes, driving at a speed I’m not sure is legal, expertly zipping in and out between cars. We earn a few honks, but I try to detach myself from the chaos, leaning back against the seat to try and calm my racing heartbeat.

“This is all your fault, you pervy animal,” I hiss at Jimin under my breath. “If we can’t board our plane you’re going to pay for both our tickets back home.”

Jimin’s smirk is charming and utterly unrepentant. “Worth it.”

Thank you for reading! As always, comments/asks/likes are very welcome :)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello! I wanted to ask, could you reccommend any fics with really innocent bottom Sherlock being nervous before his first time with John? And John of course being understanding and gentle with him. Thank you!

Hi Nonny!!

Check out my bottomlock recs, they’re 80% this request :) AND I’m using this opportunity to update that list, it’s been a couple years, LOL <3 Here’s some newer fics I’ve read!

BOTTOMLOCK Pt. 2

See Also: 

Bottomlock Pt. 1 (April 2019)

Toplock (Mar 2020)

Erotic Beyond Belief by bloodsoakedleather (E, 748 w., 1 Ch. || Autofellatio, Masturbation, PWP, Anal Fingering, Shameless Smut, Establish Relationship) – John watches as Sherlock demonstrates a particular talent. Part 1 of Johnlock Porny Ficlets

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

An Interpretation of Viewing Habits by akitsuko (E, 6,653 w., 1 Ch. || Porn Watching, Masturbation, Anal, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fantasizing, John in Denial / Internalized Homophobia, Bottomlock, Pining Idiots, Sherlock Has No Boundaries, Cockblocking Sherlock) – John watches porn. It's a perfectly normal thing to do.If every video he watches happens to feature actors with remarkable physical similarities to his flatmate, well, that's no one's business but his own. Or: John is in denial, until his infatuation with Sherlock is impossible to deny anymore.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The shape of the world around us by Salambo06 (E, 15,058 w., 5 Ch. || Lumberjack John / Botanist Sherlock, Different First Meeting, John Has a Beard, Light Case Fic, Flirting, First Kiss / Time, Masturbation, Love at First Sight, Horny Sherlock, John’s Bum, Bottomlock, Tenderness, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Shy Sherlock, Sexual Fantasies) – Looking through the bush, Sherlock felt his heartbeat quicken as a man passed in front of him. Sherlock frowned, trying to get a closer look despite the bush. The man was wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off the man’s arms. Muscular, slightly tanned with golden hairs along his forearms. For some unknown reason, Sherlock found himself imagining them around his waist, holding him tightly. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, Sherlock shook his head. Opening his eyes and looking back to where the man stood only a moment prior, he found himself alone. Great, now his only chance to find his way back to town was gone. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Traitor's Gate by roane (E, 17,714 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mystery, Bets and Wagers, Undercover for a Case, BAMF John, Scientist Sherlock, Teasing, Established Relationship, Military Base, Sexting/Texting, Military/Uniform Kink, Frottage, Dirty Sex, Anal, Bottomlock) – John and Sherlock go undercover at a top secret government lab to find out who is selling research. John is back in uniform and Sherlock is back in a laboratory, but they have to pose as strangers. Sherlock thinks he'll have an easy time of it, but John has his doubts. It's up to them to find out who is responsible for putting a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands, and try to keep their hands off each other at the same time.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, 44,025 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Post-TRF, Case Fic, UST, Homophobia, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Showering Together, Couple for a Case, Sherlock’s Bum, Fantasies, Jealous Sherlock) – Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants in the course of a case.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

[birdy-bat-writes]

Final Conclusions

A/N: So Fish and I came up with this Dad!Constantine concept while talking about this one OC I created and a few OC’s she created. The one I created is named Maya. The premise of her story is that she’s a love interest for Damian and she treats John like a mentor/father figure since he’s teaching her to control her magic. This plot is basically what has sprouted any of the Dad/Uncle/Mentor Constantine content I’ve created. Fish has contributed a lot and I love her so much. The basis for this interaction is that John finds a lot of amusement in the fact that Damian likes Maya and he just hates John so much. Even though it’s based on an OC, I’m going to write it x reader style with the reader having the same powers as my OC. So now that there’s context let’s begin!

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 It’s the opening night of the Gotham Academy’s festival of the arts. The night where young artists and musicians show off their talent in the galleries and performances, and two people who never show up to these things- like ever- both happened to be here at the same time for the same reason. You. And it irked them to no end.

Both John and Damian arrived at 6:30 pm on the dot. Damian looked so irritated to see John there. Why is he even there? He doesn’t even like going to these things. But then again, neither did Damian. He decided to put his irritation aside and began to walk into the building with John. He had to admit, John stepped up for the occasion.

John cleaned up, did his hair, shaved and actually wore a jacket that was not his usual beige trench coat, all to attend some crummy high school art show. But he did it anyway because it was your work that was being displayed. The disdain he felt towards these events was replaced with a sense of pride he had in you. He sported a grey blazer and black shirt with matching slacks, that contrasted Damian’s black suit.

“Nice to see you here, Damian.”

“Likewise.” The conversation stayed stagnant for a while as they looked around at the different works displayed. Neither of them walked around much. The silence was broken when you walked up to them, looking elegant as ever in your green dress.

“Hey, guys! I’m so happy you both could come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Damian said sweetly. And that was a rare sight for John to see. Damian being sweet?!

“Do you want to see my display?” They both excitedly nodded “yes” and followed you to a wall at the end of the hall. You cautiously cut through the crowd and pointed. “Tada!”

“That looks amazing, Y/N. You’re more talented than you know.”

“Not bad, kiddo. It’s the best thing I’ve seen from you since that chicken you managed to turn green.”, John said ruffling your hair. Thank goodness you left it down. If it was done up, it would have taken ages to fix, but since you knew john was coming, you took the precaution. He had a habit of doing that when he was proud of you, and it made your day every time.

“Thank you. I’m just going to check out the ceramic displays, you guys want to come?”

“No thanks, dear.”

“I’ll just wait here.”

“Okay, see you in a bit. I’m so happy you both are here.” You chimed. You had that little gleam in your eye that you always did when you were happy, and Damian didn’t fail to notice. He lingered on it. Just as he did with your smile, and the soft glow on your cheeks. He was regrettably brought out of his love-trance by the sound of John’s voice.

“Does that look like ketchup on paper to you too? Or is it just me?” Damian wanted to roll his eyes and say something snarky, but instead, looked up at the painting john was talking about. It really did just look like a glob of red paint.

“I can’t even tell what that’s supposed to be. If it’s abstract, they did a good job.”

“To be honest, I don’t really get this ‘art’ thing. Half of these canvases look like something a two-year-old could muster.” John said, and Damian sighed in return.

“You have to look beyond the surface. Art is about the emotion behind the paint and pencil.”

“Alright, Picasso, what’s that one about then?” Damian stayed silent. “I thought you were an artist; you don’t get art?”

“I sketch sometimes but that doesn’t make me an artist.”

“Ah, damaged closet-artist.” Damian groaned lowly.

“There isn’t anything in that piece to understand. It’s just paint splatters. Half of these can only be admired for their technical skill; there’s no emotion behind them. If there is one, it’s not one that I understand.

“Whose work do you like then?” Damian gave that one some thought,

“I like the classics, I suppose. The only current artist whose work I’ve liked is Y/N.”

“Interesting, so, what emotion do you get from her work?” John had his trademark devilish grin plastered upon his face. He knew Damian was head over heels for you, and it sure was fun to get a rise out of him with that. Damian was trying not to let his mind wander off to the charcoal sketches he has framed in his room. You drew them for him and left them in his room one day. They were all sketches of Titus, Batcow, Alfred the cat and his personal favorite, a charcoal rendition of a polaroid you took. It was the two of you at the beach with the family, and Damian was smiling. It was rare and reserved just for you, so he couldn’t help but think the emotion he got from it was love. That photo stayed between the two of you, and the drawing wasn’t shown to anyone but him. John doesn’t get the luxury of knowing that. Why did he even ask? Why is he even here?

“Why did you come here?” Damian asked.

“Y/N invited me.”

“You don’t like going to these events. Why’d you say yes?”

“Same reason as you mate, I care about her more than I hate the rest of society.”

Damian gave a light nod that anyone would have missed if they weren’t’ looking for it. “What about you? It’s not like you enjoy school activities and such.” Damian looked a little flustered.

“I wanted to support my friend and classmate. It’s important to her.”

“Right, you wanted to support your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Aye, but you want her to be.” John said with a smirk.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t give me that. Its plain as day that you like her.” Damian scoffed and looked down for a while.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” He tried to play it off like sarcasm, but that didn’t really go as planned.

“You hate people and yet you love being around her. You’re an artist and can’t understand anyone’s art but hers. You want to protect her from anyone who you think isn’t good enough for her, myself included. The signs are pretty obvious.” Damian looked a little flushed but remained speechless. “And besides, she’s pretty easy to fall in love with, I hear. My home phone gets calls from boys on the daily.”

“What?! From who?!?”

“Hehe, and that’s how I came to that conclusion.”

“Constan-!”

“There you guys are! I’ve been looking for you. Art awards are going to be announced soon. Want to go find a seat?” You had just found the boys and were ready to take them into the auditorium for the Art Awards.

“Sure thing.”, John said cheerily.

John smiled and Damian just returned a cold glare.

***

They were seated next to each other and chose not to complain about it. Instead, opting to tense over the fact that they were nearing the end of the awards ceremony and your name hadn’t yet been called. This meant one of two things: Either you were about to win one of the top cash prizes or you weren’t going to win anything. And the thought of the latter had both John and Damian gripping the arm rests of their seats tight enough to dent them. The anticipation was building in all of you, but it flooded away from you when you turned and looked at the boys. They looked more stressed than you did, and it made you want to laugh. Of course, you stifled it. This is what you liked to call “Chaotic caring energy”. And truth be told, these two were awfully similar for a pair of people who can’t stand each other.

It was down to second place. You had lost hope and accepted you wouldn’t win anything. The boys hadn’t, though. They were literally at the edge of their seats, and you swear you saw Damian grab John’s shoulder at one point. Just then, you heard your name called. First place, Y/N L/N, 8th grade.

“Yes! I’m so proud of you!”

“Well done, N/N! I knew you’d be up there!” They could be heard over the Loud cheering from the rest of the audience. You walked up and received your award and you waved at them from the stage. John looked at you with a genuine smile and adoration in his eyes. He knew you were talented, and he was so proud of you for working so hard for this. You had finally gotten the recognition you deserved and the look in his eyes reflected how happy he was about it. Damian noticed too. John really cared about you. Damian saw it now. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad mentor for you after all.

While leaving the hall, the three of you saw Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim and Alfred waiting by the doors. They congratulated you and showered you with hugs. They had seen the ceremony as well, but they watched it from the auditorium balcony. While you were off showing your plaque to everyone, Damian took an opportunity to say something he felt he needed to say.

“Hey, John?”

“Hm?’

“When you said I want to protect Y/N from people who aren’t good enough… I don’t consider you to be someone I should protect her from. You’re a good mentor.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” They shared a look of agreement. Perhaps they had finally settled a truce. “And of course, I’m a good mentor for her. I’m the master of my craft.” John added smugly.

“I saw you light your tie on fire once.”

“Who said that was an accident?” They shared a chuckle. Meanwhile, Bruce and Alfred were making celebratory dinner plans, and you were standing flabbergasted with the boys because Damian and John were smiling at each other??? They walked up to you and overhearing Bruce’s discussion about dinner, Damian took the liberty of inviting John to join you.

You choked on your saliva, Tim looked beyond concerned and when John said he’d be delighted, everyone freaked. Bruce looked terrified, Dick squinted, and Jason was about to take a picture while Alfred just stared.

“Are they smiling at each other?”

“No, that’s not possible.”

“Um, they’re walking side by side and talking without grimacing.”

Y/N looks like she’s about to pass out. Someone catch her.”