#it's one of the reasons i make playlists for most of my stories

[not-poignant]

Omg please drop some of your fave 00s Midwestern emo

Absolutely!

So first thing I should say is that I love a lot of emo, not just 00s Midwest. And most of the musicians I loved then, I still follow to some capacity now (it's also how I found musicians like Manchester Orchestra long before they went viral.

For specifically Midwest era, it'd have to be:

The Get Up Kids (I would die for Matt Pryor, his prolificness and songwriting is incredible. He's also The New Amsterdams, and writes as Matt Pryor, he also did children's albums as The Terrible Twos and now has a punk band I always forget the name of). For people new to TGUK, would highly recommend Red Letter Day, and I'll Catch You

There's also Jets To Brazil, mewithoutYou, Sunny Day Real Estate, Spanish Love Songs (folks who listen to my playlists might recognise the song Brave Faces Everyone, which I'm also using as an upcoming chapter title). I've seen The Shins listed as Midwest emo and I enjoy them but I don't think they fit the genre, lol. There's also Mineral, Rainer Maria, Modest Mouse etc.

In terms of more broadly, the emo artists I've love/d are like Brand New (controversial these days, I know), Taking Back Sunday, Acceptance, The Academy Is..., Panic! at the Disco (they've strayed from their roots but I still like em), Say Anything, Matchbook Romance, Dashboard Confessional, The Early November, All Time Low (do an amazing cover of Umbrella), Fall Out Boy, The Format (not really emo but they were in this crowd), Jimmy Eat World, JamisonParker, Death Cab for Cutie, Alexisonfire! (Screamo), Anberlin, Hellogoodbye, and probably a bunch of others I'm missing!

I've been to see Dashboard Confessional and Brand New live (the latter was the first band I ever flew to another state to see, because they weren't going to come to Perth), and I've intended to see Taking Back Sunday twice but both times was too sick to go.

I live with a music journalist, and we're both very interested in all kinds of music, usually with different projects going on at the same time. Currently he's trying to get through all the top albums by year since albums existed (he's now in the early 90s), curating a playlist of '100 top songs per year' series of playlists. I'm doing my Colourways project this year, which is creating playlists of 30 unique songs each that match some of the top selected colours of the year. (I'm currently listening to Kenepuru Sound in that collection).

Last year were both actively tried to listen outside of our music spaces, so Glen targeted a lot of foreign countries, and I specifically lasered in on Indonesia, because that suited some worldbuilding I was doing. Consequently made a giant Indonesian-songs playlist, and fell in love with Padi. Everyone should. (Go listen to Semua Tak Sama, especially if you love Radiohead). I also focused on listening to a lot of Indigenous Australian music, which led me to Alf the Great, who made the song Running that I added to a few playlists. He's Kalkadungu/Bidjara.

The year before that I was followed on playlist curation, etc. We're both a bit neurodivergent about our music habits, except that Glen can't listen to the same song over and over again, and I can to his dismay, so I have to be careful how I do it (and normally not when he's home).

[todayisafridaynight]

‘Casting’ mine as hijikata really was perf cause similar to the actual hijikata i for sure thought he’d turn out to be a crazy dickwad but no he’s just genuinely pretty chill. Ignore the murders he’s MOSTLY pretty chill

[innocent-artery]

Trial and Error

1.6k words

Summary: Your new boyfriend Eddie finds out that you've been faking orgasms. He makes it his mission to make sure you don't have to.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

For the sake of avoiding spoilers, extensive warnings will not be given. This story includes sexually explicit material, reader discretion advised.

While reading, I recommend listening to the altar is my hips, a spotify playlist by me!

~

One hour.

It had been the most blissful hour of your life, but it increasingly became more frustrating as it went on.

Eddie hovered over you, pile driving his cock into you with force that had prompted him to place an extra pillow behind your head when it had knocked against the headboard a while earlier. One of his arms propped him up onto his elbow, the other toying with one of your nipples. His pubic bone was brushing your clit with each push of his hips, and his mouth was latched onto your other nipple dutifully.

So why couldn't you orgasm?

In theory, Eddie was doing everything right. It wasn't like you were uncomfortable with him, and you did feel good, it just wasn't building like it was supposed to, you couldn't get that push to tip over the edge. You'd managed to get yourself there on your own, but Eddie, skillful as he was, wasn't you. He couldn't feel exactly what you felt, he relied on reaction. You'd tried giving him directions, from which he learned well, but when they fell just short of getting you to orgasm, you stopped trying to adjust, not wanting to feel nit-picky or difficult.

And so eventually you'd fallen into a habit of pretending to orgasm. It was easy at first, when you were still testing the waters. When he'd fingered you and you couldn't orgasm, you faked it, brushing it off thinking that you just needed his mouth. A few weeks later, when he added his mouth, you brushed it off again, resigning to believe that only his dick would do the job.

And here you were, with his dick inside you for the first time, and you were back where you'd found yourself all those times before. Still hitting that brick wall you couldn’t get over.

You knew deep down that you should just tell Eddie. He'd made it abundantly clear that he wanted to make you feel good. But after time you'd simply given up on it. You still felt good, you thought, and that was good enough.

The thought seemed overwhelmingly clear now, and for some reason that escaped you, it pricked at your waterline.

Glancing over at the clock, you entertained the act again. You took a fistful of his hair, arched your back with a loud, gasping "Fuck, Eddie" and deliberately clenched your pussy around him. You felt his hips stutter, then still as he pulled out. You watched as he fisted his cock a few times, spilling his cum over your stomach. The muscles tensed with the foreign sensation.

You opened your eyes, watching Eddie hovering over you, panting, and you felt your pussy throb. That was only more frustrating.

A moment of silence fell over the two of you, the hot smell of sex thick in the air. You assume Eddie believes you came, until you note the slightly perplexed expression on his face, staring at your collarbone as he was lost in thought, rolling something around in his head. He seems to have concluded the thought with a sigh out his nose, leaning up to kiss you sweetly.

"Feeling good?" He muttered, grinning into your mouth.

"Mhm," you sighed between kisses. "Hardest I've ever come." This was, in fact, total bullshit.

At that, Eddie stopped, pulled away to see your face. "Really?"

You nodded. He shrugged. "That's strange, because I didn't feel it at all."

You froze.

He popped his lips, giving you a sympathetic smile. "I wasn't sure at first, thinking you just didn't have much of a physical reaction when you came. Was still unsure just asking now, but your reaction gives it away."

The wind seemed to be knocked out of you, opting to watch your hand play with his hair than look him in the eye.

"I'm not mad, sweetness, I just don't understand. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know." Your voice was small. "I think...I think I just didn't want to be a bother. I tried telling you stuff to make it better but it still wasn't working- not that you're doing anything wrong!" you added quickly when he blinked at you. "So I just stopped."

"Honey, you know I'm glad to go to whatever lengths are needed to make you orgasm, and if you don't I'm not doing my job." He was earnest in his words, and it made your heart both swell with love and sink with guilt.

"I know. I just feel bad when you've been eating me out for half an hour and I'm no closer to an orgasm than I was twenty minutes ago."

Eddie sighed, pecking your cheek and sitting up on his calves. "I'm not sure you're hearing me, bubs. I genuinely do not care, in the nicest way possible. You need hours? I've got all the time in the world. You need a specific technique? Show me what to do. I don't care if getting you to orgasm takes a little more work, I'd rather take the time to learn than have you pretend for my sake."

Tears pricked at your eyes again, but this time with love. You sat up and pulled his face towards yours, kissing him with as much adoration and gratitude as you could muster.

"Sweetness?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you been able to make yourself cum?"

You mumbled an 'mhm', in between kisses.

"I have an idea." He pulled away, eyes now sparked with determination. "I want you to get in whatever position you normally do when you touch yourself."

When he pulled back, you were still for a moment. It took his raising of an eyebrow and gentle gesture to snap you out of it, shifting your weight and the pillows until you lay comfortably on your back.

"Good." Eddie adjusted himself so that he was propped up on his elbows, face level with your pussy. "Now, show me how it's done."

Your jaw nearly fell open. "Eddie..."

Eddie tilted his head, searching for signs of hesitancy on your face. After a moment of stunned silence you began to move, both hands reaching for your tits. Groping, massaging, pinching, caressing. Slowly, so slowly, pulling soft hitches of breath followed by sighs each time. You felt your eyelids flutter closed, partly from the sensation you were losing yourself in, partly from slight embarrassment.

Your left hand traveled up to your neck, soft caresses over your jaw and pulse point before finding the pressure points that had your brain turning fuzzy and a low, breathy noise rumbling in your throat. The right hand found the flesh of your thigh, groping it softly before alternating with your ass.

Eddie chuckled softly. "Didn't know you grabbed your own ass, pretty."

You felt your cheeks warm. "I usually just imagine you doing whatever I'm doing, so..."

"Do you?" Even with your eyes closed you could see the ego-inflated grin pulling his lips back. "Good, that's good. Show me what you picture me doing."

You continued like that for a moment, just feeling around your body. Your middle finger traced the junction between your thigh and your cunt, making your body tense with excitement.

When your eyes had had the courage to open again, they met a lovely sight. Eddie was crouched dutifully down in front of you, hungry and lust-blown eyes noting every slight movement of your hand, gaze flicking from one had to the other, to your face, to your pussy on display in front of him.

Nearly shaking in anticipation, you reached down gingerly to graze a fingertip against the spot right above your clit, which had your hips following your hand when it left.

A soft breath was pulled from you at the action, but it turned into a choked gasp when your finger finally pressed down towards where slick had gathered. You opted to sift it around, collecting it on your fingertips before sliding them up to your clit, a firm, slow swipe making you let out a weak sound.

Once you found a rhythm, you opened your eyes. Eddie was staring intently at your motions, trying to burn every little motion into his brain, wanting to memorize the exact shape you drew into your body. His eyes flicked up to your face every so often, but when they caught on that you were staring, they lingered. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to the insides of your thighs, hands caressing the backs of your thighs, a motion intended to be soothing but instead sent shivers into your skin in its wake.

"Eddie..." you sighed, motions increasing in intensity. Through your growing desperation you managed to stay slow, keeping yourself on edge.

The boy in question groaned into your skin. The idea that he'd asked you to show him exactly what you did when you were alone and that this was what you thought to do. Say his name. That was what came naturally, that was what fueled your desire. Him.

It didn't go unnoticed that your soft moans were getting louder, airier, higher pitched. Eddie reached his hands under you to grip your ass, caressing and squeezing the flesh.

"Good, good." Eddie murmured.

"Fuck, say that again," you gasped.

"What? That you're doing so good? So good for me, yeah? Look fuckin' perfect, 'n I can smell you from here. Christ baby, sound like a damn song, sound so pretty."

Your fervent motions plus Eddie's soft touches and sex-incarnate voice all tipped you over that sticky sweet edge. This orgasm didn't barrel into you, rather, it washed over you, warmth coursing over you from your core outwards. It felt like euphoria.

When you came down and opened your eyes, Eddie was staring at you with a stupid but awestruck look.

"Well, there's no going back, 'cause I can definitely tell the difference now."

~

[vivelegalite]

dear dead boy detective (especially paynland) enjoyers: have you yet heard of the biggest gift bestowed upon the fandom so far, aka jayden's charles playlist? the one he mentioned in interviews? well, he dropped it on twitter at 19th of may. and man, do i have stuff to say about it.

there's a lot of 80's bangers, for sure, great to get into the mood and character, but some of the choices...

i'm gonna focus on a few of my favourites, songs that made me go insane when i saw them. honorable mentions: - category 1 (so devoted the lines blur): ain't no mountain high enough by marvin gaye and tammi terrell, there is a light that never goes out by the smiths, inkpot gods by the amazing devil - category 2 (family life): family line and summer child by conan gray, seventeen going under by sam fender, matilda by harry styles, father by the front bottoms - category 3 (being queer in the 80s): smalltown boy by bronski beat, boys don't cry by the cure - category 4 (there's no heterosexual explanation for this one): good luck, babe! by chappel roan, yellow by coldplay, fight or flight by conan gray (is this about monty? the cat king? i need answers!), the prophecy by taylor swift, arms tonite by mother mother, sweet by cigarettes after sex, head over heels by tears for fears

this list is by no means complete or comprehensive!

and now, the songs that made me go the craziest: (they're predominantly in charles' pov as it's his playlist)

found heaven by conan gray

the only reason this song made it into the list and not the honorable mentions instead of smalltown boy is that it makes almost the same point, just so much more explicitly. i don't think i have to say much about it, it's a story of a young person griping with their queerness, being forced to leave home, a common theme of the playlist. "you're in love, you found heaven" when he chose edwin over his own afterlife, heavily implied to be heaven, and built his heaven with him on the mortal plane? ouch! (and we see this same notion repeated in another bop from the playlist, heaven is a place on earth by belinda carlisle).

2. like real people do by hozier

"i miss kissing" charles rowland, 202X romantic meaning aside, the verses show a sort of a common understanding the boys have around the manner of their deaths and their lives before it. we already know from the show they don't really talk about it, with edwin not knowing about the severity of the abuse charles suffered. it feels like one of them saying "let the past be past, we're together now, yeah?". but also, jayden: can there ever be a platonic explanation for this? ghosts can't touch, can't feel, so they wish they could just kiss like "real" (alive?) people do?

3. flaws by bastille

not the most romantic song, but i absolutely love how well it fits their dynamic. despite his edwardian brand of repression, edwin truly is the one that's more open about his feelings (recognising of course that in this case, the bar is so low it's in hell. haha, get it). edwin has worn his flaws upon his sleeve, and charles has held them buried - eg. bottling up all of his anger and resentment towards his family and his own death. the song presents a very sweet outlook, in which their flaws are brought up to the surface (for example, charles' outburst against the night nurse in episode 4), but they learn to accept them as they are, an extension of themselves.

4. a pearl by mitski

you know it's gonna get intense if there's a mitski song in the mix.

the song is about a person who finds love in their partner, someone who treats them way better than they've ever been treated - and yet they cannot bring themselves to reciprocate the affection ("it's not that i don't want you, sorry i can't take your touch") despite reciprocating the feelings themselves because of the trauma. charles is known to bottle things up ("you're growing tired of me and all the things i don't talk about"). the person in the song recognises the love the other person holds for them ("you love me so hard and i still can't sleep"), which reminds me of charles' response to edwin's confession. not a "no", but a "maybe, as time passes".

5. fair by the amazing devil

this one made me genuinely gasp when i first delved into the lyrics. it's simply so sweet, such a genuine and domestic portrayal of love. at first i thought it was way too open about being a love song (normal text instead of the subtext i'd be used to) for jayden to choose it with edwin in mind, but... there's no one else it can really be about. it's far too domestic, too "established" to refer to crystal. refers to a relationship that's laster for a longer while.

the narrator in the first verse is a person deeply in love with the other person, someone who loves to make his lover laugh and simply drinks in their presence. the "he" in the song i believe is charles, while the "she" refers to edwin. edwin promises to fight off anyone - or any feelings pulling charles down (we can see this in the first episode: "you ever think... what if death did catch us? she'd force us to go to the afterlife and split up" "i will make sure this never happens."). charles feels left behind by the world (seeing as he clings to crystal at first, refering to her as "someone their age who's still alive") and believes edwin to be so much stronger than he's ever been. i'm not going to break down the song verse by verse, but if you read it yourself while subbing out "he" for charles and "she" for edwin you'll see just how sweet (and... strangely very in character?) the song is.

6. work song by hozier

if the previous song made me gasp when i saw the lyrics, this one made me go "NO WAY" out loud when i saw the title. the first one verse is just pure toothrotting sweetness, but the chorus is what i want to draw attention to:

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold, dark earth no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her

HELLO? charles, who keeps escaping death and afterlife to be able to stay with edwin? charles, as he literally takes his last breath with edwin right there, choosing to be by his side rather than move on? charles, who keeps choosing him despite night nurse's promises and threats? charles, who literally crawled through hell for him?

verse 2, to me, can be interpreted as referring to when charles died. edwin found him at his worst, and he "woke" up with his presence comforting him. he was shivering due to hypothermia and his injuries. edwin didn't ask him about what happened or pushed him, he simply listened. the lines "i didn't care much how long i lived, but I swear, i thought i dreamed her" are pretty self explanatory.

in verse 3 we still see the same attitude of "damn the afterlife, at least we have each other" as charles portrays througout the series. they're free, and heaven and hell are simply words to him.

7. orpheus by vincent lima

i literally have no words for this one. it fits too well. if you want commentary for this one, just... i don't know, rewatch the staircase scene.

8. francesca by hozier

(cracks knuckles) this is the big one. the album francesca is from, unreal unearth, is based on dante alighieri's divine comedy, a fourteenth century poem about a man venturing into hell, purgatory and eventually heaven. the eponymous francesca is one francesca di rimini, a woman who was politically married off to a man older than her, called giovanni malatesta. francesca didn't love him, and eventually fell deep in love with giovanni's younger brother, paolo. the two carried on with the affair for years, before being murdered by giovanni upon his finding out. francesca and paolo are mentioned in canto v of the first book, inferno, as two souls damned in the second circle of hell, lust. their punishment is to be permanently locked in a hurricane, swept away by the winds the moment they manage to get close enough to touch one another.

as opposed to their portrayal in the poem, the song is from the perspective of paolo, explaining that no matter the punishment, he wouldn't change anything about his life because he got to know, and love, francesca.

the first verse brings to mind the scenes in hell, especially on the staircase ("do you think I'd give up? that this might've shook the love from me? or that I was on the brink? how could you think, darlin', i'd scare so easily?" as an echo of charles' "sorry. no version of this where i didn't come get you"). "my life was a storm since i was born, how could i fear any hurricane?" could relate to charles' tumultuous family life, an assurance that nothing he has to deal with while by edwin's side will faze him given the things he's lived through. no, despite everything he's suffered through, charles wouldn't do anything differently - because his (admittedly shitty) life led him to edwin ("i'd tell them, put me back in"). we already know charles would choose him over heaven, willingly sacrificing his own afterlife to stay with a boy he's known for hours, someone kind enough to keep him company as he drew his final breath. all of it - his father's abuse, his schoolmates' bigotry, the pain of his own death, as well as everything he's gone through since - he'd do it all again, for edwin.

"for all that was said of where we'd end up at the end of it" could be taken as an allusion to the fate the boys would meet at "at the end of it", when they're finally caught by death and separated, or as more of a general "if you sin, you will go to hell when you die" (up to you to decide what the sin itself would be - an interpretation that would work with other songs on the playlist is that one such sin would be same sex attraction). then their hearts ceased, they never knew "peace", nor did they want to find it in death. their deaths were too soon, them being ripped away from life, but even though it would break his heart: charles would ask to do it all again.

the outro, i think, beautifully pulls it all together: heaven is not fit to house a love like theirs.

to wrap it all up:

jayden, what were you cooking in there? what do you know??

[starsthewitch]

Star’s beginners guide to Aphrodite worship 🐚💕

Who is Aphrodite?

Aphrodite is the goddess of love, sex, beauty, seduction, and war. She is most commonly known for her immense beauty and her many associations with sex.

What are some things she is associated with?

Doves

Flowers like roses

The colors pink, red, blue, green, white, and gold

Crystals like rose quartz, clear quartz, pearls, diamonds, sapphires, amethyst, rubies, moonstones, and aquamarines

Incense that smells of rose, cinnamon, myrrh, frankincense, vanilla, and jasmine

Her tarot cards, The Lovers, The Empress, and The Star

What can I give to her as offerings?

Shells or shell imagery

Ocean imagery

Swan and dove imagery

Heart imagery

Valentine's day gifts like chocolates

Imagery/paintings that depict her

Roses or rose imagery

Doing skincare for her

Perfumes or colognes

Hairbrushes

Mirrors

Doing your makeup

Moonwater

Strawberries, apples,and raspberries

Devotional acts or things you can do in her honor

Giving compliments to people

Collecting things you find pretty

Wearing jewelry you've offered or devoted to her

Watch or read romantic material

Self-love

Masturbation (if comfortable in doing so)

Sex (if comfortable in doing so)

Wear perfume dedicated to her

Spend time with loved ones

Create a digital altar (these can be done on Pinterest)

Write poetry about her

Write a letter to her

Create or listen to a playlist dedicated to her

Talk to her (tarot cards, dice, pendulum, and other forms of divination work just fine)

What is it like working with her?

When it comes to Aphrodite, in myth, she was often known as a wrathful and jealous goddess. However, since the myths are just stories and are known to exaggerate some details, this isn’t usually the case.

However, when people mention to others that they are interested in working with Aphrodite, they usually say that you absolutely should not. That she is needy, requires a lot of attention and offerings, that if you don’t do what she says, she will take your beauty away.

This is also not the case.

In my experience as an Aphrodite worshipper, she is very loving, along with being insanely passionate. Also being very vocal about her needs and wants.

Often getting signs from her isn’t at all uncommon. I remember the first few weeks I started working with her, I got an image on my feed that had these two eels intertwined together in a heart shape.

You will often feel connected to sea life, the sea in general, wanting to do things for yourself like dressing nicer and wanting to take care of yourself more.

Here are some things I’ve experienced in my time in working with her.

When I first started praying to her, I stuttered and fumbled over my words. A lot. I was oddly nervous about it? I’m not the type to stutter and fumble often. But beginning to feel nervous and even embarrassed in the presence of the goddess of love? Very normal.

She often enjoys getting milk and dark chocolate, along with roses or any kind of flower, real or not. I gave her chocolates, a fake rose, and a real flower for valentines day and she was insanely happy with it. So much so that her candle rested in a heart shape for a short while.

I often saw butterflies, a symbol of Aphrodite.

I often feel inclined to go to the beach, collect seashells, and do things that make me feel good.

I feel more comfortable expressing love. Before, I was never the type to use pet names for people, especially for friends. But i’ve noticed that I now call people sweet and endearing names. Honeybun, sweet pea, boo, sweetie/sweetness, and babes are things i’ve been saying lately.

She is very honest, often not sugarcoating things. I asked her when my ex first asked me out if we’d last. She said no and gave me explicit reasons as to why. Though I still went out and dated them anyway, and it pretty much ended in the way she said.

She very much enjoys art work of her. I’ve drawn her a few times, asking her to guide my hand in doing so.

Whenever I feel unattractive or hate something about my appearance, she usually makes someone compliment me that day or that week. I was having an off day with my hair, and in that same hour, a girl walked up to me and said that she loved my hair and the style it was in.

That is it for my beginners Aphrodite worship guide! I will be doing these for the other two deities I work with, Apollo and Freyja.

I do hope these were helpful. If you have any questions or need assistance with anything, my ask box and my dms are always open. So be sure to shoot me a message!

Much love to you. <3

[madamechrissy]

Keep This Low Key

💜 Pairings: Choso x Fem reader- Rating: Explicit- MDNI

💜 Contents/Warnings: Choso isn't super submissive like most stories, but he is a sweetheart and a doll baby! Has a tongue ring for reasons. In this chapter, fingering, cunnilingus, making out, sexual tension, friends w/benefits

💜 Word Count: this chap - 9.4k

💜 Summary: You have been Choso's best friend for years, and one night he has a date with Yuki, his girlfriend, while you have a date with Ino, your boyfriend, only for them both to break up with you at the same time! You all think of calling each other, but run right into each other. Choso brings you home since you didn't even have your car, and you two are crying over a couple beers and a silly movie, only to have a sudden idea.

Why not say fuck dating, fuck heartbreak, and just fuck each other? No drama, no mess, no upset, and you two are such good friends, nothing can go wrong, right? The only agreement is no feelings, and if you all find a s/o, you'll end things. But the moment Choso opens his heart to you, and the moment you start falling, things get messy, as you realize he's the best you've had, and you're falling hard. Will you all stay friends, become more, or will everything blow up?

✨️ Split POV, Mostly Reader but also Choso at the beginning <3 Comments and reblogs appreciated ✨️

💜 Masterlist 💜 Playlist 💜 (still in progress)

Chapter One

Choso’s POV

“What do you mean, you don’t want to be with me anymore?” Choso asks that cold fall night, voice breaking as he looks over at Yuki, who is standing in front of that movie theater, the one they had planned to go see tonight, and she’s all dressed up, her blond hair swishing as she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, Choso, you’re sweet but… there’s someone else I have feelings for, you’re a doll, really, but… I’m interested in him more. I never wanted to hurt you, but this was just something casual to me.” Choso breaks down then, feeling emotions wreck him, his heart thrumming in his chest, blood rushing through his veins.

“But I am falling for you, Yuki. Please.” He takes her hands then, and she sighs, Choso feels his world crumbling. “I thought you felt the same?”

Yuki looks into his violet eyes, frowning. “Fuck I feel like shit for this. But no, Choso for me it was just fun, you’re not my type exactly.”

He blinks his long dark lashes then, full lips setting seriously now at her words. “Not your type?”

“You’re gorgeous, sweet, so soft… I just need someone a little harsher, a little more manly, I’m sorry.”

He scoffs then, raising a dark brow. “Not manly, remember how I had you screaming my name over and over?” His voice is a low whisper, and he watches her reaction to them, but clearly not enough to matter.

“Well, you certainly are good at that.” Her pretty face blushes, her brown eyes looking away, and Choso starts to feel such anger, his heart clutched by her mean hands, he’d been falling for Yuki for some time now. They’d been together six months, that was not nothing and she so casually is tossing it aside.

“What did I do wrong?” He asks, his voice breaking in the middle. She is sighing then, as people walk in and out, arm in arm.

Yuki was the only girl Choso had ever been with, after having pined away for her for all of college, and finally he thought she gave him a chance. He gave all of his attention to her, even not spending time with his best friend, you, who he misses so much, because Yuki was so insecure about you.

He still tried to keep in touch and even bought you coffees and would hand them to you as he walked by your work every morning. You had been his best friend since middle school, he couldn’t not have you in his life. However your boyfriend also seemed insecure about your friendship with Choso, so there was some sad realization from both of you as you smiled so pretty and thanked him every morning.

That you all were so close it intimidated both of your significant others.

Choso had spent countless nights with you on the couch with him, watching movies, throwing popcorn at each other’s mouths to catch. Some nights you’d take his bed, and he’d sleep on the couch, other nights you’d both pass out and wake up awkwardly laughing, perhaps you’d drool, or Choso would snore. But that was all it was, friendship.

There was a time he’d wanted more, and he’d tried to tell you so many times, but you had been enamored with a boy at school, his name was Satoru, some popular white haired jock you had a thing for. You’d been in love with him all of high school in fact, so Choso had eventually let it go, the thought of more, and focused on truly being your friend. And friends only.

Then he’d seen her in Senior year, Yuki, and he’d had it so bad for her, she was so strong and feisty and enamored him. You eventually realized Gojo was not interested in you more than casually, and you had brought up something that he’d stopped, and he wishes he didn’t. He remembers it so clearly.

‘Cho, I have something to confess.’ You’d said softly, as Choso had been waiting for Yuki to come out of her class, so that he could invite her to the last dance of the school year.

‘Hey angel, what is it?’ He’d asked as he smiled at you, so pretty in your school uniform, surely by now you and Gojo were an item he figured, he didn’t know then that Gojo had hurt you.

‘Why haven’t we ever tried to… um, date? Am I not your type?’ You’d asked, looking down nervously at your Mary Janes. Choso’s mouth dropped open, for four years he had dreamed of those words, but now…

Now it felt a little too late, he was so enamored with Yuki, and you were his best, dearest friend in the world, he’d made himself resigned to that. “But you’re in love with Gojo?’

‘I thought I was, but Cho I think-’ Yuki had walked out then, and Chose had ruffled your hair and kissed your head, running after her like a lovesick puppy, just like you had with Gojo for so long.

Choso wished he’d have done that differently, but at that point he’d had feelings for Yuki, so both of you decided to stay friends, forever, no matter what, but what were you going to say? How would that have changed…

And shit, now he needs his best friend, as the girl he’s fallen so hard for so casually breaks his heart. He feels tears drip out the corners of his eyes, brushing them carefully with his thumbs, which have black nail polish chipping just a bit. Yuki sighs, shifting side to side and stepping up to Choso then, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t cry, shit… I could go about this nicer I guess. Choso Kamo, you’re a great guy, you really are, and I had fun. A lot of fun. But I need someone more serious, not in some silly rock band, I’m really sorry.” He glares then, jaw locking, as Choso’s band had certainly been doing very well, and getting much bigger. But Choso also worked his ass and made good money too.

Choso had his own house and had taken care of his little brother Yuji by himself, even putting him in college, when their grandparents who raised them passed away. He was focused on his music more lately now that Yuji was not with him, but he still made sure to have a savings, and lived pretty comfortably in his own place.

“I am serious, you’re giving me excuses about me being the problem, when it’s pretty clear you just… had someone in mind.” His brows draw together, as he brushes his hair back, half up in a bun tonight. Yuki opens her mouth to say something when a car drives right up, and it’s Suguru Geto who rolls his windows down in his silver sports car.

Choso knows Suguru from high school, Satoru Gojo’s best friend, Choso was cool with him but certainly not close. He looks at the two of you, dark eyes darting back and forth, before sinking back in his seat awkwardly. Choso’s violet eyes are wide as he stares at Yuki now, who’s biting her lower lip nervously, a hand on Choso’s shoulder again, gently.

“I’m sorry, Cho.”

“Don’t call me that.” He takes her hand off gently, he wants to smack it off but he can’t treat a lady like that, even if she’s currently awful.

“I’m sorry, man I came early I guess.” Geto says from his car, and Choso scoffs as he looks back at Yuki.

“Really, you’re not just leaving me, you’re leaving me with the man you’ve been hot for since high school?”

“Look, I am sorry. Maybe you can understand?” She says, as Choso blinks rapidly at her audacity, scoffing.

“Ouch.” Suguru says, and Choso is close to punching him, clenching his fists, covered in black rings and tattoos. Suguru was who Yuki had been in love with forever, Choso knew that, but he thought it was long gone. Suguru had moved to run a family business a year or so ago. “I’m sorry, man.”

“I don’t want to hear from you.” Choso says then, through his teeth, as he feels the situation overwhelming him, nothing about the cool night air can chill him, his skin on fire. “Go then, if that’s what you want.”

“Choso, maybe we can be friends one day? I’m so sorry.” She says then, and he laughs, covering his face, shaking his head.

“No. You’ll never be my friend.” He turns and walks away as he has to hear the sound of Suguru’s car zipping off, and her laughter out the window. Just a few days ago she’d been in his arms, he’d made her cum… fuck five times with his mouth alone, and she’d said he was the best she’d had.

How can it change so quickly?

He had a feeling he was further along in his feelings than Yuki, but he didn’t know she clearly didn’t see him as more than ‘fun’. Choso didn’t just do those things for fun, no Yuki was it for him, he’d even been contemplating getting her a promise ring, he’d gone with Yuji to shop around just last week.

He’s glad he couldn’t decide on one.

He is heading back now towards his car, contemplating calling you, fuck he needs you, needs your understanding, how you listen, your advice. You rub his hair back as he lays his head in your lap, and he’d done it for you, when Satoru had broken up with you on prom night, when you’d been such a mess in your pretty dress, and he’d danced all night with you.

When you’d picked Choso up as he’d been a drunk mess from his last girlfriend breaking up with him and took him to your place, and took care of him. He’d woken up and you’d looked so uncomfortable, he’d slept right in your lap, and you’d just sat there on the floor like that, your back on the couch. He’d bought you a massage, he felt so bad, but you’d just smiled.

You were the one who had helped get Yuji into college, his little brother had the biggest crush on you. It was adorable. He was like a lost little puppy after you, and you were so sweet with him, too. Yuji still asks about you, and when he visits he makes sure you’re coming over for dinner, heartbroken you were dating some guy named Ino now, but Choso supposes he’s nice enough.

He’s protective of you.

He wants to call you so bad, but fuck he can’t just put this on you, not when you’re on a date. Not when you all haven’t even seen each other anymore really. How can he be selfish, he doesn’t want you to feel used or feel like he’s put you on some back burner as a friend. He keeps staring at your name, but in his phone it used to be Angel 💜

Before Yuki had changed that one.

Choso leans against his car now outside the theater, where it’s quiet and the cold air is blowing more and more as fall brings in the chill, and he fixes your name right back to Angel 💜 Because why the fuck not. His heart is in pieces as he wishes he could hear your voice or see your smile. Fuck Ino was lucky…

Suddenly he sees a figure, a gorgeous shape on a woman a little bit towards the theater, he sees a nice ass and legs in a teeny dress, as the woman is shivering from the cold, then he hears her… crying. Fuck, is that you crying!? Choso runs back up to the sidewalk across from the theater, where there is a strip of restaurants, and he calls out your name, could it be…

You turn then, and he’s stunned for a moment, his breath caught in his chest as he drinks you in for a quick moment. Choso has never seen you in something like this, a tight little bodycon dress, black with silver chains around the waist, and your perfect breasts are revealed far more than he’s ever seen. He forces his eyes up to your face, then his heart breaks more.

You have mascara streaking down your cheeks, and you’ve eaten your lipstick off, just a red line on your full lips now. You sniffle when you see him, rubbing your arms, covered in goosebumps. Choso snaps himself out of it, taking off his jean jacket quickly, slinging it over narrow shoulders, and pulling you against his chest, feeling how hard you are shaking.

“What happened, angel?” He whispers, and you sob more, clinging to him now, as he buries his head down, bending low, inhaling your shampoo, some fruity scent he always loves. You’re tilting your head back to look up at him, looking so small and helpless in his big jacket, as you clutch his black dress shirt.

“I wanted to… to call you, Cho. But I didn't want to ruin your night.” He blinks then, watching your lip trembling, and he’s brushing your hair back, you’d curled it he notices, fuck you look beautiful even if you were upset. He shouldn’t think that but he can’t help it.

“You can always call me.”

“No, I can’t, Yuki hates me. Messaged me to stay away.” He rolls his eyes now, shaking his head. “It was months ago. I’m sorry I shouldn’t even be in your arms.” You pull back now, and he pulls you against him once more, looking down at you. “Cho, you’ll get yelled at.”

“You’re my best friend, I’ll hug you all I want. But also… fuck.” He takes a breath then. “It’s a long story I guess, but she fucking left me.”

“She what!? Is she stupid you spoiled the fuck out of her, and you’re so sweet, and hot… what!? You’re Choso.” You say then, and he melts, as he hugs you so tight again, and rocks you side to side.

“Fuck that for now, you’re clearly more upset. What happened? Did he… did he hurt you I’ll fucking kill him-”

“No not… he broke up with me too.”

“He what!? Is he a fucking idiot, you’re the perfect girl, so caring, and smart, and just look at you.”

“I’m a mess. Ugh. My feet hurt, Cho.” Choso turns then, and you giggle through your tears. “No way.”

“Hop up now, you don’t weigh shit. I’ll carry you to my car.” You tentatively wrap your thighs around his waist now, your arms around his neck, and he hoists you up, you squeal a bit, you’re so cute he thinks.

He shouldn’t think that, you’re just his friend, but how can he not?

“You’re the best friend, ugh I missed you. I forgot how high up you are here.” You tease, finally smiling against his cheek, before kissing it, and he’s happy you can’t see the pink on his cheeks. “I’m like fifteen pounds heavier than in high school you know.”

He rolls his eyes, you’ve got a perfect body, and have men drooling wherever you go. You’re silly not to see it. “Everyone is fifteen pounds bigger. I think it went to your ass though.”

“Cho!” You’re now laughing as he carries you down, laughing with you. “You saying I got a nice ass?”

Yeah you do, but he’ll keep it to himself for now. “I’m saying you had no ass in high school. Your pants wouldn’t stay up.”

“Neither would yours! You just gained muscle, jerk.” You tease, squeezing a bicep and making his breath catch.

“And you look beautiful, perfect, I promise. Just as beautiful as high school if not more so.” You exhale, he feels it tickling his neck as his hands press into your thighs, feeling the muscles as you squeeze him, and then the plush of your inner thighs where his thumb is pressing in.

Fuck they’re nice. Has he ever really noticed? He used to carry you around but you’d worn jeans typically, you were more casual then, he’s noticed you’ve gotten more dressy and girly with Ino. He then tenses further as you squeeze him tighter, and he feels… he feels your heat against him. He stops at his car now, easing you down, cursing himself with his eyes shut.

Choso just got hard carrying you.

He looks down as you hand him his jacket, seeing that outfit again. “Thank you for saying that, really. But even if I look good, it doesn’t matter. I am not enough for him, apparently.” You’re crying again, and he puts that jacket back on you, shaking his head, tilting your chin up.

“You know better. You’re more than good enough for anyone. Now, my place or yours? We’re far overdue for drinks and a movie session.”

“Can I sleep over at yours?”

Usually that would be so casual, but now suddenly… looking like this, he gets flushed thinking of it. “Um, of course you can. Do you wanna grab clothes?”

“No, I’ll just steal your shit.” You tease, leaning up on your tiptoes in your heels, kissing his cheek again. “I used to do that all the time.”

“I know you have so much of my hoodies, ugh.” You just grin, and he’s so happy to see you smile it melts him further, fuck he almost forgets how upset he is now that you’re here.

“Come get in, then we’ll tell each other what happened, yeah?” He holds the car door open for you, leaning over and seatbelting you in, putting him far too close to where your breasts were pushed up in your dress. He struggles to focus and find the clip of the belt, his breath against your skin, and he watches your nipples stick out under the thin material.

Fuck.

“I can do it, silly.” You tease softly, but he hears your voice is breathy, and he finally finds the clip, before sitting next to you and revving up his car, his black Mustang he’d had for years. You stretch a bit, showing too much leg when you put them on his dash, taking off your heels. “Do you mind?”

“No, of course, take em off. Never seen you in heels like that.” He tries not to focus on the fact that even your ankles and feet are pretty, let alone your calves and thighs. Fuck you have nice legs, and he shouldn’t be thinking that, so he struggles to think of the night instead. Of you being hurt, of him being hurt. Of what exactly happened so quickly.

“You’re a lifesaver, I swear.” You sigh then, leaning back, snuggling against his jacket and smiling prettily at him. He swipes some of your mascara off your cheeks when you hit a red light.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” He asks softly, you nod a little bit, biting your lower lip.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you, it’s embarrassing though…”

“You can tell me anything, remember?”

Your POV

Earlier that night

“You’re breaking up with me!?” You’d demanded then, as your boyfriend winces, you all are at dinner and everyone clearly hears you, people whispering, furthering your hurt and embarrassment.

You had been dating Ino for over six months now, that wasn’t nothing. And recently you both had gotten physical, too, something completely new to you, even at age twenty three. Ino had been your first, and you thought it…

“Did it mean nothing?” You whisper furiously, his brows draw together, and his eyes close. “My first time, you knew that. Why do it if-”

“I have feelings for you, you’re so beautiful and sweet. I swear it’s nothing you did, okay?” He touches your hand and you glare, smacking it off.

“It’s not you, it’s me? You’re saying that fucking line, Ino!?”

“Will you calm down-”

You stand then, scoffing. “Calm down, fuck no. We just did that, you just took it and now you- was I that bad?”

He stands, taking your shoulders and leading you out front, into the freezing night air, and you’re shivering. He takes off his jacket and you throw it on the ground, glaring as he sighs, his head falling back. “You are great, I swear. It’s not the physical, it’s more… you’re so immature.”

You scoff now. “Me, immature? You can’t even do anything without trying to please your family, I do shit on my own.”

“Or with your friend?”

You scowl now. “Don’t you bring up Cho, it’s not like I’ve hung out with him one fucking bit. Because you’re so insecure. And he’s a far better man than you! He wouldn’t leave someone after… that.”

“Listen I know it was important to you, I just have to tell you, there’s someone else in my heart.” You gasp now, stepping back. “She’s been in my heart, and now she’s finally agreed to date me.”

“So I was a fucking placeholder? Could you not have fucked me then, because it really wasn’t shit.” He stumbles back now, glaring down at you. “Could have fucked someone much better.”

“You seemed to like it-”

“I faked it. You can’t make girls cum with no foreplay, fucking idiot.”

“I fingered you-”

“For two minutes. Yeah then you went like two minutes. No I didn’t cum, fucking idiot. But I was okay with that, we could like learn from each other. I thought our relationship was doing so well, I thought I was falling for you.” You feel your tears threaten now, and Ino sighs, holding your shoulders gently.

“You’re a beautiful, smart girl, and successful. You’ll have whoever you want.”

“But I was with you. Because I wanted to be. What did I do to fuck it up, will you just tell me?”

“You fucked nothing up. It’s just… shit.” His phone rings then, and you see a name on the caller ID, Ino’s ex. You glare now. “It’s not what you think.”

“Tell me you didn’t fuck her while you fucked me.”

“I didn’t, plus me and you used condoms.”

“And!? The point!?”

“Jesus, you’re so dramatic. She’s much easier.”

“Easier!” You shove him then, turning and stomping away, and Ino chases you, grabbing your wrists. “Fuck off.”

“Let me take you home, it’s freezing and you’re in heels. You can’t just walk, please I know I hurt you, but I can’t let you just walk alone in the night.” You glare through your tears back at him, and watch him gulp, as he takes breaths, cupping your face tenderly, but it’s disgusting to you. “You looked so perfect tonight, I’m so sorry I hurt you. I know you were excited.”

“Why ask me on a date to break up with me?” You ask, choking on your sobs, fuck you thought he was the sweetest, the relationship had consisted of him doing everything for you, he was kind and caring and gentle. And he’d said he was falling in love with you.

You waited five months to sleep with him, you were a virgin (thanks to pining away for popular Satoru Gojo most of your school life) and then after so long of being one, you’d figured you would wait. The only man who you’d thought of sleeping with was your best friend, Choso, not that you’d ever let him know, or anyone know, you’d shoved that down.

And fuck you want to see him, you miss him so much, since you both had quit hanging out, his girlfriend hates you, and Ino doesn’t like Choso. So you’d stopped talking, aside from Cho sweetly bringing you a coffee every morning at work, smiling down at you with his gorgeous grin, always decked out in some goth outfit that fit him like a glove.

You still watched his rock shows from the back, he didn’t notice you, but even if they both didn’t like you as friends, you’d made a promise in middle school to be friends forever. A pinky promise at that, and both you and Cho quietly kept that, even if he didn’t know that you were there, supporting him.

Long ago you’d hoped for a chance, but you’d been so blinded by a Satoru Gojo infatuation you think you let his opportunity slip, and then you decided you’d be his friend, and his friend only. And how you need him now, to hold you while you cry, to listen to you, to stroke your cheek with his tattooed hands, covered in that dark polish you used to paint for him.

You miss him, you miss your friend.

Ino is still talking, and leaning down, almost as if to kiss you, and you smack his face, making his mouth drop open. “What’s that for?”

“What are you doing?” You demand angrily, the cold night air doesn’t serve to cool you down, your skin is on fire.

“Kissing you goodbye.”

You laugh then, through your tears. “Oh hell no. Fuck off, and never talk to me, ever again.”

“We could be friends? I really do care for you.”

“I will never be your friend. Ever. Now let me go.” He does then, but as you try to walk away he’s following you. “Go!”

“Let me pay the bill and I’ll drive you. Or let me get you a ride, please, it’s not okay to let you go like this.” You roll your eyes at him, stomping away now.

“My life is none of your concern now. I’ll walk.”

You want to call Choso so damn bad, fuck… but you know he’s with Yuki, shit he was thinking of serious things with her, he’d been in love with her so long. You could not ruin that for him, or bring your problems to him, you all could not have that relationship anymore, you couldn’t be that close.

You’re sobbing as you look at his name in your phone, it was Cho Bear 💜 But Ino had gotten mad, so you’d just changed it to Choso. As you walk down this long street, your tears falling and freezing your cheeks, you change it then, smiling just a bit, back to Cho Bear 💜 Because, fuck Ino.

Then you keep walking, as it all starts to hit you, that Ino had taken your virginity, and fuck you made him wait so long you did not think he just wanted to fuck, no he wanted a relationship and you weren’t good enough, even though you tried to give him your everything. You were some placeholder for him until his ex-girlfriend took him back, it was all some time waster to him.

Sex the couple times you all did it was truly not good, it didn’t hurt or anything and he was gentle, but you didn’t get pleasure. You’d had to rub your clit to feel anything and then it was too quick for you to cum, having to bust out a rose toy later on each time, it was about four times you all had fucked. You assumed it would get better but it never did.

So you kind of turned him down a bit, and maybe that is why he didn’t want you, but you were still a good partner, you tried to just get him off instead though, because you wondered if something was wrong with you. Now you wonder if something was just wrong with him.

Not that you ever want a damn boyfriend again, but you wouldn’t mind actually fucking, it seems so wasted all these years, you’re twenty three and the last damn virgin you knew, aside from Cho, but you’re sure he fucked Yuki by now. And you’re sure that man can fuck something about those big ass hands and long fingers…

You shouldn’t think of him like that

He’s only your friend, and barely that now.

Your feet are aching as you near a movie theater, where you and Ino had your first date, and you break down then, on the sidewalk, shivering and holding yourself as sobs wrack your body. You’re so mad, so upset, you can barely stand it, shivering in the night and your feet want to die. You need to order a ride, but you’re shaking so bad it’s hard to hold your phone.

Suddenly, you hear it, your name, and it’s…

Is that Choso!?

Now you are sitting on Choso’s black leather couch in his living room, one of his shirts swallowing you. He’s huge, buff and muscular, and way taller than almost any guy you knew, his shirt hits your knees and he chuckles when he sees you in it. You’d washed your face, thankfully Choso kept your things under his sink still, fresh faced, eyes puffy, your hair in a bun with one of his pony tails.

His violet eyes light up when you all talk, past the horrible moments of both of your nights, and now you all are watching one of his dumb horror flicks, with the stupidest fake blood there was. You’re both sipping on ice cold beers, throwing your heads back with laughter, it feels so good, so comfortable you think, to relax, to be yourself.

You’d definitely tried to live up to Ino’s expectations, to what his ex was like, so put together and perfect, but with Choso you could be yourself, bare faced in a big Nirvana shirt. Choso wraps his arm around you then, and he’s bare chested, just his black sweats on, and you try to ignore how good his skin feels against yours, how good he smells, how good he feels altogether.

Choso was so handsome, tattoos across his ribs, bands of more tattoos on his shoulders, a partial sleeve on one arm that goes down to his hands. Big hands, one touching your waist, taking it over completely, your shirt scrunching as he’s laughing at a part of the movie. Your body reacts violently, more so than when he’d leaned across you to seat belt you in.

You can’t ruin this, you can’t.

But he’s got you wet just leaning close and laughing, grabbing the popcorn bowl and standing then, as your eyes drink in his body, the firm well formed pecs and flat brown nipples, his rippling abdomen. Your eyes dip to his dark trail of hair below his belly button, throat going dry, and why when you’ve seen him plenty over the years, you have always known he’s hot.

“Want another one, angel?” He asks, and the name makes you blush for some reason, as you nod shyly, fiddling with the edge of his shirt on your thighs.

“Yes, please. Thank you!” He saunters to his kitchen, bending down and you see the strong muscles of his back when he stands. He swipes his hair back as he hands you another, it’s loose and hits his collarbone, as he smiles softly at you, sitting back next to you again. “Damn Cho Bear, working out?”

“That nickname, shit it’s been a minute.” He sips on his beer, leaning back on the couch now, and you watch his Adam's apple bop up and down under a little bit of stubble that’s grown. “You look like you’re working out too.”

“Mmm, just a couple times a week, nothing like you. I only do the treadmill and read my books on the phone.” He laughs then.

“Reading porn while getting in steps?”

“Hey!” You shove at him a bit, then he sets both of your beers on his little glass table, tickling you now. You’re gasping for breath, twisting and turning as he’s grinning over you, fingers tickling your waist. “Stop, stop shit!”

“You’re so cute though. At my mercy.” He sticks out his tongue as he tickles you, and your eyes find his tongue ring fascinating for far too many reasons, as you overheat, and you realize he’s between your thighs. You tense now, since you didn’t even have on anything but crotchless panties you’d worn tonight, and he’s brushing against you.

He pauses then as well, looking down your body, hands gripping your waist gently, thumbs pressing into your rib cage, as he looks right at your breasts, visible under his shirt, the outline of them. He gulps and looks down further, to where his shirt had rode up your thighs, up to your hips, exposing black lace panties, that covered goddamn nothing.

He just stays there over you, his breath caught like yours, hands trembling now as he exhales, eyes looking back up at yours, his pupils so dilated, his pretty eyes look black, his eyes lidded and heavy suddenly. You arch your hips up just slightly, and he lets out a soft moan from the back of his throat as he looks there, as he sees you, a hand moving to press on your tummy.

“Cho, I’m not um… I’m wearing…”

“He didn’t fucking deserve to see that.” He whispers then, and your breaths come even quicker, as you’re slowly reaching a hand up to his chest, feeling his hot skin under your palm.

“He was my first.” You say softly, and he grimaces, shutting his eyes then.

“I’m looking at you like this, when you just… fuck I should be a better friend, I’m so sorry-” He leans back but you pause him, hands firm on his biceps now.

“I don’t mind. He was my first and I didn’t cum, like not once? I don’t know if he sucked or if I sucked. But it was pretty new, only a few times before he left.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. I know you wanted it special.” He says softly, leaning down, still over you, his hair falling softly on your skin, you brush it back, mind whirling.

“It’s okay, I know you are hurt too. Um, did you like sex though?” He is blushing now, looking away for a moment, nodding. “I guess I was turning him down and just getting him off because I didn’t. It’s kind of awful of me. Maybe-”

“It was that bad? Shit. Like he hurt you?” You shake your head. “Was he selfish? Not enough foreplay?”

“You seem so experienced now, we were the last virgins in Japan.” You tease with a smile, and he leans on an elbow now, laying on his side, a hand stroking your thigh before he stops himself, cursing. “It’s okay, I like it.”

“Are you sure?” You nod nervously, as he brushes his fingers up and down your thigh, and you whimper before you can stop, covering your mouth embarrassingly, as his lips part. “Fuck you’re sexy. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No… um… Cho…” You lean up on your elbows then, bringing his attention back to your breasts, now outlined so well, he has to clear his throat, as his hand still rests on your thigh, above your knee. “Have you ever thought of fucking me?”

“Have I what!?” He sits up then, covering his face, and you panic, turning away and covering yours.

“Oh my god I’m so stupid, of course you haven’t, Yuki was your love, and I look nothing like her. And-”

He pauses you then, hands on your shoulders, and you can’t bear to look at him. “No, no, you’re beautiful, of course I have, I just got embarrassed, like you knew I have or something.”

“Y-you find me attractive?” You ask, not looking at him still, he has to tilt your head to him, sighing.

“Of course I do, I always have. There was a good three years of pining for you in high school, and you’ve just gotten hotter. But I never wanted to lose our friendship.”

You take a breath now, turning and looking up at him, a hand trailing down his abdomen, watching it flex under your touch. “So, what if we have sex, like maybe you can teach me things? And just sex, nothing else. No strings attached.”

“I’m in a dream.” You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I am, you’re in this shirt, looking so beautiful, asking me to fuck you?”

“Well, yes. I wanna get off and enjoy it. Also I don’t ever wanna date again, at least not any time soon. I imagine you don’t either.”

“Oh fuck no I don’t wanna date. I don’t think I can take that pain again.” You cup his face gently, and he kisses your palm, as you feel your pussy clench around nothing at just thinking of it. “You sure you wanna do this? You’re so new to sex.”

“You are too, though you seem to have had a better time.” You say with a giggle, and he tilts his head to the side.

“Did he not prep you at all?”

“Um, he fingered me for a minute. But I was really dry, and it’s not dry when I play with myself.” Choso’s bright red now, his eyes bugging out. “Shit, TMI?”

“I mean…” He clears his throat, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, then back at you. “No, if we do this I think we should be so honest, we’re best friends we can really do that.”

“Exactly! Give each other instruction, on our bodies. Right, and I’m comfortable with you, you’d never hurt me.” You say with a soft smile, as you scooch closer, and you hear his breath catch, his hands trembling a bit as you take one, putting it on your chest, where your heart races. “Just sex, and no feelings. Any other rules?”

“Yes, if you find someone else, please tell me.”

“Of course, and same with you! Honesty all around.”

“Pinky swear?” He holds one out, and you giggle, nodding, wrapping your finger with his, then you’re both sitting there, his other hand still on your chest. “Did he not eat you out?”

It’s your turn to blush. “No, he licked it for a second before the first time, but I am not sure it counts.”

“And no one has?” You shake your head again, and now his hands slide down your body, pressing into your hips, he watches you gasp, your head leaning back, eyes fluttering shut. Your body has never felt like this, never responded this way. “So I have a request then, for us to do this.”

“Of course, anything you want, Cho Bear.” Anything for him to keep touching you, fuck he’s leaning down now, and you can’t take it, seeing sweet Cho Bear so sexy. You knew it was there, but you’d never seen it.

“Let me pleasure you only tonight, then we’ll do more if you really like it.”

“But I wanna do things too!” You pout, and he smiles, leaning even closer, his lips a breath away, noses touching.

“You can next time. I wanna see how many times I can make you cum, as a friend you know.” He whispers against your ear, Choso Kamo, Cho Bear, your sweet little best friend…

Fuck he’s grown up, huh?

And fuck he’s turning you on breathing against your cheek more than Ino did touching you, fucking you. Your body eagerly reacts, to the point it’s ridiculous, but you nod then, shyly. He chuckles a bit, as he picks you up suddenly, and he’s carrying you like you’re nothing, so strong and big, to his room, all goth and decked out in music posters, his guitars lined on his wall.

He lays you down on the center of his bed, with dark red blankets, fingering the hem of your shirt. “Are you comfy taking it off? I really would love to see you, but not if you’re nervous.”

He’s so goddamn sweet you think, how dare Yuki be such a bitch to your best friend, you think. You nod nervously, raising his shirt over your head now, baring yourself to him for the first time, and you can’t meet his pretty eyes. You hear him moan softly, and your eyes look at him, where he’s staring at you hungrily, running a hand through his hair.

“Fuck you’re so pretty. So perfect I… fuck.” He leans over you again, the bed springs creaking under his weight, and your nipples press against his chest. “Is it cool if we kiss first? Is it too romantic?”

“I’d like to kiss you.” You respond, and he moans again, that sound makes you even wetter, as he’s kissing you for the first time, and you melt at it, at his sweet firm lips, so gently brushing yours. He gently does it again, and again, as your tongue darts between his lips, craving more. He cups your face, pulling back.

“You’re so beautiful.” You get emotional suddenly, after the horrible rejection, this sexy ass best friend of yours, who you love so much, makes you feel so seen and so noticed. “Is that cool to say?”

“Yes, it’s good with me. Thank you Cho, you’re handsome, so handsome.��� He’s blushing again, so cute you think, kissing you softly, before he’s between your thighs, and now kissing a trail down your throat. “Ah!”

“You taste sweet.” He says against your skin. “I talk alot, um if it’s annoying tell me to-”

“Choso, no I love it. You couldn’t - ah- annoy me, oh! Mmm!” He’s sucking on a nipple now, looking up under those long black lashes, as you feel the cool ball of his tongue ring on your nipple. You’re getting so wet, and gasp when he finds your clit, swirling with his thumb, and he pulls back, eyes seductive as he looks down at you.

“You’re so wet, fuck that’s sexy.” He murmurs, fingering the sticky mess, and you’re shifting your thighs for more, whining out. “And those sounds you make, oh my god.”

“Cho… please, touch me more?” You ask, and he nods eagerly, slipping a thick finger inside your eager entrance, and you’re crying out just from that, as he presses up and hits some spot that makes you gasp, seeing stars. “Cho, what!?”

“Your G spot, pretty. It’s - ah- there, mmm.” He’s leaning lower, kissing your tummy as he keeps pressing, now pumping his finger in and out, and you’re dripping down all Choso’s black rings, so wet you hear yourself, your hands now clutching the blankets tightly. “Look at you, you’re so perfect, perfect pussy.”

“Cho!” You don’t expect this, him talking so dirty, when you’ve known Choso as this sweet, innocent thing. But fuck he’s hot, as he’s sinking two fingers now, and you wince just a bit at the stretch.

“So tiny, want just one?” He asks, but you shake your head.

“I can take two.” You whisper, earning his smirk, it’s not a sweet Cho Bear smile, it’s seductive and sure, as he shoves two fingers in, and you scream out, as he’s kissing your soft tummy, then lower, and you feel yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Oh my… s’good I…”

“Two of my fingers aren't like normal, are they angel?” He whispers, and you shake your head in agreement.

“Thick.”

“Mmm, why don’t you cum on my fingers first, let me feel you pulsing.”

“Pulsing- wh- what- ah! Fuck!” You scream out then, feeling so intense you can’t take it, overwhelmed as he’s scissoring his two thick fingers, looking at you hungrily, and then he rubs his thumb on your clit, making you shatter. You cum all over his fingers, soaking his entire hand, as your orgasm washes over you. “Oh my god fuckfuckfuck!”

He’s moaning then, leaning up and kissing you, exhaling his sweet breath against your lips as you’re trembling violently, eyes rolled back when he slips his fingers out, still pulsing out wetness. He sucks you off his fingers then, moaning and rolling his violet eyes back, his strong cheekbones more pronounced as his cheeks hollow. Your mouth drops open at how sexy he looks, as your pussy aches.

“So yummy, I knew it.” He whispers, kissing you again, and you taste yourself, heating up more as he’s pressed between your thighs, you feel how hard he is under his sweats, and fuck he feels huge, too. You grind up and he pauses you, inhaling sharply. “Fuck don’t do that.”

“S-sorry, oh my god what was that!?” He grins then, sliding down until his face is between your thighs, and he’s spreading your lips apart, staring right at you. Your thighs close but he stops them. “Cho…”

“That was a warm up. Are you ready for me to taste you?” He asks, constantly asking permission, which touches you, and you nod then, so nervous. “Good, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“A good girl Choso you’re a freak now? Oh my, ah! Mnh!” Now he’s sliding his tongue up your slit, and you’re jerking, hips bucking up, as he’s spreading your thighs wide with his big hands, pressing into the plush of your thighs, and sliding his tongue up to your clit now, which twitches under his tongue ring. “Choso Kamo! Choso you’re… that tongue ring!? What the fuck, holding out on a friend.”

He laughs against you, breath tickling you, taking one of your hands then, putting it on his head. “I’ll make up for it and get my best friend off so much she’ll pass out if she pulls my hair.”

“Pull it? Like this?” You pull gently, and his eyes flutter shut, white teeth biting a lower lip. “You sure, it’s okay?”

“I want you to put me there please?” He asks softly, eyes big, pouting all cute, making you giggle. “Put me where you want me, and fuck my face till you cum.”

“I don’t know where!”

“I’ll lick, and you pull my hair and press my face into that spot you like, sounds good?” You nervously nod, and then his tongue is fucking devouring you, you hear the sounds of him drinking you in the night, completely lewd, the squishing obscene, and you’re a mess, screaming out as he hits your clit again.

“There, please! Is it really okay-” He nods, moaning, and you’re yanking on his hair, shoving him against your pussy, as your thighs are on either side of his handsome face. He’s moaning as you do, grinding against the bed, flicking his tongue so fast you cum even harder than his fingers, and his tongue ring is flicking on your clit now, the sensation making you gush out.

You’re so overwhelmed as your toes curl, as your eyes roll back, and you’re grinding your hips against his face, and he’s sliding his hands to your ass, gripping the fat of it and yanking you closer, burying his face further, sucking your clit into his mouth, and making you fall apart again. Your hands are enwrapped in his silken hair, as his eyes look up at you then.

Your heart falters in your chest then, as he’s sucking on your clit, vibrating it with his moans, and your orgasm washes over you in waves, you stop pulling his hair, instead you’re gently holding his face as your hips roll back, overstimulated now. He takes a breath as he watches you, finally leaning up, the lower half of his face covered in your slick.

You’re a twitching mess, tears in your eyes when he licks his lips, smiling up at you now. “You all right, Angel, too much?”

“It’s a lot but holy fuck. It’s amazing.” You say softly, earning his grin brightening his face, as your emo best friend lights up, between your thighs. “How do you breathe like that!?”

He chuckles. “It’s a talent. Do I really have to stop, I wanna get you off more.” He pouts again, and you’re barely able to stand when he kisses your pussy again, he’s so good you’re just infuriated Yuki got this, that anyone did, it’s that good.

“I’m so sensitive- mmm!”

“Good, one more for me could you please? You’re so yummy, please.” You giggle then, breathless, your body on fire at how good you feel.

“Oh god, I mean a little more. You’re way too good at this, I’ve never even gotten myself off that good.”

“How do you get yourself off?” You blush even as he’s kissing the lips of your pussy.

“Um, rose toy. But that tongue ring of yours? Hits so much better.” He’s kissing your pussy over and over, sliding his finger back in, you’re so soaked it’s stupid, a mess under your best friend, and his eyes crinkle just a bit as he smiles up at you.

“You look so sexy when you cum.” You’re covering your face nervously, and he laughs softly, pulling them down by the wrists. “You do.”

“You don’t have to say all that.”

“I mean it. I would never say what I don’t mean.” You get emotional again, you don’t know if it’s the night, or how hard you’ve released all that tension built up, or if it’s… if it’s Choso, looking at you like that.

Friend, friend, friend.

Right?

You can keep it casual, if anyone can it’s you and Choso.

Right?

“Only if you want more, of course.”

“Oh, I might pass out. But yes, please.” Choso smiles again, and dives back down, now he’s using his finger and hitting your spot, and lavishing your clit with his tongue, as his free hand slips up and squishes a breast in his big hand, and you’re gasping for breath as all of your senses focus on pleasure, fading out your vision, your grip of reality.

Fuck you’re not mad he ate Yuki out, you’re furious Choso ever ate anyone out but you, and you’re so mad you had been just missing this for all these years. He’s so good you wanna confess love from just how he’s flicking his tongue back and forth, how he’s pinching your nipples, and you’re clinging to his wrist now, bringing a finger to your lips, sucking on them.

He’s moaning, fingering you and lifting his mouth up as you do, as you stroke your mouth up and down, swirling your tongue, and his violet eyes glint in the night, his soft sounds from his throat making you wonder how he sounds when he cums. How he looks when he busts, how he tastes, as you suck on thick fingers, and Choso flicks his tongue one more time, and you scream around them.

You’re barely able to focus as he slides up you, and you’re crying out, as he settles between them, watching you with hungry eyes, as you pull back with a pop, blushing. “It seemed hot to do?”

“So fucking hot, shit.” He whispers, kissing you over and over now. “Are you okay angel?”

“Yes I’m better than okay, I’ve never felt like this. I should have asked for this sooner.”

“Well, we both were lovesick. Weren’t we?” He’s laying on his side, propped up on an elbow, rubbing his hand up and down your hips and waist as you turn to your side too.

“We were, and I’m done, Cho, I’m so done with relationships. I think this could be perfect, and we don’t have to change.”

“You really did change, I noticed. Not that I don’t like you dressing girly, but it’s a little different than I’m used to.”

“I know you also were trying to be so much more… serious?”

“She said not manly enough.”

“You’re manly as fuck. You’re just also sweet, and open. You don’t care about society shit, fucking love that about you. Don’t you dare change, not when you get a girl again. Promise?”

“You promise too, you’re so perfect. And if I can say…” He leans close now, and you feel yourself react, every inch of your skin sensitive. “You have the yummiest, prettiest pussy ever.”

“Oh stop! Flattering me huh?”

“No, it’s true. You do. He’s so stupid.”

“She’s so stupid.”

“Can I kiss you after or should we keep it to… like a prelude to playing? I really like kissing you.” You feel your heart stop, because every time you kiss Choso, you feel something you never have. You don’t know if it’s desire, chemistry… it’s dangerous but when he asks like that? When you want it too?

“You can, I like it alot too. But… let’s just make sure we um keep it around sex I guess? Before or after?”

“That works for me.” He kisses you softly, brushing your hair back, until it gets more heated, and your teeth are clicking, tongues wrapping, dripping saliva between you both. You’re moaning softly, and he’s gripping you so tight, your hand slides down his stomach, but he stops it.

“Cho, lemme suck you. I kind of know how!”

“Well that’s one thing I didn’t do.”

“What!? How did she not?”

“I asked you the same.” You roll your eyes.

“Did we have shitty lovers?”

He laughs softly. “Selfish ones. You can try that tomorrow, just let me have a night where it’s about you.”

His words and how he says them touch you so deeply you can’t help but have tears fall, and he frowns in concern as he brushes them away.

“Am I too much, I know I can be-”

“You’re perfect, it was just sweet is all. I’m tired and buzzed, and just came so much I think I’m fucked up.” He’s kissing your forehead now, nodding as he helps you sit up now. “I should probably sleep, I’m still emotional, I think.”

“Do you want the bed?” He asks, grabbing your shirt and sliding it over your body slowly. Him dressing you feels almost as intimate as undressing. He sits next to you on the bed, tilting his head, and you try to remember it, friends, friends, friends.

Best friend ever, best mouth ever.

But, best friends.

“We could cuddle or is that weird?” He brings it up then, and you contemplate it for a moment.

“Cuddle buddies huh?”

“I’m such a good cuddler.”

“Okay, we can try but I get hot at night. And kick all the blankets. And roll in circles. And-”

“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”

“No!”

“Uh huh. We can sleep separately, maybe it’s too weird?”

“Yeah maybe. Maybe just in the same bed?”

“Sure, sounds good to me. Let me get you some water.” He comes back with a glass of ice water, and you sip greedily, sighing.

“You’re the best friend ever, Choso Kamo.” He’s grinning as he lays next to you, popping a big body pillow between you, wrapping his arms and legs, and fuck you want to be that pillow, but you worry it would make things so complicated.

“You’re the best friend, fuck I thought I’d be a wreck tonight. Thank you.” He says softly, brushing a thumb down your cheek.

“Thank you! For… well shit a lot. I’m so mad I’ve missed out on this mouth this long, I think I’ll be mad when I can’t get it.” He blushes again, as you hold the hand on your cheek now.

“I don’t think I’ll date any time soon, so don’t worry.”

“Same. And I have a favor to return in the morning.”

“I can’t say I’m not stupidly excited. I hurt.”

“Cho, I can do it now!”

“You go to sleep. I told you, I want it about you.” He yawns then, covering his mouth and then shutting his eyes, and you admire his perfect features for a moment, brushing his hair back and he practically purrs, making you smile.

It takes a long time to sleep, tossing and turning a bit, as the thoughts of Ino have faded to goddamn near nothing, and you’re sleeping next to your best friend, thinking how sweet it would be in his arms. This was your idea, and was it insane, could you all truly do this? You think it’s worth finding out.

You sleep finally when Choso has thrown his body pillow and snuggled against you, kissing your cheek. You giggle as you snuggle into his warm embrace, feeling so comfortable suddenly. “You look like you need cuddles.”

“I guess I do. Good night, best friend. Little Cho Bear.” You tease softly, and he smiles against your neck, snuggling under the blankets he’s thrown over you both.

“Good night, Angel.”

Angel, why does the name make your pulse race?

You can’t wonder too long, as sleep drifts you off in his arms.

Surely it won’t be too complicated, right?

Tag List: @erencvlt @antisocialinlw @aquamarine001 @makingtimemine @maskedpacific @mima0127 @yxnnu @teacupwaifu @lana18918 @bigbird789  @angellliqua @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @aldebrana @staygoldsquatchling02 @bts-psycho @lillycore @mysticalnightbeliever @wystriz @jazzthatonewriterchick @yung-notorious @tokyolhtl @imabyssa @delicate-ray-of-sunshine @ivyvenus333 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 

(Taglist open- excited to hear what ya'll think, this was a long one!)

Chapter Two is here!

[ash-says]

Being in touch with your sensuality:

On today's episode of ash-says we are going to talk about how to get in touch with your sensuality. Personally it's something I am very passionate about and kind of indulgent too.

Sensuality helps me in feeling alive and in tune with myself. I can't guarantee it for everyone but for me it works wonders. It's like the "Amrut" or "rejuvenating water" (for a lack of better terms) for me. Along with that it's the most healthy way for expressing my sexuality and keeping it in control to not let it affect my day to day functioning.

Here are some ways I incorporated in the last five years of my life to be in touch with my sensuality:

1) Exercise: No matter what I am going to vouch for this always. The way it helps me in expressing the surplus energy and controlling my desires is a chef's kiss. Plus helps in tackling the sluggish feeling.

2) Dance: Especially the slow sensual seductive dance. Not only it's a good outlet but above all that it validates the emotions and creates a space to delve in it to create a beautiful synchronisation with the body movements.

3) Art: Create! Create! Create! Nothing better than creating beautiful art or writing poems, stories,etc to voice your passion for the world and it's offerings.

4) Music: I have playlists on Spotify that specifically cater to my sensual mood. It has all the songs that can set a tone for the bedroom (iykyk). Singing to it or dancing works wonders. It's a magical experience.

5) Meditation: You can meditate on those feelings to internalize it and put all that energy in proper use for achieving a goal,etc. This is something I very rarely do because I am a very active person but putting it out here cause it works for some people.

6)Play Barbie: This is my personal favourite. After all I am just a girl. I put on some makeup, wear a bold sexy outfit or a cute dress (depending on the mood) then spend my time reading a romance novel and listening to sensual songs. It's my kind of therapy🦋🦋

7) Be a model: Being all dressed up but not clicking any photos you got to be kidding me!!! Come on girl! Pose and click! You are not going to be this young again. The best thing I do is this. It literally helps in skyrocketing my confidence. I don't click pictures daily but boy when I do, God forbid!!

8) Unlearn the shame: The basic one. You need to own your body first and appreciate it. I know saying is easy but hey you won't get there if you never start.

9) Imitate things that you find sexy: I will explain this with an example, so I find laying on the bed on my chest with my legs dangling in the air extremely sexy so when I am alone I will lie on the bed in that way as a way of expressing. Secondly, we all know sipping wine while reading a book is incredibly sexy while being dressed all slutty but I don't consume alcoholic beverages so as an alternative I drink pomegranate juice. Plus I find pomegranate as the sexiest fruit for obvious reasons.

10) Invest in things that make you feel sensual and seductive: It doesn't need to be costly. Find your sexy and invest!! For me it's aroma candles, jewellery, deep neck tops, skirts, ribbons, art honestly I have developed a knack to turn any ordinary thing into something seductive atp I feel. Everything works for me. So exploreeee!! If you are experimental enough and don't have parental risks you can try out sex toys too.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[hrrtshape]

FAME DR — random things i catch myself doing

⋆   checking my reflection in every reflective surface – not even trying to be vain; it just happens. windows, sunglasses, the back of my spoon in restaurants… gotta make sure the hair’s doing its thing!!!!!! can you blame me?? after scripting that im the most beautiful person in the galaxy world universe planet earth the extraterrestrial covering???

⋆  getting waay too into my own fan edits – i know, i know. i know !! but i can’t help it. cause why are some of these people lowkey bob ross’es…….. and god knows those iwishutalktalkwishutalktalkwishutalktalk edits slap!!!!!

⋆  making a mental list of all the celebrities i want to befriend – every awards show, it’s like, “ooooooooo, gotta chat with her next time. ye. ye,” or “could we handle being besties? or would she be too busy? would i be too busy??” 

⋆  doing my own mini-paparazzi test runs – i’ll walk down my hallway pretending it’s a red carpet, testing aaallll thé best angles and smiles for when the cameras flash. “which look is more it girl chic baddie mysterious diva core? do i give a little smile or keep it ice-cold? attitude?? fuck. what i do.”

⋆  googling my own name with random keywords – like “[…] + scandal” just to see what wild stories fans are spinning, or “[…] + best outfits” to remind myself that I AM…indeed.. that girl

⋆  pretending i’m on vogue’s “73 questions” while i do mundane stuff – loading the dishwasher or folding laundry, and all of a suddem i’m answering fake questions about my favourite ice cream flavour like the world is (definitelly….definitely…) watching.

⋆  using my awards as high-key decor – casually arranging grammy’s, oscars, tony’s and emmys’ on my living room shelf, so they’re visible for any.. unplanned photos. they might as well count as conversation starters.

⋆  accidentally stealing lip glosses from every makeup artist I work with – it’s not intentional! but I end up with an ever-growing collection of shades that accidentally find their way into my purse. oops ? the 11 year old kleptomaniac in me never left, i guess. 

⋆  tossing air-kisses to fans out the windows – dramatically waving out the window to invisible crowds like i’m on a royal tour. it’s mainly just for me, but I feel like the main character every single time.

⋆  practising my award speech in the shower – just in case, you know ? i’m running through all the thank yous and shoutouts, making sure the delivery is tear-worthy but not too dramatic.

⋆  catching myself using my best “signature” autograph – even when signing random receipts, i go full-on with my signature. i know it’ll end up on ebay one day, so i make it flawless every time.

⋆  overthinking my outfit to do something minor – even stepping out for two minutes has to look like it’s casual yet unbelievably chic. what if a fan spots me or a candid photo gets out? the pressure’s real.

⋆  choosing my airport outfits as if It’s a NYFW – the airport is a runway for the weary and jet-lagged, so i’m showing up in my finest oversized hoodie and designer shades, ready to be “spontaneously” photographed.

⋆  taking a nap between interview segments – there’s a tiny couch in my dressing room for a reason, and you better believe i’m getting that beauty sleep between each round of the press circuit. besides. it’s very convenient that i scripted i look angelic after waking up. so, yes! 

⋆  listening to my own songs on repeat (in private) – yeah, yeah, yeah, maybe it’s a little narcissistic, but when I’m alone, my music is basically my personal ‘bop-makker’ playlist. 

⋆  bringing little sweet treats to red carpets – you don’t know hunger until you’re in an all-day event in a tight dress with no food in sight, so yes, i stash some of those bombastic granola bars in my clutch.

⋆  updating my pinterest boards – 24/7 adding new aesthetics, vintage looks, moody photoshoots, and iconic glam shots for future eras. the grind never stops !! besides, it’s xtremely fun to find archival gowns that i could just be like… “yeah, i want it.” 

⋆  taking a pic every time i feel iconic !! – at the end of the day, it’s all about those little moments of mine. how could i not capture myself looking iconic with my hair blowing in the wind, or that one perfect winged eyeliner and i won an oscar. this is MY MOMENT. 

⋆  signing a signature with something xxxtra 4 fans – if i see a fan with my merch, i’ll randomly sign it and add hearts, sparkles, whatever i can just to make it extra special. just please don’t put it on ebay again with a doubled price 

⋆  giggling over my own wikipedia page – homemade margarita blender and a straw in it in hand, reading. yes. i do that. unemployed at heart. also sometimes raising an eyebrow when i encounter something false. like, no…i haven’t been dating dev patel. i mean, i wish ! 

⋆  humming my own lyrics while shopping — as if some people wouldn’t recognise them !! just a little “oopsy, did i just sing my grammy-winning chorus in the cereal aisle?”

⋆  leaving my phone on loud because it could be beyonce, for all intents and purposes — ready for all incoming calls. for interviews. for mysterious dinners. for my situationship to text me. for that movie role. but also probably just mom, calling to check on me.

⋆  breaking into runway walks — from the kitchen to the bathroom, because i !!!have!! to practice those killer strides. preferably in slippers.

⋆  complimenting my own acting in movies — like……“damn, i’m talented. i’m pretty good at this, huh..” lowkey shocking myelf during certain scenes, because yes, i went *THERE.*

⋆  collecting little trinkets from world tours — coasters, matchbooks, hotel room keys (should’ve probably given those back, now that i’m thinking about it), because each one is a time capsule from the adventure.

⋆  randomly testing my oscar acceptance expressions in the mirror — gotta know how much to cry, smile, or look truly humbled when the time comes !!!!

[itsa-me-lily]

I am still tired, but brain is less mush after some lunch. (Can you guess what I had)

Here is other Simon & Thimble playlist

Here is more Military Program Spouse AU

It helps to assume here that unless stated otherwise Simon is wearing a medical mask around reader. She’s just like whatever floats your boat my dude

Content warning;

Mention of food, medical devices, scars, cellulite

“Simon whatever your middle name is Riley you better not be looking at my legs.”

Maybe his mum had a point, that women developed eyes in the back of their head. He wasn’t deliberately looking at your legs, but he wasn’t not not looking either. For some reason unbeknownst to him, you had decided that you had to make the biggest batch of soup known to man. Sure the seasons were changing, summer slowly letting go for fall, but it wasn’t as if a chilly wind was rattling at the windows threatening to steal whatever heat existed. It was still relatively balmy, warm enough to have the windows open and enjoy the breeze. Warm enough that having the stove going made the kitchen borderline stuffy, encouraging you to cook in just a loose tank top and shorts that hit mid thigh.

Simon wasn’t a prude, he wasn’t scandalized at seeing the curve of your thighs, or grossed out by the cellulite. Everyone had fucking skin and however you wanted to dress in the comfort of your home you were welcomed to it. But he had eyes and well he was curious. His own body was covered in scars and tattoos that told a myriad of stories. So he looked to see what yours had to say.

Picking at the chicken you had left on the counter he counted the spots that your insulin pods left behind like stars, noticed how you missed a small strip of hair when you were shaving, even the mole that you had on the back of one ankle; they all came together to make up parts of a story about his wife that he was just starting to get.

He was so lost in thought, mechanically putting piece after piece of poached bird into his mouth, barely paying attention to anything besides the action of seeming busy, that he didn’t notice when you turned around, the exasperation in your voice finally catching his attention.

“Seriously? What did I just say?”

Simon wasn’t someone who startled, didn’t jump or hunch his shoulders to his ears. He had spent far to much time sharpening himself as to cut anyone who tried to catch him unaware. He just wasn’t prepared for you to admonish him like that, hands on your hips and looking for him to answer your question.

“What? You said not to look at your legs…I wasn’t lookin’ at them”

Not a lie, but not quite the truth.

“Yeah instead you’re eating your way through them!”

He blinked at you slowly once and then twice, following your gaze down to the plate of chicken leg quarters he was indeed making his way through. At least one looked like it had been pounced on by scavengers.

“You said no lookin’, nothing about no tasting.”

That was most certainly a twitch to your eye. That probably should have been concerning, but honestly Simon was secure enough in his height and size that if you tried to suffocate him he could throw you off. He was a good head taller than you, honestly how much damage could you do? When you pointed your wooden spoon threateningly at his chest it didn’t do much besides remind him of a little old grandma who would wield the same utensil as a weapon.

“You sir, are an asshole. Now go run to a shop and get me one of the pre cooked chickens.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve eaten half my damn chicken and like hell is my sancocho going to suffer for it.”

“Your what now?”

Yes Simon Riley knew he was being as ass. Yes he also thought that there was a realm of possibility that your upset face and clear murderous intentions were slightly endearing. But only slightly.

“My god damn soup. I swear to god if you fuck this up for me I will find a way to make you suffer the consequences.”

“Alright alright, no need to have a bird over some-heh, bird.”

He didn’t stay to see the double middle fingers you aimed for his back, he didn’t need to. He was pretty sure you were also cursing his name and maker. It wasn’t until the front door shut behind him that your colorful vocabulary was loudly shared with the world. It made him chuckle as he picked up his pace.

Heaven help anyone who got between a woman and her soup.

Edit

I am very passionate about my soup

[prodagustd]

the road not taken 04 | myg

part four: a wish

Summary: Were you about to go crazy if you started to consider that Yoongi felt something for you?

<part three | part five>

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, FLUFF ❤️‍🩹, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension!!!!! flashbacks, ANGST!! mentions of sex 👀Btw english is not my first language!

—words: 9.6k

—a/note: hiiii friends!!! i'm glad to say that it didn't take me six months to post this :D. I genuinely went through the most stressful two months of my life so I'm really proud that I could finish this chapter while trying to survive this thing called being an adult!! Anywayy, I’m excited for this chapter but I’m MORE EXCITED FOR THE NEXT ONE… 👀 so please have patience with this story!!! I promise it’s worth it hehehe. As always, you are more than invited to discuss this chapter in the asks, feedback is always welcomed <3 this one is very fluffy i hope you enjoy ittt. (Also if you read a typo, no you didn’t)

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Four years ago

Seven days before New Year’s Eve

Were you too naive to still believe your father when he said that you were granted a wish every Christmas? He used to say that every year when he was still around and you were still a kid, when the clock struck twelve you could wish anything you wanted, as long as it wasn’t something material or more presents, you had to wish for something special, something that made you happy. 

The last Christmas before your father passed away you were seven years old and still believed in Santa Claus. That year, for some reason, your wish slipped your mind, you forgot about it completely. You stayed at your house, watched movies the whole day in your pajamas and at midnight your parents let both you and Simon open only one present before sending you to bed. You remembered how your father chased you to the stairs to tickle you until you cried of laughter and how good the cookies your mother made that night were, perhaps that year you were too happy to remember making a wish, perhaps what you had was enough. When you woke up the next morning, you were sad that you had wasted it, but your father, wise as ever, told you not to worry. He said that it was like you were saving your wish for the next year — maybe then it would be stronger, and maybe, since you waited, you would have a better chance of it coming true.

By the time Christmas came the following year your father was already gone, and with him all the magic of the world. You had to grow up, you stopped making wishes and tried to stop believing in stories, but it was difficult when his words were still at the back of your mind like some sort of tradition every holiday season. Despite knowing that magic didn’t exist and perhaps not a single wish of yours had ever come true, you still couldn't help but believe you still had your last wish, and everytime the idea of finally making it crossed your mind, you stopped to tell yourself you could still wait another year, just to be sure. 

That morning you saw Yoongi leaned over his car, adjusting his cap as he saw you walking over to him and you thought about your saved wish for the first time this year. And then again when he grabbed your hand to drag you out of the room, or when he waited for you at the bottom of the stairs before leaving the house, but you wouldn’t admit it, not even to yourself. 

He dragged you all across your grandmother’s hometown as if you didn’t know it like the palm of your hand, as if the streets weren’t filled with kids running and whole families doing last-minute gift shopping, but he didn’t seem to care, so for once, you didn’t let it annoy you either. You observed the happy families and the kids playing in the snow, and sat in the park for as long as the cold weather allowed.

It was like you entered a trance, you tried to fight the urge to snap out of the moment and talked and talked the whole afternoon about everything and nothing at the same time, Yoongi listened and laughed while playing with the ends of your hair, pushing you closer to the edge of illusion. If you weren’t so adamant to stay in that blurry haze, you would’ve done something to stop him, you would’ve push his hand away when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, you would’ve hated how easy it was for him to play dumb, how natural it was to touch you without feeling something was wrong. You ignored it instead, you ignored him and his wandering hands and the fact that he didn’t dare to mention the moment you shared in the closet, nor the way your noses brushed together, or how his fingers hugged your waist as if you weren’t just friends. Even if you would’ve died for him to say a word about it, to tease you, to attempt to make fun of you just to know that what happened was real and not something you dreamt last night.

If you were really dreaming, you held on to your sleep for a while. When Yoongi found that secondhand bookstore five blocks away from the park, he grabbed your hand when you ran across the street before the traffic lights turned green and stayed inside wandering the aisles with him, you let him lean over to whisper jokes in your ear and you punched his arms when he made you laugh a little bit too loud. You tried to keep your voices low and made a list of books to read the following year. You didn’t buy any of them but you read the prologues and the author’s biographies like it was the most interesting thing in the world. You waited for Yoongi when he started to talk with an old man about a book he needed for college and, when he felt you drifting away, he hooked one of his fingers on the belt loop of your jeans and pulled you close to him again. You felt his hands on your waist, keeping you pressed against the side of your body while he pretended to be focused on the conversation, but he was focused on something else. His long fingers played with the waistband of your jeans as your chest felt tight and your breath felt heavier. Maybe you were beginning to go insane, maybe you had a fever and everything was just a product of your imagination, but a tiny voice inside your head quietly suggested that maybe this time you weren’t insane, maybe it was just him.

It was getting dark outside, and you were supposed to be home anytime soon, but he turned his head to you and whispered in your ear that you should save a seat at the coffee shop next door and wait for him while he paid for the book. Even if it was cold and snowing neither of you wanted to return home yet, so you agreed. You made your way to the cute little coffee shop adorned with Christmas lights and sat on a table to wait for him to arrive at the table, until you saw him entering the shop with a book wrapped in brown wrapping paper in his hands. 

You observed him approaching with your face on the palms of your hands, you watched his eyes scanning the place until they found you in some poor illuminated corner. He smiled, his eyes never left yours as he made his way to your table, and when he sat in front of you, he slid the book towards you. 

“This is for you.” He simply said, crossing his arms over his chest like it was no big deal. 

You frowned, confused. Did Yoongi get you some lawyer book? You didn’t know, you grabbed the wrapped book in your hands and scanned it as if you were able to see through the envelope. “The book you needed for college?”

“It’s not that.” He huffed. “It’s a present.” 

You tried to bite back a smile, but you failed. “Is this your way to tell me you forgot to buy me a Christmas present?” You joked, making him roll his eyes. 

“C’mon, you know me.” He said “I would never give you a Christmas present before Christmas, are you crazy?”

You laughed “So is this not a Christmas present?” You inquired, teasing him. 

“It is a Christmas present, but not the Christmas present that I got for you.” He tried to clarify, and it sounded confusing but you understood him anyway. 

You nodded, tearing the wrapping paper to reveal that Yoongi just bought you an Anne Sexton poetry book, the title “Love Poems” shinned in red on the cover, making you hold your breath for a second. 

You raised your gaze from the book to find his eyes, which were looking at you expectantly, the same way someone looked at the moon, yearning. The same way you were looking at him. 

“How did you know…?” The question died in your lips.

“I just know.” He cheekily said, and that was enough.

You know me, he said, and you felt your heart aching when you realized that Yoongi knew you too, and it was becoming impossible to escape from it.

You spent these past weeks trying to make it disappear, but there it was again, that strange feeling you felt in your chest, like something tugged from a string tied to your heart to try and steal it away. You were sure Yoongi thought he had his ways with you, that he was some kind of genius that knew exactly what to say and what to do to erase the frown from your face and make you laugh, but the truth was that he didn’t need to do much effort to win you over, the truth was that he already had you. He had you then, and he had you now and you weren’t sure if that was ever going to change, but today you didn’t care, you let him walk you home as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like that warm wouldn’t chill you to the bone when he left. 

You had successfully gone through dinner without having to answer questions about college, or your future, or anything about yourself at all, part of it was because your grandmother didn’t ask any questions to begin with. Maybe you were a bit jealous that she seemed more interested in Eva, your cousin, who was a biochemist and just got engaged, or Aidan, your other cousin, who was just admitted into college, or even Yoongi, who was about to graduate, however, you felt relieved that the attention was not focused on you. You were used to your family thinking that you were a thirteen year old teenager and not a twenty one year adult, the attention was never really on you, sometimes it bounced on you accidentally like a ball and, from time to time, you got to share a glimpse of information about your life, but most of the time your mother answered for you as if you were a kid in the hospital room, trying to include you in conversations and talking about your own projects, and that was enough for everyone. 

In the past, your mother had sat you down several times to explain that your grandmother was never an easy woman, she reassured you that her judgmental behavior was a reflection of herself, not of you. She always offered to let you stay at home if you wanted to, but you refused only for the rest of the family, you could stand being with your grandmother if that meant being with the rest of them. And you learnt to endure it all: your grandmother’s judging look, all the talking about your cousin’s achievements, their goals, projects, flawless record, and the fact that everyone seemed to be finding their paths except for you. You had to learn to pretend you were happy for them and not jealous, you took several breaths and moved on, and for a while you thought that after two decades of your life you had finally mastered the art in not giving a fuck about what your family thought about you, until today when you ran to hide in the closet so they wouldn’t find you. 

You had to work on that, you knew that, but at least for now the blatant disinterest for your life spared you from having to explain your life crisis, at least Yoongi was by your side, redirecting attention to him and the real question everyone wanted to ask but no one dared, a question that eclipsed any other topic of conversation: what was happening between the two of you? 

You looked at him next to you, charming as ever, talking with your uncle across the table. He decided to put on his glasses, his cheeks were pink and the sleeves of his blue sweater were rolled up to his elbows, his arm was casually resting on the top rail of your chair and every time he made a joke he looked at you to check if you were laughing. Every attempt he made to try to make you part of the conversation made your heart swell, but you were more than happy just observing him blending into your family as if he were part of it; you wanted to be as clueless as everyone on the table and believe that Yoongi could be sitting next year at this very same table to be there for you, for a moment you allowed yourself to dream of a reality where he saved you from every family gathering like he was doing tonight.

From the tip of your nose to the tip of your toes you felt warm, almost as if you had a fever. It was probably because you were still wearing your black sweater inside the house or because the memory of the book Yoongi gave you kept your cheeks burning red, or maybe because when dinner was over and your family lingered over the table for the longest time they could, you saw Yoongi tilting his head towards the stairs, meaning it was time to go to bed. 

There was a couple differences between this weekend and the night Yoongi slept with you after coming back from The Alley, that night you wouldn’t have ask him to stay over if you were sober, and he most likely wouldn’t have stay if he wasn’t high, tonight you had to share the room, but it was impossible for you not to be dramatic and always make big deals out of small things. Unlike you, Yoongi didn’t flinch when you told him you were going to sleep in the same room, you failed to remember that you were the one who had a decade-long crush on him and not the other way around.

Now the house was quiet and everyone was scattered around the floors, your cousins were in the living room with your uncle, your grandmother was already in bed, your mom was in the kitchen washing the dishes and Yoongi was upstairs, waiting for you. Before going with him, you changed into your pajamas and went to the kitchen to steal a few cookies that your mother cooked for tomorrow morning. You could wait a few hours more to eat the cookies, but you were desperately trying to look for an excuse to prolong the moment you entered the room you were sharing with the man upstairs. 

You entered the kitchen, making your mother turn around from the sink to take a quick look at you before coming back to the dishes. “Are you already going to sleep?” She asked, a curious tone on her voice. 

“Yeah, but I wanted to grab a few cookies first, is that okay?” You inquired, already opening the cabinet above her head to grab a big plate.

“Just a few, remember they’re for everyone.” She warned, and you hummed in response, knowing that you were going to grab more than just a few. 

The room fell silent for a moment, you heard the water running and your dragging feet making their way to the cookies on the counter before she raised her voice again. “Are they for you and Yoongi?” 

You hummed again “Yes, just a few, I promise.” You said, grabbing what it seemed to be a whole batch of cookies to put on the plate. 

You tried to be quick, putting an extra cookie for the road between your teeth and turning around to escape from your mother before she could see you and scold you for stealing way too many cookies. Trying not to make any noise, as if that could make you invisible, you made your way towards the door to escape, but when you thought you were about to succeed, you heard the nickname your mom used for you from the corner of the room, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Wait, darling.” You heard her tone of voice, surprised that it wasn’t annoyed, but rather motherly. 

You turned around slowly with your guard up, as if in that way she wouldn’t notice the cookie between your teeth. You took it out of your mouth, hiding it behind your back.

“Yes?” You answered, remaining calm. You would not give yourself away when you already made this far. 

She closed the faucet, turning around to face you. Her eyes fell upon you, offering you an apologetic smile, which was weird, it was the kind of smile she gave you when she knew she was about to upset you. It wasn’t the kind of face someone who was about to scold you would make, she looked hesitant, almost worried. 

“I wanted to-... I mean, I wanted to ask you about something.” She said, stumbling with her own words. Her eyes were not focused on the plate on your hands, not even in your face completely, like she was trying to avoid your eyes. You felt a rush of nervousness running down your body and quickly dissipating, you didn’t know why. 

“About what?” You inquired, wiping the crumbs from your mouth. 

She sighed, playing with the towel in her hands to keep her hands busy. “I know you don’t want me to be all over your business, and I’m aware you are not a teenager anymore, but I can’t help worrying a little bit.” She explained, or at least she tried.

You frowned, more confused than ever. The conversation seemed to be taking a completely different path than you thought five seconds ago. 

“What do you mean, mom?” You said, taking a step forward, what did this have to do with the cookies?

Your mom pursed her lips, hesitating for a microsecond until the words finally came out of her mouth. “You are already a woman, darling, so I wanted to know if you are… cautious.” She pronounced, making emphasis on the last word and letting it sink in the air, but you still didn’t understand what she was talking about. 

“Cautious with what?” You must've looked like a total fool, asking once again what she meant, but your mother seemed to want you to understand without having to explain. 

She shifted in her place and you saw a flash of embarrassment in her eyes, but it quickly disappeared. “With Yoongi, I mean.” She said, making the name resonate in your ears “I know you’re both adults and you can do whatever you want, but I wanted to make sure that you are using protection.”

The realization fell upon you like a ton of bricks, each word she uttered felt like a different punch to your stomach. You opened your eyes widely, almost choking with your own spit.  “What? No, mom-” You wanted to interrupt her, but she was quick to talk over you. 

“I just want to make sure!” She said like she was apologizing “I don’t mean to be invasive, but it’s important to me that you’re being safe.”

You winced, feeling your face burning as you began stuttering “Me and Yoongi…-We are not, I mean-”

“Honey,” She stopped you, looking at you like she was a sex education teacher trying to explain why you should use protection. “I was not born yesterday, I see things happening, and believe me, I have no problem with you sharing a room, but I can’t help but ask.”

You were left completely speechless, and her constant interruptions while you were trying to finish a sentence were not helping. You racked your brain to find a logical explanation, but you were incapable of forming a decent sentence when she was looking at you like she was a doctor. The fact that your mother thought that you and Yoongi were having sex made your stomach squirm, and how she stated that it was obvious left your head spinning. Did she see you today in that closet and immediately assumed you were… fucking? God, that sounded so bad, so incredibly embarrassing. You still felt yourself blushing when you thought about that moment, you couldn’t even fathom the idea of seeing him without a shirt, less alone having sex with him.

“Mom, please. You don’t have to worry, really.” You tried to explain, but that was not enough to leave your mother content, by the look on her face you knew she didn’t believe you one bit. 

“I know I don’t have to worry!” She defended herself “Yoongi is a great boy, and I trust you… But you know, if things get a bit too frisky...” 

You closed your eyes shut, trying not to picture that in your mind, “God, mom, don’t use that word!” 

“Sorry! I mean… You know what I mean! I hope you’re using protection, no matter the circumstances.” 

You took a deep breath, ninety percent sure you were about to die of embarrassment, but with your last breath you made sure to be clear with your mom so tonight she would sleep peacefully “Believe me, mom. You don’t have to worry, nothing happened between Yoongi and me, I mean it.”

You could see it in her eyes, she was not convinced, and she was right to be so. That was a lie, and she knew it. What happened today was not “nothing”, and your mother knowing that only made your cheeks burn.

“Fine.” She said, struggling to let the conversation go “But if something does happen… Be safe, okay?”

You nodded repeatedly, trying to end the conversation as soon as possible. “Yes, of course.” You promised, but the idea of that ever happening sent a chill down your spine, you tried to shake that thought as far away as you possibly could. 

Your mom smiled and you took it as your cue to go. You tried to walk away, but before you reached the door, she spoke again. 

“And darling?” She said, making you turn around to see her. “I know you don’t like coming here without your brother, so thank you for coming anyway.”

“It’s fine, mom.” You said, and it was true. “At least Yoongi made up for it.”

She smirked, suppressing a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure.”

You rolled your eyes, in disbelief. “Yup, I’m going now, goodnight!” You said, finally escaping from the conversation. You heard your mom’s laugh in the distance as you closed the door behind you to run upstairs. 

Present

When you visited Simon’s apartment for the first time you could clearly notice it was a boy’s apartment from the lack of decoration, the lack of food in the fridge and the amount of boxes still unpacked weeks after moving in, but after you entered through the door tonight you saw a completely different version of it. It was a part of him that you missed out when you were gone, now there were plants on the living room and traces of Florence all over the place, like her purple slippers on the door and the purple toothbrush on the bathroom, her scrunchies on the entryway table and the framed picture of her beside them. You found it endearing, it was like a secret world made just for the two of them, a proper home. 

“When is Florence coming back?” You asked, leaving your bag on the couch. 

Simon took off his shoes, wandering through his house as he turned all the lights on “On Monday.” He replied.

You made a mental note to leave on Monday, even if Simon repeated a thousand times that it was okay for you to stay there on the way here, you didn’t want to intrude in his life. Instead you decided it would be easier to intrude in Minnie’s life, who’s apartment was big enough for the two of you, the only person she shared her apartment with was not an actual person, it was just her orange cat. 

 “I was supposed to go with her.” Your brother kept talking “But me and Yoongi are behind on some work and I had to stay… Well, I’m the one who’s behind, really. Yoongi is just helping me.”

You did not forget that Simon and Yoongi worked together at the same law firm downtown ever since they graduated. You knew that Yoongi got the job as soon as he graduated and then he was followed by your brother, after years it was still impossible to keep them apart, which had become a problem for you. 

You nodded but didn’t say anything about it, you reasoned that Yoongi was still working before arriving at your house, that explained the clothes, the shoes and the messy hair. You sighed just by thinking about it, at least dinner was over, at least your first encounter with Yoongi after four years wasn’t the worst thing that happened tonight. 

It was impossible, but you tried not to think about it too much. Yoongi’s presence was some kind of collateral effect that came with your life, it was too late to detach him from it, but you still tried to run away from it for years and years, only to come back and still find him here, talking to you like nothing ever happened, like you were still friends. 

Yoongi and you were always on different stages of your life, on different places, on different paths, but you seemed to agree on one thing: keep everything secret, no one needed to know what happened between the two of you, that was why Simon was always talking about Yoongi when you called him, that was why he couldn’t stop talking about it him now, he didn’t realize that you didn’t want to know anything about his best friend, you could never told him why.

You followed your brother to his guest room as he talked and talked about how smart Yoongi was and how he was capable of taking so many different cases and not dying in the process, how nice it was to work with his best friend and blablabla. You swore that if you heard the name one more time you would explode, so you decided to drastically change the subject of the conversation, you were willing to say anything to take his name out of your brother’s mouth. It took a second, but when the room fell silent, you looked at your feet, a bit unsure, gathering enough courage to finally say what you’ve been meaning to tell him since you arrived home.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about the proposal.” You softly spoke, and Simon, who was looking for a blanket in the closet in the corner of the room, turned his head to look at you. “I wanted to tell you in person, but I wasn’t planning for that article to come out, I didn’t want the whole world to know.”

Simon left the blanket on the bed, turning his body to look at you more clearly. “Mom told me that you think Ian leaked the news” He mentioned, and you nodded, at the risk of looking crazy. 

“Sally suggested it.” You confirmed, sitting on the bed “And if he didn’t, he’s fine with it anyway. He doesn’t care if people see me as this bitch who broke his heart, I might as well be.” 

He looked at the wall behind you, confused. “I think I missed a chapter here.” He said, sitting on the edge of the bed “Maybe more than one. Weren’t you in love with him?”

You wanted to grab a pillow, bury your face on it and scream as loud as you could, but for the sake of looking like a sane person you contained yourself. “I thought I was.” You said sincerely. you believed there was a time when you were sure you were in love with Ian, there were moments you thought that the good things about him could outweigh the bad things, but deep down you knew that if you were really in love you wouldn’t have to do all that math, you wouldn’t have to fight to ignore his arrogance and his big ego. 

“And when did you realize that you weren’t?” He continued to ask “Or when did you realize he was a jerk?”

You scoffed, bitterly. “I guess I always knew both, I tried to make it work regardless. I enjoyed being with him for some time, but then he planned an engagement party full of people I didn’t even know. He didn’t care to call any of you and expected me to say yes… Does that say more about him or me?”

He kept quiet, not knowing what to say, but you already knew the answer. 

“Ian was an asshole, kid. He was jealous of you, of your family, of your job, none of us understood why you were with him.” 

“That was not what I asked.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Ian was a prick, I get it, but I wasn’t much better either.”

“You can’t make me think you deserve each other, are you kidding?” He said. 

“I can’t blame him for everything, I made my own bed.” You huffed “I was terrible and it took me almost four years to snap out of it, that was not his fault.” 

“You are right, but you’re here now, aren’t you?” He reminded you, calmly. “Isn’t that what’s important?” 

You began to become exasperated “C’mon, Simon, don’t try to be nice, you’re supposed to be mad at me.” 

“I am mad at you.” He corrected you, sending a chill down your spine “You’re working all the time, you never call, never text back, we barely see you and the only way to know about your life is when we read some article saying you broke up with your boyfriend because he proposed to you, are you kidding? Of course I am mad, but because I miss you.”

You felt a wave of regret hitting all your senses, suddenly your eyes were burning with tears and you are not supposed to cry, you knew that, but the single tear that slid down your cheek was quicker than any thought that could cross your mind. Somehow, you wished your family hadn't noticed how absent you'd been these past few years, that they just shrugged and said “that’s just her” and forgot about it, it was not necessary to look at Simon’s face to know that he couldn’t just forget about it. He loved you, your mother loved you too, you didn’t have a family that you would want to run away from, but you did it anyway,

“I’m sorry…” You murmured, looking at him with eyes full of regret. “It wasn’t you, it wasn’t any of you, it was me. I was so angry when I left, I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You wouldn’t trade your career for anything, it was one of those few things that made you happy, but after years of trying to convince yourself that every decision you made for the last few years was the right choice, this was the first time that you admitted that maybe you weren’t thinking clearly when you decided to move to the city and never look back. 

Simon frowned, thinking about it twice before asking “Were you angry, bug?”

You tilted your head, giving him a sad smile, hoping that it could explain everything.”I was quite angry, yes.” You answered “Not at you, though.” 

“At mom?” 

“Maybe a little bit at mom, yeah.” You laughed, shaking your head. You sighed deeply, letting the silence sit in the room for a moment before you could put in order all the things you wanted to say. “I remember when I told her I left college she looked at me like I finally lost my mind, it was like she saw it coming, you know? Me, again, being lost, it was not a surprise, but rather something she would expect of me. I know she was just worried and I know I can be a lot sometimes, but it hurt anyway. I don't blame anyone, Simon, but all I needed was someone to believe in me and no one did. I had to leave.” Something ached inside your chest because that was not the whole truth, but it was all you could say tonight, you couldn’t say that Yoongi was also one of the reasons. “I’m not trying to justify myself.” You mumbled “I’m just saying that I was so angry that I didn’t realize how many mistakes I made.” 

The silence that took over the room was so strong it made your stomach squirm. You shifted in your place, but Simon stayed there, with his gaze lost somewhere in the room as he processed what you just said. 

“I always believed in you, you know that?” He spoke, causing your head to snap up towards him. “I know a lot of people tried to tell you that you weren’t, but you’ve always been special and I’ve always seen it.” 

“I know you did.” You sighed. “But I was being so stubborn, I walked away and I’m so sorry.”

“I know you think you’re too much, but you’re not.” He continued talking “Maybe mom just wanted everything to be simple, for her kids to go to college, graduate, get a job and a home and never have to worry about whether they are choosing right or wrong ever again. But you’re not simple, bug, you’re extraordinary and talented and too brilliant to stay still, but you’re not too much, not for me.” 

You held back a sob, feeling ridiculous. “I’m sorry.” You said, once again, because you haven’t said it enough times.

“It’s okay now, I mean it.” Simon reached for your hand to squeeze it tightly. 

You sniffed “God, I should be comforting you for being a bad sister, not the other way around” 

“I don’t need to be comforted, I’m okay as long as you’re here.” He tried to cheer you up. “And you were not a bad sister, you were sad and acted shitty.” 

You smiled, because you told Simon that you were angry but instead he heard that you were sad, you didn’t feel like correcting him because he wasn’t so wrong about that. 

“I’m sorry.” You repeated once again like a scratched record, making him laugh. “Are you still mad at me?”

“No.” he replied, “But only if you promise not to disappear again.” 

You raised your hand, extending your pinky finger in front of his face. “I promise you, Simon, I will not disappear again.”

Simon tangled his pinky with yours, making your promise impossible to be broken, and your soul felt at ease for a moment.

“Fine, good enough for me.” he said, throwing himself back onto the bed. “Now I want to hear everything about the proposal, and I want you to describe to me exactly the face he made when you said no.”

You laughed, throwing yourself on the bed the same way he did and tried to summarize the last three years in just one night. Only for today, your body did you a favor and your head stopped spinning at least for now. Something began to feel right.

Four years ago

Seven days before New Year’s Eve

You could hear the radio at the end of the hallway in your grandmother’s room, softly playing jazz to cancel out the outside noise. Not everyone in the house liked the radio, your cousins always said that it was annoying and kept them awake, but it was still one of those old habits of your grandfather that remained in the house even if he was no longer here, so you liked it. The music inevitably seeped under the door of your room, Yoongi hummed some Frank Sinatra song as if he knew the lyrics to it, making you laugh and beg him to stop. 

You know it’s almost midnight, as your roommate just informed you, but you didn’t want to turn the lights off yet. All of the cookies already disappeared from the plate, Yoongi was laying on his side the same way you were and the lamp on the nightstand warmly lighted up his brown eyes, you couldn’t help but feel you were not supposed to be in such presence, his messy hair and the loose white shirt he wore to sleep, his sleepy eyes, his pink lips; it looked just like the kind of view that was bound to haunt you forever. 

The nightstand that separated you was not far enough to stop that pull from the string in your chest, not when he was looking at you like that, his gaze fixated on yours like he didn’t want to leave you awake alone, and neither did you. You felt yourself shaking because, what was the version of you that existed when you were asleep? And what happened inside his head when you were not there? What was happening inside his head right now?

Did you cross his mind the same way he crossed yours? When you finally fell asleep, would he remember that moment in the closet or would it be just water under the bridge? Did he spend every waking second of the last seven hours thinking of that fleeting moment when you could almost feel his lips on yours?

Or was that just you?

The night was fading away, your eyelids were getting heavy but you still couldn’t find the will to sleep. 

“I’m sorry for today.” You almost whispered, gathering enough courage to mention the little accident “I’m sorry for dragging you with me to the closet.”  

He smiled softly, closing his eyes for a second. “It’s okay, it was cozy.” He teased you, making you groan in annoyance. He laughed loudly at your reaction, annoying you even more. “I’m serious, it was okay.” 

“Was it really?” You asked him “Wasn’t I being silly?”

“It's okay being silly sometimes.” He assured you, but that did not ease that anxious feeling in your stomach. He seemed to see it in your face. “What’s wrong with being a little silly? I would’ve run from your grandmother, too.” 

You bitterly laughed, covering your face with the palms of your hands “Stop, I’m being immature.” You groaned “I’ve got to get my shit together.”

“C’mon Pinky, you have to stop with that.” He said. 

“I would if I could.” You remarked.

“Didn’t you say you were going to get your shit together after the holidays?” He reminded you “Why are you worrying right now?”

Yoongi was right, that was the initial plan, but ever since you came back home everything was pointing in different directions and it was beginning to drive you crazy, it was like the universe was forcing you to think about it, it was not letting you run away from it, not even temporarily. First, it was Yoongi, showing up every few days at your doorstep, grabbing your hand, squeezing your legs, whispering things in your ear like he wanted you to go insane, it was Minnie, offering you a job, talking about The Alley, saying you were supposed to be on the big screen, and then it was your mother, expecting you to make up your mind once for all. And still, you had your whole life ahead, why were you worrying right now?

“I don’t know…” You sighed “What if I come back next year and the plan was not good enough? What if I end up hiding again from everyone?”

Yoongi shifted in bed, curious “Do you have a plan, Pinky?” The nickname rolled off his tongue softly, you swimmed in the tenderness of his voice, something about it made you want to tell him everything.

“Not really, I mean… It all sounds so bad.” 

“You have a plan.” He affirmed, smiling “I want to hear it.”

“It’s not a plan.” You contradicted yourself “If it were a plan, it would suck.”

Yoongi hummed “It’s something like a plan, then.”

You scrunched your nose, unsure. “Yeah, but not quite like a plan, something like a…” You said, but the words died on your lips before you got the chance to finish. 

“Something like a dream, then?” He continued to ask, but you shook your head.

“Something close.” You expressed, unable to find the right words to explain your thoughts. You stayed silent for a second, believing he was beginning to lose interest in the topic, until the words slipped past his lips like a spell.

“Something like a wish.” He pronounced, and he was not asking, it was almost like he knew. 

You thought there was not much difference between a dream and a wish, but in this case, there was. 

You smiled at him, nodding, somehow you felt you could trust him with all your secrets “Yes, like a wish.” You affirmed, and it felt like a confession. “I don’t know Yoongi, have you ever stayed up late and planned something but when you woke up next morning you felt it was stupid? Well, I do that every night.”

“I’m sure that whatever it is, it’s not stupid.” He said, making your heart swell.  

“I would like to believe you…” You murmured “Do you have a dream, Yoongi? Something you’re too scared to wish for?”

You could see him think about it for a moment, but his eyes were still connected with yours. Oh, how you wished to be inside his mind right now, read his thoughts, witness his dreams, know all his secrets.

“Yes.” He confirmed, “But I can’t talk about them out loud right now.” 

You laughed, biting your bottom lip. “Okay, fair. What about those you can say out loud?”

“I’m not going to tell you because you’re going to laugh.” He pouted, making you frown. 

“Laugh?” You repeated, sounding more offended than you actually were. “I would never, c’mon.”

He raised an eyebrow, testing you “You sure?”

“Of course, don’t piss me off.” 

“Fine, fine.” He let out a long sigh, believing you. “My wish would be… to stop time for a while. Sometimes I believe I can’t think when time’s running, all I do is study and come home to my mom, there is very little time that I have for myself.”  

You felt your chest tighten, but it didn't surprise you that Yoongi felt this way. He already mentioned to you that, even if taking care of his mother didn’t feel like a burden, he still felt he was missing out on so many things. 

“And what would you do if time stopped right now?” 

Yoongi shifted his eyes for a moment, and you almost missed it but you saw it, the urge to hold back and the words getting stuck on his throat. 

“Mmm…” He hummed, “I’ll go to the beach.”

“In winter?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t care.”

“And where else?” You continued to ask.

“Honestly? I’ll go anywhere but home.” He confessed.

“What’s wrong with home?” You of all people knew exactly what was wrong with home, but you wanted to hear why he thought that. 

“Home it’s okay,” He waved off. “It just feels like I spent my whole life there. I went to college expecting something to change, and a lot of things did but I still feel like something else is supposed to happen, like there's something else for me to see.” 

It was looking in a mirror, it was the same thing you’ve told him a few days ago but in other words, in another tone. Yoongi sounded resigned, like his wish was clearly something that was not meant to happen and he needed to come to terms with it, nothing could ever make you more sad. 

“There’s plenty for you to see, Yoongi, are you kidding?” You chuckled  “You’re twenty five, you’re barely grasping life.” 

He scoffed, bitterly, “It’s not that easy.” 

“Of course it is easy, do you know it’s not necessary to stop time to go to the beach?” 

“I know, Pinky.” He agreed, “But what does it feel like running away?” 

“Running away would be so bad?” You asked, hearing the question echoing in the room, letting you know that maybe it was something you weren’t supposed to wonder out loud. Yoongi didn’t dare to ask such a question, but you seemed determined to make his wish come true, maybe you were the only one who could do it. 

“Don’t ask me.” He said, looking at the ceiling to avoid your gaze.  “Don’t act like running away isn’t your wish as well” 

You snorted, immediately grabbing a pillow and threatening to punch him in the face with it, but Yoongi is quick to cover his face with his arms.

“Don’t!” He protested, laughing.

 “Don’t expose me like that!” You whined, embarrassed. 

“What, am I wrong?” 

“Maybe you’re not…” You dared to answer, leaving the pillow on the bed again “But how do you know?”

“I told you, Pinky.” He murmured “I just know.”

You shook your head in denial, how could it be? Were you really that transparent or Yoongi really just knew? 

“What else do you know?” You continued to ask, curious. 

He pretended to think about it, pouting his lips and looking at the ceiling as if the answers were to fall from the sky. His eyes shifted towards yours, tilting his head “I know that you would run away to the beach with me if I asked you to.” 

A giggle was built in your throat, you laughed nervously as you tried to decipher if he was joking or not, even if Yoongi could see right through you, it was a bit difficult for you to do the same with him. 

“I don’t know about that.” You said, ignoring the way your heart was beating against your ribcage. “Do you mean in… an hypothetical scenario?” 

“It’s a hypothetical proposal.” He answered.

“I’ll have to check my schedule first.” 

A smirk tugged from the corner of his lips. “What about… two weeks away from now?”

You did the calculation in your head, but you already knew that by then Yoongi would have to go back to class, so you doubted. “What about the semester?” You asked, trying to be the voice of reason. “Your last semester, might I add.”

“That could wait.” He did not hesitate “Isn’t it part of running away? Leaving things behind?”

You laughed “And what would people say about me, then? That I made you leave college, nuh-hu.” 

“Here we go again with that.” He rolled his eyes “I don’t care what people say and, besides, I’m not leaving college, I’m… postponing it.” 

That didn’t sound like the Yoongi you knew at all, but then again, this whole conversation didn’t sound like anything Yoongi from the past would say. A thousand questions crossed your mind, like what do you do on the beach in winter? Wouldn’t being alone be a problem? What are you going to talk about, where are you going to stay? If you say yes, would he grab your hand when you crossed the street, would he try to kiss you again? 

You crossed your arms, thinking about it, not daring to agree right away, but how could you say no? When he was looking at you, convinced that you would say yes. 

You opened your mouth, not sure what you were going to say but still ready to answer, and before you could utter a word, he interrupted you. “Run away with me to the beach, Pinky.” He asked in a soft tone, looking at you with warm eyes and warm words, making your heart shake violently in your chest “Only for now, I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

You smiled, ignoring that little person inside you that tried to warn you about something, but you weren’t sure about what because all you could feel was your heart racing. “Fine, I’ll follow you for now.” You simply said, trying to sound as cool as possible “Let’s run.” 

In that moment you forgot about years and years of disappointment and failed dreams, failed wishes, you ignored the reality, deciding everything was false and true at the same time. You didn’t need to look at the clock to know that it was midnight, something inside your chest sparkled and told you it was time to make your wish, and for some reason, you listened. It echoed in every corner of your mind, your wish was the beach in winter. 

Four days before New Year’s Eve

Two weeks ago, when you bought Yoongi’s Christmas gift, you thought about it like a farewell. You stood in the shop and talked to the tall man with the long face and chose the gift as you tried to convince yourself this was a way of saying goodbye to him. 

That Christmas morning Yoongi tore the brown wrapping paper and opened the long box to find that you decided to give him a red tie. It wasn’t bright red, it was deep dark red, red like a rose. It came with a notebook and a pen with his initials on them. In your mind, you were giving away that version of him that lived in your head and clung to your thoughts and clung to your heart, that version of him you could never let go. Yoongi was about to graduate, he was about to become officially a lawyer, an adult, a man, he wasn’t that boy you fell in love with years ago, he was a wish you had to let in the past and your gift was just a way to remind you of it. You had a purpose, a plan, you had everything figured out until he decided to ask you to run away with him, until you said yes.

His gifts for you were a vinyl copy of Is This It by The Strokes, two tickets to watch When Harry Met Sally at the Alley the following week and a pair of red gloves for the rest of the winter. 

Yoongi looked at you and smiled like you both knew something everyone else in the room didn’t. “The gloves match with the tie.” He had said.

So now you had no plan, what you did have though, was a bunch of pictures of several locations Yoongi thought of booking for your trip to the beach. You were doomed. 

You thought the only person in this town who could possibly understand what you were going through was Minnie, the only person in the world who knew about your feelings for Yoongi, and the only person who you could call a friend at the moment. 

You weren’t expecting to see Minnie again when you saw her at The Alley a few weeks ago, but she had different plans; it was like she forced you to be her friend again. You tried to stop thinking you didn’t deserve it, you had to swallow your guilt and accept her friendship, and after a few five hour calls filled with gossip, you ultimately decided not to be against it, even if she called you everyday and still talked nonstop about that audition in the city, talking with her felt like you were still fifteen, and you liked it.

That night, as she raided her closet looking for a dress for you to wear at the New Year’s party at The Alley, you sat on her bed and gave her a run down of everything that happened with Yoongi since you came back home, it didn’t take her much to get you to admit that you were still in love with your brother’s best friend, so you might as well be honest and tell her everything. 

“You’re being stupid right now, sweetheart.” You heard her muffled voice from inside her closet. The next thing you saw was a piece of fabric flying in the air and landing at your feet. You grabbed it, putting in front of you to reveal a short pink dress that you would never, ever wear. 

You snorted, leaving the dress on the pile of clothes that you already rejected. You seemed to forget that Minnie was not the most adequate person to talk about “boy stuff”, perhaps because she was way too honest. You didn’t know whether it was a mistake or not to tell her about the trip to the beach, because all the questions she was asking and all the things she was stating to be true were thoughts you were desperately trying to avoid. 

“He wants to fuck you, I don’t know how else to tell you this.” She said, walking over the clothes to make her way to you. You threw yourself on the bed, covering your face with your palms “I mean, I wish I could only tell you that he’s head over heels for you, and honey, that he is, but he also wants to fuck you.”

You groaned, kicking your feet. “God, you make me want to throw up.”

“Of excitement, I’m assuming.” She affirmed “I’m telling you, there’s no way you’re going on a trip alone and come back without having fucked.”

You looked at her, begging her to stop talking, but she was not finished. “Stop!”

“Picture this.” She ignored you, forming a rectangle with her fingers and looking right through it as if she was directing a scene from a movie “First scenario, a storm causes the power to go out, there’s no electricity, you have no way to be warm so you sleep in the same bed to warm up, there’s tension, you look at each other and kiss, you fuck.”

“Okay, I don’t see that happening.” You shook your head. 

“Second scenario, you just finished showering, you go out of the bathroom wearing only a towel because you think he’s not there, but he is! He sees you, you kiss, you fuck.”

“That’s not… That sounds like porn.” 

“Third scenario!” She exclaimed. 

“Fine, that’s enough.” You stopped her, waving your arms in the air. 

“No, you have to prepare! And when it happens you will know that I was right.” Your friend insisted, but you refused to let any of those ideas in your mind. 

“What if you’re not?” You wondered “What if he just wants to be my friend and I’m just imagining everything?”

“But you are not, are you kidding?” She laughed “That man is clearly in love with you, why are you convincing yourself otherwise?”

You felt Minnie’s body sitting right next to you, causing you to sit back on the bed to look at her face to face. You were sure you were about to start crying out of frustration. “I don’t know, what if I get hurt?”

Minnie pursed her lips “Baby, I can’t answer that question at all, but you have to take the chance.” 

You groaned, annoyed. “I don’t want to take the chance.” You whined “I was fine before seeing him again, I wasn’t even thinking of him.”

“That is a lie,” She laughed, mocking you. “We both know you never stopped being in love with him, now you have him in the palm of your hand, do something.” 

Minnie stood up again, looking for another piece of clothing on the floor as you kept silent, wondering if any of that could be possible. Did you really have him in the palm of your hand? Was he in love with you and you were being stupid for believing that he wanted to be just friends?

“What should I do?” You asked her, hoping that the redhead in the room knew all the secrets of the universe. 

“Invite him to the New Year’s party and wear a hot outfit, how about that?” Minnie offered, like that could answer all your prayers. 

“Would that resolve all my problems?” You joked, talking to the sky. 

“C’mon, he literally asked you to run away with him, don’t you find that a little bit hot? Don’t you really think that was not code for ‘I want to fuck you’?” 

You laughed “Yoongi is not like that!” You protested. 

“I hate to break it to you, but you are hot.” She insisted, throwing another piece of clothing at your face. “And if Yoongi is not blind, he knows that, and let’s not forget the most important fact here.” 

“Which is…?”

“He’s in love with you, let’s start wrapping our heads around that.” She simply said “Once that’s done, you invite him to the New Year’s eve party at The Alley, you wear a hot outfit and confront him about it, tell him to stop playing around.”

You grabbed the dress Minnie just threw at you, which was another short dress, but this one was actually cute. It was black and was covered in black sparkly sequins with thin straps, you were definitely going to freeze to death if you wore that, but you were sure this fitted the description of “hot outfit”. 

Minnie was right, you couldn’t keep running away from the facts, everything was laid on the table, you didn’t need more proof to know that Yoongi felt something for you, even if you weren’t sure if it was the same that you felt for him, you needed to gather enough courage to find out what it was. 

You grabbed the phone in your pocket and opened Yoongi’s chat, you decided to invite him to the New Year’s party. 

taglist: @kingofbodyrolls @overtherainbow35 @namin13 @p34rluv @moonchild1 @yoongisoftface @namgihours @idkjustlovingbts @yoongisducky @bangtansmauyeondan @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @heroinanne @mortal-body-timelesssoul @hiii-priestess @wii-wii @jungkookies1002 @busanbby-jjk @acquiescence804 @yoongibaybee @hsbongwater

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty four

authors note: this one gets pretty heavy. the next two chapters will also be heavy at points. please heed to cw/tw's.

cw/tw: fluff, angst, brief discussion of childhood sexual assault and child abuse, scene of violence against women

*this author does not condone nor support intimate partner/domestic violence.*

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 12k

“Roman…” His name leaving her mouth is the perfect combination of breathy and whiny. “We–re gonna be late.”

For the first time in what feels like an hour, Roman lifts his head from her neck. She hates how noticeable the absence of his mouth is. “You really think I care about that?”

No. She knows he doesn’t care. But, she also dislikes being the reason for them being late. Because she's certain he has plans afterwards, and it doesn’t sit well with her knowing that she could play any type of role in any inconvenience he may encounter.

Her eyes shut as he brings his mouth back to her neck, sucking the spot that he’s clearly realized she has the most visceral response to. Toes curling, clawing at his shoulders and arms, it’s hard to tell who’s enjoying this more. Him or her.

Still, she manages to protest. “But, I—I care.”

Big hands traveling her body, she sighs quietly when he cups the swell of her breast giving her a gentle squeeze that has her thighs unintentionally gripping his waist. “You should have thought about that before you put this damn outfit on….”

Said outfit isn’t anything crazy, nothing fancy, just a cropped, sleeveless hoodie and dark yoga pants. However, it's the stretchy material that clings to clearly every part of her that he seemingly finds irresistible. Namely her ass and chest. Still, it's the typical type of outfit she would wear to train, which is exactly where they should be headed to right now. Though it seems her husband has another much more carnal destination in mind.

Blush growing, she tries again. “Roman, I—I’m serious.” His tongue circling across her inflamed skin as she groans against him. “You’re gonna l–leave another mark.”

“Good.” His response doesn’t entirely surprise her. Neither does the explanation. “You’re mine, and everyone needs to fucking know that shit.”

Mine

There’s something about that, something about his delivery, so strong and borderline aggressive that makes her insides melt a tad. Makes her smile grow. A good bit, she’s certain, stemming from the fact that it still blows her mind sometimes that a man like Roman Reigns could want her. Does want her. Even with all her….baggage.

He wants her.

Loves her.

For some reason, this makes it a bit easier to slide into that space of comfort and indifference he has regarding time and obligation. Makes her arch her chest into him as he stays true and firm to his determination in leaving her with his mark. 

Though she’s not sure just what about this current situation makes her decide to bring this up now, it’s something she knows she really shouldn't push off anymore.

“R–Ro?”

He makes a sound against her. “Yes?”

“I—I need a favor.”

He sighs against her, lifting his head from her neck to match her nervous gaze. “Solana, doing things for you is never a favor.” He brings his hand to her chin, thumb caressing her skin. “It’s my job as your husband.”

His response, thus far, chips away some of the anxiety. Some. “But, this—this is kinda big.”

Eyes narrowing slightly, he asks, “how big?”

It feels kind of silly, Solana briefly dropping her gaze to his black shirt that’s stretched against his broad chest. “I—I need money.”

Roman just looks at her for a second, a huge smile breaking out on his face. “You need money?” 

She nods. Slowly. “It’s—it’s a lot of money though.”

“I think we have different definitions of what a lot is, but go on.”

He’s probably not wrong, but that doesn’t negate the fact that the proposed amount of money probably needed is substantial compared to the average loan. Solana sits up fully, forcing Roman to also stand upright. He tugs her to the edge, her hands on his chest. “It’s…..it’s for Dr. Stratus.”

At that, she’s clearly lost him. “You need money for your psychiatrist?”

“Not—not like that.” Solana closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as she tries to gather her thoughts. “The girls were telling me they overheard that Dr. Stratus couldn’t secure an investor to keep the facility going and may have to shut down.”

He remains confused. “Okay…..”

“Roman, I don’t want that to happen.” She closes her eyes, thinking back to some of the information Gail has provided her as well as readings from her book. “Did you—did you know that 1 out of every 6 American women has either been raped or survived of an attempted rape?” Closing her eyes, she murmurs, “I was one of the ones.” Taking another breath, she notices his expression is darker. “But there are a lot more ones out there, Roman, and they need help just like I did. Dr. Stratus has a really great thing going, and I don’t—I don’t want to see it go away. I want—”

“Okay.”

She frowns. “Okay?”

“I’ll do it.”

Her stomach flutters. “Really?” She’s not sure what she was expecting, but for some reason, him so easily agreeing seems almost too good to be true.

Roman shrugs, pushing back some of her hair. “It’s important to you, and it clearly is, so I’ll do it.” That’s it. Nothing else. Just acquiescence.

“But, you don’t even know how much—”

“Doesn’t matter. You want it. I’ll make it happen.”

It’s overwhelming, really. Solana didn’t really think he would be upset with her request. She figured he’d want or need to think about it, which makes sense given it’s probably going to be in the six, maybe even seven figure range. But, that’s not the case. Instead, he’s just agreed without a second thought simply because she wants it.

Because it’s important to her.

Eyes watering, she throws her arms around him, hugging him. “Thank you.” It’s such a simple thing to say for such a big task. But, she also means it from the deepest part of her. For a man who doesn’t seem to think he’s a good person, she thinks the world of him. 

The same way she’s certain their child will. 

“While we’re on it, there’s something I need to talk to you about, too.”

And just like that, her smile is wiped, Solana pulling back and looking up. "Oh—okay.”

Something tells her she’s not going to like what she’s about to hear.

Roman’s intense eyes are focused on her, his index finger tracing along her jaw. “I have to go out of town next week.”

Yeah……definitely not something she wanted or expected to hear.

“Oh.” It’s all she knows how to say initially. Finally, more words arrive. A necessary question asked. “Where are you going?”

He hesitates. “Italy.”

Her eyes widen. That definitely isn’t what she expected him to say. Domestic travel was the guess, international never even being something that crossed her mind. “Italy?”

He nods, explaining on the edge of a heavy sigh. “I have some…..business to take care of with the Cosa Nostra.”

Solana is quiet, sitting on his words, partially hoping he’ll say more. Granted, it’s not a necessity as she’s able to piece the puzzle together herself. “That’s why your cousins were here that night…..isn’t it?” His silence is all the answer she needs. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“No.” Though his answer is immediate, there’s something about it that was too instantaneous. Like he blurted it out without even thinking about it. “Just…..something I need to handle.”

It’s a bit manipulative. She knows this, but it’s hard for her to have something like this sprung on her and not ask any follow up questions. “Can….can I come with you?”

Again, his response is something she already guessed before even fixing her mouth to ask. Another heavy sigh as he gently cups her cheek. “Not this time.”

“Because it’s dangerous.” And there’s the manipulation component. Solana has realized that will always be the dealbreaker for Roman when it comes to her. Safety. So, him saying no makes her concerned not for her wellbeing. 

But for his.

Anxiety growing, she asks, “are the twins going with you? You can’t go alone.”

“I won’t be alone.” That helps her feel a little better. Just a little. “But, they’re not coming. I need them here. Handling shit.” It’s hard for Solana to wonder if any part of what went down between Roman and Jey has impacted this decision for them to remain here while he travels abroad. 

Still, that’s another thought for another day. She has a much bigger issue at hand.

“So who—”

“Solana.” Roman’s voice silences the next set of anxiety riddled questions scheduled to leave her mouth. He lowers his volume, his tone softer than anything anyone outside of her would ever hear. “I’ll be fine.”

For some reason, that only cranks her anxiety up from a 6 to a solid 8. And it’s without much thought, she finds herself asking, “do you have to go?”

He truly looks apologetic. A visible thing that also matches the verbal. “I’ve been pushing it off. I can’t push it off anymore.”

She swallows, emotion thick and bubbling. “Because of me?”

“Because of a lot of things, Sol.” And to her surprise, there’s some semblance of emotion present in his voice as well. “The—the story with that side of my family is…..complicated.” As it seems are most things when it comes to his family. Either side, apparently. “Trust me, going there is the last thing I want, but it needs to be done.”

Solana hates this. For a lot of reasons. The biggest one, however, is because she just knows there’s something he’s not telling her. A key part he’s omitting, probably for fear of worrying her. Never mind the fact that she’s already an anxious mess thinking about him being so far away without at least the twins there to have his back. She’d bet this Dwayne and Matteo person will be present, but she doesn’t know them. Doesn’t trust them. Doesn’t trust them to have her husband’s back. 

Not like Jimmy and Jey.

Even with the altercation between Roman and the latter, she still believes in her heart of hearts they’d look out for each other.

Like brothers.

“How long will you be gone?” Because trying to convince him to stay or even allow her to accompany him is the equivalent of beating a dead horse. 

More hesitation. “A week. Maybe two.”

The duration truly could be worse, and it makes sense such a long trip wouldn’t warrant a short turnover, but that doesn’t make the idea of him being gone for that period of time any easier to stomach. 

When she says nothing, he brings his other hand to her hair, pushing a section behind her ear. “Nia will stay with you until I return.”

And the surprises just keep coming. “Nia?” She knows the list of people Roman would ask to do such a thing is pretty limited, nonexistent maybe, but Nia is the last of the last she’d have considered. “She—why would she agree to that?”

Nia’s behavior around and toward Solana has shifted moderately since their first meeting so many months ago. She’s still not the nicest, per se, but Solana has learned a large part of that is nothing personal. It’s just Nia. So, while she’s not against it, she does, however, not understand it. 

“I told you before, people do what I want them to do because no one wants to deal with the alternative. Nia is no different.” Forced. He’s forced her to do this. That’s all Solana took from that, the frown on her face deepening it. “She’ll really just be here to administer your meds and make sure you get to therapy.” 

And she figured as such, figured that would be the basis as to why he would ensure another person is present in his absence. Still, Solana can’t stop herself from trying to broach an option she’s almost certain he won’t want to hear.

“Ro, I don’t—I can take care of that mys—”

“No.” It’s so firm and final. Even his gaze has shifted into something almost hardened. “That’s not an option.”

She figured it wasn’t. She also wonders, however, if it ever will. It has to, at some point. Solana wants to also ask why it can’t be Bayley again, or even Naomi, but it’s most likely to earn her the same type of shutdown. 

If not worse.

Roman steps back, guiding her off the bathroom counter. Standing back on her own two feet, Solana is taken back for a second by the almost instant lightheaded feeling that comes over her. Or less lightheaded and more…..exhaustion.

“You alright?”

She looks up, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. I’m—I’m good.” That’s debatable, because Solana is all of a sudden feeling exhausted from literally doing nothing but making out with her husband. 

Roman, as expected, looks unconvinced. “You sure?” He goes into his spiel that she’s heard at least three times now. “You know you don’t have to jump right back into things. I still think you should take more time off—”

“No.” Her hand shifts to her stomach, Solana grateful this doesn’t seem to trigger something for him. “I—I want to fall back into my routines.” Even more, and most important, if she truly is pregnant, Solana doesn’t want to waste any time left she has to do so before being too far along to train.

But, he can’t have that explanation. Not yet.

And now she has to figure out just when said explanation can occur, because how does she tell her husband they’re expecting days before he’s set to go out of town for possibly two weeks?

Damn.

————

“You’re late.” It’s the first thing to come out of a smirking Bayley’s mouth as Solana walks in with Roman into the training area. ‘But, the outfit is cute.”

Solana smiles at that, a bit of a laugh leaving her considering Roman nearly had a heart attack at her outfit when she stepped out the bathroom. Hence why they’re late. Among…..other reasons. 

“I’m sorry. We got caught up with something.”

“Mmmhmm,” Naomi sounds with that knowing look. “I’m sure you did.”

Solana looks away, wanting and needing to hide her blush as Roman asks in an annoyed voice, “where is he?”

“Here.” The four of them redirect their attention to the sound of Jimmy and the other two men he’s with: Jey and Carmelo.

Naturally, Solana goes to observe the indirect interaction between Jey and Roman, searching for any sigh of contempt. It’s definitely there. She can see it in the way Roman’s shoulders tense and how Jey looks away, Solana noticing the faded bruises on his face as well as the bandage over a still healing cut.

Swallowing, Solana moves over to them. “Hey.” 

Jimmy pulls her into a side hug without needing initiation, but it’s not missed upon her how Jey seems to hesitate to hug her, the tension in his body as well as the way he almost awkward way he clears his throat and looks away. 

She tries not to make too much of it, but it’s hard not to.

Carmelo steps forward, giving a nod. “Ma’am.”

That makes her smile return. “I told you before, you can just call me Solana.”

“Ma’am is fine,” Roman’s deep voice cuts through, Solana not needing to turn around, hearing his heavy footsteps behind her. “You’re late.”

Carmelo swallows. “I’m sorry—”

“I don’t care,” Roman is instantly dismissive, focusing his attention on his wife as he goes into an unnecessary introduction. “Solana, this is—”

“I know,” she cuts him off with a gentle smile, explaining, “I met him at the party.”

At that, Romans’ thick eyebrows cave inward. “What?”

“He was there, Big Dog.”

‘“I–I was there, sir.”

Roman scowls, completely ignoring his cousin and the other irrelevant man. “He was?” He looks over at his wife, asking, “you invited him too?”

Solana nods. “I asked the twins to invite whoever it was you found to help me train, because I wanted to meet him beforehand,” she explains, turning to Carmelo again, “thank you again for—agreeing to help me.”

Carmelo opens his mouth, unsure just how to express that he didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. Or one at all. 

“He was there the whole time,” Naomi shares from where she stretches on one of the mats, Jimmy focused on her ass as she bends over. 

“You were too busy trying not to kill and cuss everybody out,” Bayley walks over, earning a hardened look from Roman that she pays no mind to. “Alright, so Solana is obviously a small human being, but she’s fast and hell and can maneuver quickly. That makes her hard to catch. Those are her strengths. She’s also pretty damn good with a knife.” Solana is a bit unsure how to feel about that part. “But, she’s only ever trained with women, hence why you’re here, Melo.”

“She also wants to learn how to do the spear.”

Roman’s statement earns a round of surprised expressions from everyone except Carmelo.

He looks terrified. “The—the spear?” He gestures with a crooked, slightly trembling index finger. “From—from you?”

“Who the fuck else?” Is Roman’s objectively rude reply, Solana having to stop herself from placing her hand on his forearm. He could try to be a little nicer. 

“You supposed to get a spear from him?” A new voice sounds, Solana not recognizing the man with a deep complexion, multiple piercings and an….interesting hairstyle. He shakes his head. “You gon die!”

Solana’s mouth drops as Bayley and Naomi laugh aloud. Jimmy is the one to ask, “R Truth, where did you even come from?”

He scowls, pointing downward. “Boss man said meet him here.”

“I said at the office, Truth. Not the Warehouse.” Jey finally speaks, Solana realizing it’s the first time he’s done so. He sounds annoyed, and she’s not sure if it’s just because of the scene unfolding before them. Or something that he’s clearly still not over.

“Yo? Forreal?” Jey runs his hand over his face. “That’s—that’s my bad.” He looks to Roman, nodding. “Tribal Chief.” He looks at Solana, again nodding, “Mrs. Tribal Chief.” He then gestures to the rest of the group. “Ya’ll be safe now.” Pointing to Carmelo, he adds, “‘cept’ for you, you already dead.”

Solana has so many questions, even as this strange man walks away, Jey muttering something incoherent before he seems to follow after this R-Truth person. 

Once those two men are gone, Carmelo nervously clears his throat. “Tribal Chief, if I can, who better to train her than y—”

“Shut up,” Roman says it so lazily. It’s as he crosses his massive arms over each other that Solana has to briefly look away, finding herself growing….distracted. He’s so damn muscular. “She’s comfortable with me. That won’t help her learn.”

Roman easily transitions into providing basic information about the spear, best ways to time it, stances, ways to land it and whatnot. She’s following, as best she can, at least. Because this exhaustion she’s experiencing is making it ten times harder to be present in the moment, and that’s made evident by the gap in her focus when one moment Roman is explaining, and the next he’s rushing towards Carmelo.

Solana gasps as Roman spears the other man with a ferocity and intensity that seems almost animal-like.

Eyes wide, hands over her mouth, Solana has to wince at a pain she didn’t even experience. But, one didn’t have to be on the receiving end of that to know it had to hurt like hell. 

Roman stands up so unbothered and nonchalant, readjusting his almost always perfect bun.

“Gotta give him his props. No one does a spear quite like Roman,” Bayley chuckles, arms crossed as Solana continues to stare in shock.

Jimmy casually walks by and peers over an unmoved Carmelo. “Ayo, Uce, I think he dead.” The faintest sound of pained whining fills the air, prompting Jimmy to correct himself. “Never mind. He alive.”

“Barely,” Naomi mumbles.

“He shouldn’t be so weak,” is Roman’s pompous defense as he redirects his attention to a still startled Solana. “Make sense?”

There’s a brief delay in between the time she nods slowly and speaks. “But, I—I don’t think I can do that.”

A small smile falls on Roman’s face as he explains, “it’s not going to be the exact same, Solana. I’m significantly bigger than you. Plus, spearing a man is different than spearing a woman.”

“What if I need to spear a man?”

His expression hardens as he affirms, “he’d have to get through me first to fucking touch you.”

Solana doesn’t say anything after that. Just waits for Carmelo to recover as they transition to the one-on-one portion. Solana is rolling her shoulders, trying to get in as much stretching as she can to hopefully loosen up her body more and shed away the almost fatigue she’s feeling.

It’s unfamiliar and inconvenient as hell considering what she’s about to do.

She’s in earshot range too when Roman grabs Melo’s arm and warns in the chilliest tone, “leave one fucking mark on her, and I’ll break every bone in your goddamn body.”

A heavy sigh leaves her body. She understands Roman’s protectiveness, but truthfully, Carmelo is doing them a favor. He doesn’t have to be here. 

Then again….maybe he does.

She doesn’t put it beyond her husband to threaten people on her behalf. 

Not in the slightest.

And on one hand, she’s partially grateful for the obvious care and mindfulness Carmelo is utilizing as he trains with her, it’s definitely helpful from her trauma standpoint. Helps for them to not be as physical as she typically is with Bayley and Naomi. 

However, it's painfully obvious that Carmelo is doing his damn hardest to minimize any and all physical contact between the two of them. A part of her appreciates it, but a larger part of her finds it a bit annoying. It’s sparring. Not interpretive dancing. 

Solana manages to swipe Carmelo off his feet, growing a bit frustrated when he intentionally takes longer to get up. “This doesn't help me,” she sighs, hands on her hips as she takes a second to steal a much needed breath. “Roman, can you please tell him—”

She’s cut off by being swiped by her ankles, tumbling forward to the floor. Carmelo is suddenly over her, flipping her onto her back, Solana not hesitating to move her knee between his stupidly open legs. He groans from the impact, and she takes that opportunity to bar her forearm across his neck, switching them so that he’s on his back with her hovering over him.

However, anything more is cut short by that small interaction alone knocking the wind out of her.

Climbing off him, she moves onto her hands and knees, eyes shut and head dropped. Neither from feeling triggered or even being in pain, just exhaustion.

She’s so damn drained. 

In what feels like seconds, Roman is at her side, hand on her back. “Solana, what’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, answering quickly, “I’m just—tired.” More than what’s normal for her. Training is usually draining, but considering they haven’t even been at it that long, she’s confused as to why she’s getting so winded. Lifting her head, she offers a small smile. “I’m fine.”

“No.” Roman dismisses it with the quickness, directing to the others. “We’re done for the day.”

“Roman, I’m fine. I’m just—probably out of shape.” Maybe, but this feels beyond that. She’s just so fatigued. He helps her to her feet, Solana trying to bargain, “at least let me finish with Bayley?”

He’s not hearing it. “No. You clearly need to ease back into things.” She frowns. I thought I was. “Head to the showers.”

“Roman—”

“He’s right, Solana,” Naomi suddenly sounds, walking over with Bayley. “You’re clearly tired and just need to ease back into and relearn some things. That’s okay. We can do this another day. When you’re at 100.”

“Or maybe she can just continue to train with ya’ll—”

And in perfect synchronized dismissiveness, Roman, Bayley, and Naomi all shut Carmelo down with a simple, “shut up.”

It cracks a smile on Solana’s face. The fact that the majority of them are in agreement is enough to make her realize that they’re probably right in that she should try another day. Maybe even easing back into it. Not necessarily the part about relearning. She remembers everything. Recall is not the problem. This fatigue is, but a part of her is starting to think she knows what it might be.

Just why she’s so fatigued.

And in true Jimmy fashion, he blurts out with the ill timed question, “aye, Soso, what’s for dinner today?”

————

“So why exactly are you fighting again?”

It’s not the first time she’s asked this question. No, it’s been posed at least three different times prior to this occurrence. Just different wording. A different question that’s garnered the same kind of answer every single time. 

A part of her recognizes this, but a part of her also doesn’t care.

Solana has always been under the impression, and has essentially been told by several people, Roman included, that he doesn’t really fight in the ring anymore. That he doesn’t need to. That he doesn’t have anything to prove to anyone, and those words came from him directly.

So, she was and still is, confused when he told her of a match he was competing in. The theme of the fight night being Bad Blood not helping much. At all.

Still, there was no way in hell she would miss attending. Even if her presence wasn’t something that’s technically mandatory. She wants to support him. She’s just nervous about the notion of him being in the ring again, recalling the last time she witnessed such a thing. It was brutal and bloody, and while he came out with the win, relatively unscathed, it still makes her nervous. Because there’s always a chance something can go wrong.

Because she always worries about him, and she’s pretty sure she always will. So long as he is who he is.

Roman, however, couldn’t give two shits about this fight with Drew. Tonight is more of a political move than anything, Roman needing a very public and brutal display of his prowess to remind everyone why he sits at the Head of the Table. It’s truly just an added bonus that he gets to kick the shit out of Drew in the process.

Or worse.

Roman is more focused, borderline distracted, by Solana. The sexy red dress she has on leaves little to the imagination with the low neckline, tight fit, and short length that stops about mid-thigh, rolling even higher as she’s propped on the bathroom counter. Her hair is pinned up, and her makeup is on the lighter, almost undetectable, side. His preference. She’s stunning with and without it, but there’s something he enjoys most seeing her in her natural state.

She just looks good as hell, and if not for the importance of this evening, he’d say fuck this damn match and Drew and spend the rest of the evening with her. A much more desirable and preferable option, truly. But, duty and obligation before anything. 

Even his fine ass wife.

Roman waits until he’s slid the black hoodie over his head, smirking a bit at the slight disappointment that appears on Solana’s face at him no longer being shirtless. He decides to slide through that crevice of brief deflection.

“You know the same way you look at me is the same way I look at and think about you.” He’s walking toward her, big hands carefully spreading her thighs so he can step in between her legs. This close, he’s granted a perfect view of her equally perfect breast. “All the damn time.”

He’s unsurprised when her cheeks redden nor when she says anything. “A challenge was issued, and I need to send a message.” That’s a much simpler way of explaining the full scope of just what tonight is, but he also doesn’t want to bombard her with information she doesn’t necessarily need to know.

She licks her lips, and he hates how sexual such an innocent act looks, especially when he knows that’s not her intent. “What—what kind of message?”

A potentially brutal, bloody message, but painting that picture for her beforehand might create some unnecessary anxiety. “A message that won’t need to be repeated.”

That seems to register for her as she asks, “Are—are you nervous?”

That actually makes Roman laugh. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt that emotion. It’s been years. Many decades. Moving his hands to her waist, he tugs her closer to him. “I don’t get nervous, Solana.”

“Ever?”

“Naw.”

She’s still looking at him with that same level of trepidation, maybe even a bit more heightened actually. “But….but you’re still careful, right?” It seems like an otherwise silly question with an obvious answer, but Roman can see where she’s coming from. The fear that fuels it. “Like….like you pay attention and stuff?”

“Of course,” his answer is gentle and patient. Two things reserved strictly and solely for her. “Solana, I’ve been fighting my whole life. I know what I’m doing.”

Her eyes widen, and he just knows he’s in for an unnecessary apology. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean—”

“Baby.” Yup. Just as he predicted. Bringing his hand to the back of her neck, Roman extends that tenderness, explaining, “I know what you meant. You’re worried, and you shouldn’t be. I’ve got this. Alright?”

She nods a little, and he’s relieved to see some of her apprehension has melted away. With the hand still on her hip, he gives her a light squeeze. “Come on.” Roman stays close as she carefully slides off the counter, her heels giving her a bit of a height boost, but not enough to make a substantial difference. He still towers over her.

And it’s in looking down at her from this angle, and the quick glance of her ass in this dress through the bathroom mirror, he makes a face. “Then again….” Roman slides his hand from the back of her neck, down until he’s palming and squeezing her ass. “Maybe this will be a bit of a distraction.”

“Roman!” She yelps, and he groans at the feel of her. She’s so damn fine and thick in all the right areas that it doesn’t even make sense.

He moves to take her hand, kissing it before guiding her out of the bathroom. “Come on. Before your fine ass makes us late.”

She giggles, holding onto his arm while he hits the light switch. “I didn’t even do anything.”

Roman says nothing, because if only she fucking knew.

If only.

————

Solana was half expecting to be separated from Roman once they reached the warehouse, him needing time to prepare for the fight and whatnot. And while the latter part was true, the first wasn’t. She’s thoroughly surprised when he instead guides her to the back with him to his sizable, impressive locker room.

Roman directs Solana to make herself comfortable, which is almost impossible to do.

It’s hard because she can’t stop thinking about the fact that her husband is going to be in the ring with that man who looked like he would have killed Roman right there on the spot, if he could. The same expression she’s certain he’ll have tonight when it’s just the two of them. 

A part of her is starting to wish she would have sat this one out. Stayed home tonight. Her hand falls to her stomach. That irksome, borderline nauseous feeling has been with her all day. On and off the past week, really. Since trying to return to training earlier in the week. She’s certain a chunk of it has been nerves, but the rest of it, maybe most of it, she’s almost certain, is early onset pregnancy symptoms. 

Just thinking about the fact that a baby, her baby, their baby is growing inside of her belly warms her entire soul. Temporarily distracts her from worrying about Roman. To wondering. Wondering which of his features their child will inherit. Will he or she have his dark, raven, wavy hair? His smoldering brown, almost hazel like eyes? Will the baby take after her brunette locks? Her nose?

In all honesty, she only wants a healthy child. That’s the most important thing, but it’s also hard for her to not lean more on the side of wanting the baby to be a boy. She knows how important producing an heir is. For the Bloodline. For Roman. Especially with how he’s gone above and beyond to keep pressure off them, off her regarding their lack of an heir.

It’s the least she can do for him. He deserves it. 

And she’d love more than anything to give it to him.

Roman stepping back into the vicinity briefly pulls her from her thoughts.

“You alright?”

Naturally, her hand falls from her stomach as she manages a small smile and nod. “Yeah.” She takes in his appearance, noticing his hair is wet and drenched, water droplets rolling down that nearly perfect body she’s grown to love pressed against hers. Not even just for sex. Just in general. Roman’s touch is calming to her. 

Climbing down off the table where she sits, she moves over to him. “Are you?”

He chuckles, hand to her hip. “Always.”

She has to believe that. 

Solana goes to kiss him when the Wise Man walks back in, forcing her to settle for a hand to his cheek. “Be careful.”

He clearly hears the presence of someone else and only nods, his eyes conveying the unspoken ‘I love you.’ She just offers him a warm smile before she retracts her hand and moves to leave the room, only providing her husband’s chief advisor a quiet ‘hello.’

Security escorts her up to the same VIP seating area as the last couple of times she’s attended events like this at the Warehouse. And as usual, Bayley and Naomi are already sitting and waiting for her. 

“Had to give your man that good luck quickie right before, huh?”

Bayley’s comment makes Solana blush and aware of the hickey on her neck she didn't even bother trying to hide. Or the one near her breast. 

“She didn’t deny it either,” Naomi snickers, playfully shoving Solana. 

Instead of acknowledging their innuendos, she utilizes an actual productive use of time. “I was thinking.”

“Listening,” Bayley responds, the two ladies keenly focused on the new topic. 

“Roman has to go out of town next week for……business.” She tries to not think too much about that. It’ll only spike her worry. 

“Who’s going to stay with you?” Naomi asks, gesturing to the two of them. “He didn’t ask us.” 

Solana swallows. That's definitely something she wants to work on with him. The fact that he still blames them for what happened. “Nia.”

“Nia?” 

To be fair, Solana had a bit of the same reaction when Roman first told her his cousin would be staying with her. She’s certain it was…..an interesting discussion, to say the least.

Solana shrugs. “She’s not that bad.” And it’s true. Solana has received much worse from people, in terms of treatment. “And it’s really just….to give me my medicine and stuff.” Because Roman seemed vehemently against and shut it down so fast when she even approached the idea of being able to handle it on her own. Not that….not that she can blame him, per se. “But, I was thinking. What if we went to Isla Mujeres for the weekend? Like that girls trip we were talking about.”

“You talk to Roman about it?”

Solana shakes her head, explaining. “Nia would be with us, so I’m sure he’d be fine.” Because she is. Now, if Nia doesn’t come along, then that’s another story. Though something tells her that once she tells Roman she wants to do this, he’ll find a way to make Nia go along with the plan. 

“I think it could be fun,” Naomi shares, rubbing her hands together. “From the pictures you showed us, the beach looks beautiful.”

“It is,” Solana smiles. “I want to invite Cam, Mickie, and Melina too.”

“So do it,” Bayley encourages. “It’s your girls trip. You decide on the guest list. Melina has always been cool. I didn’t know she…..struggled the way she does, but I’ve always liked her.” Solana is appreciative of Bayley’s handling of Melina’s mental health struggles. “And Cam and Mickie seem cool too.”

“They are,” Solana agrees. They really helped her time spent in the hospital and the treatment facility go a lot easier than it could have been. 

As per usual, conversation flows naturally between the ladies only to minimize once the night begins, all three paying attention to the various matches, mostly the ones that pertain to the Bloodline. 

So, really, Jimmy and Jey’s tag team match against two men that Solana doesn’t recognize, which, of course, the twins come out with the win for. And Roman’s match, the last of the night, because no one comes after the Tribal Chief.

The complete shift in energy when Roman enters the space is truly something to behold. His power and dominance is felt in every square inch of the building. Undeniable excellence and power penetrating almost. She can’t take her eyes off him, his face stoic, determined, focused.

She can see why he doesn’t get nervous. He seems so in his element in this space. Even as Drew comes out with that same level of determination, an almost hatred splayed across his face as he looks over at Roman with ardent vitriol.

Her husband, however, is unbothered.

As he is with most things in life.

Still, the fact that Drew is about what and what with Roman in regards to build and size has her anxiety festering. She knows and has seen for herself how flawless Roman is in the ring. That doesn’t mean she can’t worry though. Can’t wait for this to all just be over with so they can go home.

So she can start figuring out just how she wants to tell him about the pregnancy.

But, that’s a then thing, and this is very much here and now.

The sound of the bell fills the Warehouse as the boisterous crowd continues to erupt, excited to see their Tribal Chief in action.

If only she could relate. 

For the most part, the match starts off as expected, Roman being in the lead, staying one or several steps ahead of Drew, expertly dodging or countering hits. Solana is practically on the edge of her seat, chewing on her bottom lip, watching every single piece of the fight. From Roman’s steps to Drew’s lunges to the way both men who seem too large for life go at it like two titans.

Of course, despite looking like one, Roman is no God. He’s still a man, a man who takes several hits from Drew, one making Solana wince. However, she learned from the night of WarGames, Roman hates being hit. It only pisses him off more than he naturally is at any given point. 

And that’s proven in the increased brutality of Roman’s hits, Drew being the first to have blood spilled as Roman smashes his head in the steel staircase. 

It’s a quick shift though that she somehow misses, because Drew suddenly has Roman in a painful looking headlock. One he seems to take too long to get out of, for her comfort. 

Solana moves to the absolute edge of her seat, panic starting to set in the longer Roman’s airway is restricted. And then she sees the way Drew’s mouth moves, the snarl and subsequent smirk as he says something to Roman. Roman’s briefly stunned eyes flickering to hers, but it’s so short, too short to process. Because just as quickly as he was looking at her, he’s managed his way out of the headlock, sending the other man to the ground. Roman wastes no time jumping on top of him, gaining and taking full advantage of the upper hand, raining blow on top of blow on Drew with a pace and aggression that seems almost inhuman.

The light blue of the mat is suddenly splashed and splayed with blood. Drew’s. Roman’s chest and fist also stained, Solana wincing a bit as even from a distance she sees the way Drew's face has become almost disfigured by blood, bruising, and swelling. 

He’s clearly lost consciousness, but that doesn’t stop Roman.

No, instead a deep frown falls on her face as she watches Roman move outside of the ring and lift up the metal staircase that he brings back into the ring with him. She turns her head right before the impact between the steps and the unconscious man.

Unalive man, because there’s no way Drew is still breathing. Not with the severity of the beating. 

Bayley and Naomi are clearly also taken back by witnessing a live murder but clearly do their best not to make it a thing for her sake. She’s appreciative, but it still doesn’t delete her confusion towards Roman’s behavior.

Overkill. Barbaric. Sadistic, almost. 

And with all of that, the confliction she’s experiencing, Solana can only think of one thing, what the hell happened in that ring to bring about that kind of rage in her husband?

————

Roman doesn’t say much to her.

It’s not surprising. She’s not quite sure what there is to say. Him viciously beating a man to death isn’t, at the core of it, something that needs explaining.

That doesn’t stop her from trying to almost dance around the subject. Asks him if he’s feeling alright, if he wants her to fix him anything, and things of the sort. It doesn’t do much. His responses are minimal, a few words to each statement, at best.

It bothers her to know something is bothering him, that he won’t talk to her, but also, Solana can admit she’s not sure how to talk with him about this.

She’d certainly do her best though, if he was actually willing to open up to her. 

She doesn’t force it though, just welcomes his arms around her as they lay in bed, eventually falling asleep together. 

However, Dulce does what Dulce does best and wakes up in the middle of the night, politely reminding her parents of her small bladder. Regardless of her sleep intrusion, Solana is grateful to be able to escort their puppy out of the room without disturbing her husband’s much needed and deserved sleep. 

But, it’s as Dulce seems to take her sweet time finding the perfect spot to relieve herself that Solana frowns. Lifting her hand to her breast, she’s taken back by the tenderness of the touch. New and out of the norm. 

Another……symptom?

Even with the night’s unexpected events, as much as she’s trying to not allow herself to get too excited at the possibility of being pregnant, it’s hard not to. Especially with the strange onset of symptoms she’s been experiencing all week. Some seen before or during her cycle, but some new and unfamiliar. And a quick google search confirmed they in fact could be early pregnancy symptoms.

But still, Solana has gained enough self-introspection to know that a negative test would be…..difficult for her to process. Something she doesn’t really even want to think about, hence why she’s not allowing herself to fully acknowledge that she’s probably pregnant.

Because the alternative would be…..not the desired outcome.

It’s as she observes the backyard, seeing the reflection of the lights above the pool that a random thought crosses her mind. A question, rather. Would they have to cover up the pool when the baby starts crawling? What other changes around the house would have to be implemented for safety reasons? Most definitely, they’d have to stock up on those baby proof outlet covers. And maybe even block off the staircase.

Something tells her any child of her husband would be mobile. On the run. A small smile settles on her face, her hand falling to her belly as she once again mentally puts together what their child will look like. Him. Her. Both of them.

Both would be her preference. Roman would be a close second.

Dulce’s short legs carry her back into the house, her wagging tale eliciting a smile and small laugh. “Good job—”

“Where the hell were you?”

Solana jumps and gasps. Outside of his sudden presence in the living room startling her, Roman's tone and volume indicate a level of irritation that doesn’t quite compute. Doesn’t make sense. Where else would she have been? 

Confused, she answers, “Dulce had to use the bathroom...”

This didn’t seem to be the answer he neither wanted nor needed. His expression is sharp. “So you went out there alone?”

This brings a frown to her face, a contrast to her almost jovial disposition not even minutes prior. Solana points out in a calm voice, “Roman, I–I always go alone.”

“Not anymore.” She can’t protest, because he adds. “Wake me up, and if I’m not here, let her use the damn crate.”

“But—”

“You heard what I said!”

His voice bounces off the walls and echoes through the hall, but it’s Solana’s jump away from him that seems to trigger something for Roman. His expression immediately softens. “Shit, I’m sorry, I–I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

She says nothing for a good minute before quickly deciding that beating around the bush isn’t the way to go in this situation.

She needs to be direct.

“Ro….what happened tonight?” 

She’d briefly played around with the idea of bringing it up to him or letting it lie. Obviously, the latter is not the best route to go. “You….you were off. You lost control, and that’s….that’s not like you.”

In the ring is when she’s noticed he’s most controlled, never allowing his emotions to cloud his judgment and actions because he recognizes the detriment it would cause. Yes, he’s violent and brutal, but it’s still controlled. Not tonight. …tonight she saw that impulsive, emotion driven man she’d heard whispers about over the years. Tonight, she saw him take a man’s life, and not in a controlled methodical way, but in a moment of pure rage and spontaneity. 

She’d never tell him this, never allow it to leave her mouth, but for a split second, it scared her. Solana wasn’t naive enough to truly think that his kindness or love toward her made him any less of a cold-blooded killer. And she knows, without a shadow of a doubt that he would never hurt her or direct his anger towards her.

But.

 But, the look in his eyes tonight…it was as if he had no soul. 

And that….that is what scared her. 

His gaze darts to the corner of the room, an intentional act to avoid her own, she’s sure. “He pissed me off.”

“Ro….people piss you off all the time, and you don’t beat them to death like you did him.” It’s such a strange experience, speaking with him so casually. Solana can still recall the tightness in her chest every time she was in the vicinity of this man, the fear she struggled to manage when even looking at him, often keeping her gaze downward. And now, she’s pushing him on what is obviously a lie. Or a deep state of denial. “He—he said something to you.” That’s when he finally sets his eyes on her. “I–I saw it.”

“Does it matter now?” 

“Yes—yes, it does, because you just snapped at me for taking our dog out to use the bathroom, something I’ve done for months now.” It’s not until saying that aloud that a thought crosses her mind. “Was—was it about me? Did—did he say something about me?” And when he says nothing, doesn’t deny it or push back or even snap at her again that she realizes that’s exactly what it was.

And it confuses the mess out of her. 

What could have been said to cause him to react so violently? Even more, how could it have been any different from the shit talking they all do in the ring?

“I don’t—I don’t understand.” Her eyes follow him as he moves toward the living room, sitting on the edge of the sofa. Tentatively and without much thought, her legs carry her toward him, but she stops just shy of being at arms length. Noticing this, Roman motions her closer with his index finger. And as soon as she’s close enough, he tugs her onto his lap. Seeing the conflict in his eyes, she moves her hand to his bicep. “Baby, please talk to me…..”

Like many, if not any, interaction with her comforting urge, Roman finds it difficult to deny her. He struggles to push back those words that have secretly haunted him even hours after he put a permanent end to McIntyre. 

“You really think you can keep her safe?” His cruel taunt, wicked smile revealing the blood building in his mouth, coating his teeth. “She’ll die just like rest of your fucking fam—”

“Ro…”

And it's her soft voice that pulls him from the memory as he shares with her what was said. “He said I couldn’t keep you safe, that you’d die like the rest of my family.” She gasps. Whatever was said had to have been bad and most likely somehow about her. She just didn’t know it would be that.

Shaking her head, she pushes his hair back. “He was just…he was just trying to get in your head.” And I think it worked. Solana would never verbalize as such to Roman, but it’s a thought she can’t dismiss. She’s never seen him this bothered. “Nothing—nothing’s going to happen to me, Ro.”

“I told you before that I don’t—I don’t feel things like you. That I don’t—feel anything.” She remembers it vividly. That conversation between them that was during the early days of their love story. Something that feels so long ago now. “I was wrong. I’ve—I’ve always felt anger, but now I’m feeling other things too, and I don’t know how—” He stops himself, clearly changing directions. “I’m sorry I did that in front of you—”

“It’s fine, Ro. I—” Because despite that brief second of ear, her first and foremost concern is him. It’s always him. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He’s quiet for a moment, sharing in an almost unsure voice. “I count your pills every day before I go to bed.” She’s still, unmoving, unsure how to process such a thing. Because she knows why, exactly why he does that. And it nearly breaks her heart in fucking half. “Losing you is the only thing in this fucking world that scares me.” Voice shifting into something desperate and almost vulnerable, he says with all the conviction. “Because, I can’t lose you, Sol.” His gaze is on her, burning with determination. And need. “I won’t.”

“And you won’t.” Her hands move to his face, beard bristling against the skin on her palms. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” She places an almost tentative, chaste kiss to his temple, noticing how his eyes close after. As if he’s more at peace. “Roman, I am with you until my dying breath, and that won’t be happening anytime soon. Not for you. Not for me.”

And not for their child growing inside of her.

“Why don’t—why don’t we go see Fetu this weekend?” It’s technically early Saturday morning already, and Solana returns to work Monday, but even just a day or two spent with his aunt could probably make a difference for her husband who she sees needs to get away. “Or even if you just go—I can stay—”

“No.” His voice is still low, but it’s not as weighed down. She’s grateful for at least that. “She’d be pissed if I showed up without you.” The hint of humor in his voice makes her heart swell. 

“We’ll go.” It’s not necessarily a suggestion anymore. It’s a plan. “You’ll clear your head, and everything will be better, okay?” He looks at her, nodding quietly. Solana makes a mental note to make sure to pack one or two pregnancy tests, because what better way to break the news to him than being able to tell Fetu right after? Together.

It seems like a perfect plan to her. 

Noticing Dulce has already left and went back upstairs, Solana suggests the same to her husband. “Let’s go back to bed, okay?”

It’s then that Solana realizes his hand on her hip is moving in slow, soothing circles. She can’t tell if it’s for his comfort or hers. Placing her hand over his, she gives a gentle tug, moving off his lap but never allowing her hand to leave his. 

His movements are slow initially, but he stands up and allows her to guide them up the stairs and back into their bedroom. Solana easily resumes their earlier sleeping position, grateful and thankful when he kisses her temple and murmurs, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

The exact moment when she falls asleep, or even when he does, is unknown. But what is known is when she’s woken up to the sound of grunts and muttered protests.

“I’ve gotta….save…them.”

Solana blinks and rubs at her eyes. “Ro?”

Sitting up, she sees him twisting and turning, an almost distressed look on his handsome face. Her heart drops. A nightmare. He’s having a nightmare.

Naturally, Solana moves her hand to his shoulder, shaking him a bit. “Roman, wake up.” She might as well have done nothing, because he’s continuing to stir, mumbling in Samoan. Voice so low that even if she did speak the language, she wouldn’t hear him. 

Without thinking twice about it, Solana climbs on top of him, straddling him as she continues her efforts to awaken him. “Roman, baby, please wake up.” It’s both familiar and unfamiliar. She knows this struggle very well. Has lived through it almost her entire life, but she’s never been on this end. Been on the side of watching someone go through it.

Least of all, Roman. 

And she hates it. Hates it with everything in her because she knows how heavy and devastating it is to be sucked into reliving trauma. That’s why she ups the ante, raising her voice and essentially hitting him on his shoulders.

“Roman! Wake u—”

“No!” 

It all happens so fast. Almost too fast for Solana to truly process what’s occurring in the moment. It’s only afterwards that she can recount it, can recall what just happened, can process that at the same time she went to try to save him from himself, Roman shot awake with an instinctive swing, a natural, almost protective thing that results in Solana shoved to the edge of the bed, mouth open, holding onto her face. 

It’s an instant stinging sensation, a dull, throbbing pain that she hasn’t felt in some time and never anticipated feeling as a result of her own husband. 

A husband who is now awake and also aware of what just happened. His widened eyes and open mouth are on her as Solana winces a bit and flexes her jaw, trying to gather herself. He’s up. That’s the only thing that matters. 

“Oh my God.” She’s not sure she’s ever heard Roman sound so horrified. “Solana—”

Her name is enough to pull her back to him, Solana climbing on his lap, shaking her head as she cups his face. “It’s okay. I’m—I’m okay—”

“I hit you….”

Even him saying it aloud seems and feels wrong to Solana. “No, baby—you were having a nightmare. It wasn’t like that—”

“I hit you, Solana.” He’s not even looking at her, looking down, perplexed, disturbed with himself, clearly trying to sit on this unfathomable thing. 

“Roman, I’m fine. Really.” Her face is throbbing, and she’s certain she’ll have a bruise come morning, but it’s nothing compared to what she’s received in the past. From the actual hitting she used to be on the receiving end of. From her dad and brother. “Ro, I did the same thing to you, remember? I—I ripped out your stitches.” It’s something she felt horrified at herself for in the moment. Probably close to what he’s feeling even though she’d rather he not because he’s done nothing wrong. “Baby—”

Shaking his head, Roman lowers her hands from his face. “I’m sorry.” She goes to reassure him that he’s fine, that she’s fine, but Roman is fast, easily moving the blankets off him, forcing her to the side, off him. 

“Roman, no—” She scrambles off the bed as he goes for the door of their bedroom, effectively planting herself in front of it. “No, you’re not leaving.”

He closes his eyes, his voice almost desperate. “Solana, please.”

“No!” Raising her voice wasn’t an intentional thing, just a result of her own emotions brewing in this moment. She’s not even thinking about herself, about the pain in her face. She’s just thinking about the man in front of her who looks disgusted with himself. “Roman, I am fine.”

Because she is.

Because even with all of her trauma, having been hurt so deeply and badly by men, Roman unintentionally striking her didn’t fill her with an ounce of fear. Didn’t make her want to put as much distance between them as possible. Didn’t have any effect on how she sees and feels about him.

She could only focus on him and how distressing his nightmare must have been to result in such a response. 

“I hurt you….” It’s the way his voice almost wavers with the word ‘hurt’ along with his fraught countenance that has her chest tightening. She’s never seen him look so upset, and the fact that it’s solely directed toward himself is gut-wrenching. 

“No,” her voice catches in the back of throat, eyes watering. She reaches up and cups his face. “Baby, listen to me. You could never hurt me.”

Something flashes in his eyes, something akin to anger as he asks in a tight voice, “But, I did." She shakes her head, ready to stand here all night trying to convince him that he’s not in the wrong when he takes it a step further. “How is it any different from your dad and brother?”

It’s an active effort to not back away from him, to not drop her hands and for no reason other than putrid disgust. Disgust that he could even fix his mouth to say such a thing. To put himself into that category. 

Solana swallows, specifically choosing each and every word that leaves her mouth. “Roman…I was raped. Violently. For—for hours. I couldn’t—I couldn’t walk afterwards.” She hates talking about this, hates reliving the horrors just from recounting, but she’ll do just about anything to wipe away that gutted, guilty look on her husband’s face. “Wes—Wes was the reason I first started cutting myself, because—” She closes her eyes, having never said these words aloud to anyone. “Because he made me do it. He said it was my—my punishment for getting our mother killed. And eventually….eventually I started to believe him, so I just started doing it to myself, because I thought it was what I deserved.” Another deep, shaky exhale. “My own father tried to kill me.” Roman’s expression slips into something in the vein of surprised. Confused even. Horrified, mostly. “I tried to run away once, and he put me in the hospital for two weeks and told me that if I ever tried to leave again that he’d— he’d make sure to finish the job.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, and truth be told, she’s not sure she wants him to. She just wants him to listen, really listen and allow her words to penetrate his thick layer of undeserved guilt. “You are the first man in my life to never hurt me the way I’ve been hurt, so don’t you ever fucking say again that you hurt me or put yourself in the same category as those bastards. You are nothing like them.” Because she’d rather walk barefoot on burning coal for the rest of her life than for him to ever even think he’s in the same group as them. “So, please, please just—” 

Solana feels it rising, traveling up her body at the most impromptu time. “Shit,” she curses, slapping her hand over her mouth as she dashes to the bathroom, hitting the light, barely making it to the toilet that, thankfully, is already open and ready for her to deposit what feels like everything she ate that day into the commode.

It’s such a miserable, uncomfortable experience, more or less dry heaving over the toilet in the middle of the night. 

Just added to the list of unfortunate things that have happened. A heavy wave of exhaustion washes over her as she lays her head down on her arm that’s stretched across the toilet seat. She feels like shit, and it has nothing to do with what just happened.

If only she could tell her husband that.

Because Roman is suddenly behind her, hand on the small of her back, asking if she’s alright. Glancing over at him, she shakes her head, mustering up a quiet excuse of it probably being something she ate.

He doesn’t look convinced, and Solana knows it’s because he’s somehow connecting this to what just happened. She’d give anything to be able to wipe that belief from his mind, to tell him it’s just morning sickness, a common pregnancy symptom.

Because with all of the dots connecting, there’s no doubt in Solana’s mind. Any test would just be a formality. She knows her body. 

She knows that she’s pregnant.

But, something tells her that telling Roman this will only make things worse. Make him feel even more guiltier than what he’s already experiencing. Would kill him to know he ‘hit’ her while she’s carrying his child. 

This isn’t the way she wants to tell him, either. Not like this. No, it needs to be…..special. After all he’s done and probably had to put up with in order to explain them not producing a child after almost eight months of marriage. She can’t announce it like this. 

He deserves better.

The wave passes as Solana stands up and flushes the toilet, moving over to the sink to brush her teeth, praying that’s the extent of it. For now, at least. Roman is watching and observing her closely the whole time. 

Mouth clean and stripped, somewhat, of that bitter aftertaste, she takes his hand and guides him back to their bedroom. Gratitude fills her when he doesn’t protest the way she practically climbs on top of him, her body resting on his, an intentional position to prevent him from trying to leave out without her noticing. 

“Stay with me….” It’s the only thing that leaves her mouth, a soft but firm delivery. It’s the only thing she wants and needs in this moment, for his arms to remain around her, holding her, the same way she’s holding him. 

The way she'll always hold onto him.

————

It’s purely a stroke of luck that allows Roman to wake up at the call of his biological clock and find that Solana is no longer atop him but sleeping on her side, back toward him, deeply immersed in much deserved slumber. 

But, it's not even a minute later that a heaviness overtakes him as he’s quickly reminded of what happened. Of what he did. What he did to her.

Roman doesn’t hesitate to carefully climb out of bed and move to Solana’s side, hitting the switch on the lamp for a clear presentation. Something he wasn’t ready for. Not in the slightest.

“Jesus Christ….”

Dread fills him all over again with the illumination of the lamp on Solana’s nightstand. Gives him a full, unobstructed view of the left side of her face. A not even fully formed, nasty looking bruise marring her features.

Roman knew that he had to hit her hard, that she had to be downplaying the impact, but the big ass, dark bruise can’t hide the hideous truth. The extent is ugly and evident. It’s a fucking miracle he didn’t fracture or break something. Because he absolutely could have. Not that that makes a huge difference, because regardless of the severity, he hit her. 

He fucking hit her. 

It feels undeserving, the way he reaches his hand to gently caress her marred face. His stomach clenches as he mutters the three words that could never change, lessen or take back what he’s done.

“I’m so sorry….” Because he is. Because Roman’s list of regrets in life is minimal. Less than the average person, of this, he’s sure. But this, what happened last night is easily at the top of that list. He doesn’t hesitate to turn the switch off, not wanting to have to see the consequences of his horrific actions, even if he should.

Even if he should have to face it. Should have to be faced with the one thing he swore he would never do.

Because that’s exactly what he’s done.

He doesn’t bother waking her up for her medication. Just leaves it in a small, ramekin-like bowl for her to take whenever she wakes up. With the night she had, he hopes she sleeps for a couple more hours.

And he’s grateful for the time he has to himself, to workout, to shower, to think, to act. Even if it’s all a bit of a blur.

Years. It’s been years since he’s experienced that type of rage. Since he’s blacked out like that. Because that’s exactly what happened. Roman remembers Drew’s ominous threat, recalls the beginning of the beating, but most after that is blotchy. Blurred. And the last time he felt that way….was the night he killed Rhodes' family.

Not that he regretted it then or now. Even Drew. No, what he regrets and doesn’t know how to process is that he lost that control in front of his wife. That he lost it with his wife, resulting in her battered face. 

Despite the horrors of trauma she’s experienced at the hands of men in her life and the fact that what happened was unintentional, it doesn’t negate what he did. It was wrong, and she didn’t deserve it. 

She doesn’t deserve to put up with any of the shit he’s dealing with right now.

What happened with Jey was something he hated having to do in front of her, but this….this is entirely different.

A line was completely crossed.

And it can’t happen again.

Much later that morning, closer to noon than anything is when Roman finds her in the kitchen changed out of her pajamas and into short shorts and a shirt. Normally, he’d be focused on how good she looks and how much he appreciates seeing her confidence grow to where she doesn’t try to hide her body. But, it’s hard with the dark bruising on her face.

She’s clearly in the middle of fixing something but walks over to him, warm smile on her face as she places her hand on his chest. “There you are.” She leans up and kisses him, sharing, “I was wondering when you’d come out. I’m fixing us lunch right quick before we get on the road.”

She turns back towards the counter right as he says her name. “Solana—”

“Do you want anything in particular?”

“Solana.”

“I can make—”

“Solana.” He says it a third and final time, seeing the way she pauses. Deflection. It’s intentional. She can clearly tell something is wrong. With a slow turn to look at him again, it takes everything in him to not look away. The fucking bruise. “I’m leaving tonight.”

Her small smile immediately drops into a deep scowl. “Wh—what?” He briefly redirects his gaze, focusing on the laces of his sneakers instead of the disappointment he knows he’s about to lay on her. “You want—you want to get on the road tonight?”

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to bite the bullet. There’s no need in stretching this out. “No, Solana, I’m—I’m flying out to Italy tonight.”

Nothing could have prepared him for the gutted look on her face. She’s clearly confused, smartly pointing out, “but—but you said you weren’t leaving until next week.”

His jaw clenches as he answers so calmly. “Plans changed.”

Her gaze is intense, her eyes never leaving his. “The plans changed or you changed them?” He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t have to. She already knows the answer. Solana swallows, eyes watering as she walks over to him. “Please don’t do this. Roman, what happened wasn’t your fault. I’m fine.”

“Solana, you are not fine. Have you seen your face?” It’s not intended to be harsh, and the coarseness in his tone is truly directed to no one but himself. “I know my strength. You know my strength. It’s a fucking miracle it’s not worse than what it already is. If I had hit you hard enough and at the right angle—”

“But, you didn’t.” She knows exactly what he’s getting at, and she refuses to allow him to travel down that dark 'what if' road. “Ro, I know you’re upset with yourself, but please don’t do this. You don’t need to leave. I don’t want you to leave.”

And deep down, he doesn’t want to leave. Would love to stay here and just go see his aunt with his wife, but that won’t solve anything. It’s putting an old band-aid on an open, deep wound. He needs to separate himself so that he can turn his feelings completely off. Disconnect and detach. 

Or sort through in a way that is violent and unacceptable here. Especially around Solana.

And that’s exactly what being in Italy, being around those people, could do for him. 

Roman tries to explain as such to his wife without going into too much detail.

“You’re right. I do need to get away. But, going by Fetu isn’t going to help this.” It’s not going to help, because he doesn’t have an abundance of confusion he needs to sort through. He has anger, aggression, rage. All unlocked by fucking McIntyre that he needs to do away with, and being around his aunt, cousin, and even wife won’t do it. “We can go when I get back—”

She closes her eyes. “Roman—”

“Solana.” He’ll be honest, he expected her to not be happy with his decision, but her level of emotionality seems on the higher end of normal. She seems more emotional than usual. “I love you.” And he always will. “But, what happened last night can’t happen again.”

He won’t let it happen again.

“What if—what if I leave?” She suggests, Roman frowning at the almost desperation in her tone. “I can go stay with Naomi or Bayley for a couple days. Give—give you space.”

“Solana—”

“Hell, even Nia, if that would make you feel better.”

“Sol—”

“Just please.” Her voice cracks as she grabs onto his shirt, begging almost, “please don’t leave me.” She buries herself into his chest, Roman holding her, wanting to assure her that he’s not leaving her. He’s leaving the situation to get a clear mind, to figure out what he needs to do. 

Because he wasn’t lying when he said there’s nothing in this world that scares him more than losing her. Than something happening to her. 

He just could have never anticipated that he could ever be a direct reason for something happening to her.

That something bad—or worse—could happen to her at his hands.

Because he swore he’d always protect her. 

And he always will.

Even if that danger is himself.

Even if it means doing what neither of them may want but is ultimately what’s best for her. 

Even if it breaks the heart that will always belong to her. 

Whether they’re together or not.

[paulmccart]

We're Not Gonna Take It! And the Story of How We Almost Did

Protesters outside of the PMRC senate hearings.

Are you a victim of rock? Well maybe you aren't, but all the way back in 1985 a group of prominent D.C wives felt that they were.

These women, with the help of Beach Boys member Mike Love and Joseph Coors, the owner of Coors Beers, formed the PMRC (Parents Music Resource Center).

Their reasoning for forming as co-founder Susan Baker put it:

"It started because one day my 7-year-old came in and started quoting some of Madonna's lyrics to me, wanting to know what they meant. And I was shocked. I knew that you had to be concerned about movies and TV, but I didn't have a clue that my 7-year-old would be exposed to inappropriate songs."

The goal of the PMRC was to give parents more control over what their children could listen to. As well as implementing a rating system for music with bad language, sexual themes, and anti-Christian messages just to name a few. Eventually the group made a list of the fifteen worst songs, in their opinion and labeled them "The Filthy Fifteen".

(And it also happens to make a killer playlist)

Besides a rating system and lyrics printed on album covers the PMRC had several other goals including:

"...records with explicit covers be wrapped or kept under the counter; that record companies reassess contracts with performers who engage in sexual or violent acts on stage; that broadcasters be pressured to exhibit "voluntary restraint" by not airing offending music videos, which would also be rated."

All that noise coming from the PMRC culminated on September 19th, 1985. When a hearing in the senate occurred. Two musicians were called in on behalf of the music industry, Frank Zappa and Dee Snider of Twisted Sister. Two of musics most studious and serious creatives.

Zappa and Snider both gave eloquent defenses of what they deemed to be free speech.

But the PMRC had a trick up their sleeves... or so they thought.

They'd also invited John Denver to speak that day, assuming that he would stand with the side of "family values" but they were mistaken.

John Denver's testimony was the most scathing that day. He cited his own experience with having some of his music banned from radio. Even going as far as comparing the PMRC and groups like it to Nazi book burnings.

So what did the PMRC end up accomplishing? You know those tiny explicit labels in the corner of some albums? You can thank the PMRC for those. When they were originally introduced they were called "Tipper Stickers" after one of more outspoken PMRC members Tipper Gore (wife of Al Gore).

So while we didn't exactly take it, for a time we almost did. And thanks to testimony from Frank Zappa, John Denver, and Dee Snider, we can regularly enjoy any kind of music we want to- even the songs that promote the occult.

Both photographs come from Mark Weiss who photographed the event for Rock Scene Magazine.

[priestessame]

♬ ▶• "I don't care, I'd never fucking eat pussy." ♬ ▶•

♬ ▶• (or so he said) Minors DNI! ♬ ▶•

♬ ▶• "𝔭𝔲𝔰𝔰𝔶 𝔭𝔲𝔱 ��𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭, 𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔥𝔢'𝔰 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢 ⁿʸᵠᵘⁱˡ"

. . . ✰🎸✩ ♥︎ Ryomen Sukuna X Wife? Reader ♥︎

part 1 of the femme fatal playlist

warnings: Fem AFAB reader, mentions of blood and gore, oral receiving, teasing, spanking, public sex? degradation, spanking, squirting, monster-form sukuna (bros got 4 arms).

It was a dewy evening, the early summer bringing in an unwanted wave of humidity. The moths buzzed along the yellow flame of the street lamp and Sukuna crushed one in his hand at once, wiping his palm on his already soiled kimono. The sorcerers were getting too damn proud. He couldn't even relish the killing today, despite how many bugs had turned up. He gripped another one of those buzzing bastards, carefully ripping off its wings as it thrashed desperately in his hands. 

Too dull. He thought.

The one he decided on next was more blue, hued crimson with brown, eye-like designs on its wings. Better, peeling the wings from its fuzzy body before tossing it in the undergrowth. 

The faint smell of anko curled around him the moment he stepped closer to the estate. The air now was tinged with a different kind of warmth. 

His robe was slashed open, and although the wounds had stitched themselves on his walk back, he still felt the strain of the kill. The grimy blood caked his skin, and the fleshy bits clinging to his skin had started to itch. All of it only deepened his frown. 

In the moment his eyes wandered along the familiar landscape, trying to find some unfortunate servant he can rip up. But the figure that waddled out of the shoya residence was yours. 

Your face lit up the moment you saw him, eyes bright, as you ran up to him. 

"My lord!" you chirped out, your tone a stark change to the gloomy environment. 

The prospect wasn't new to him, human offerings both alive and dead were far too common, thrown at his feet to please him, although more out of fear than reverence. So when the village head had begged him to take you, he accepted. He had gotten through most of the previous ones quickly, but you had managed to stay for an annoyingly long time.

Somewhere he needed to be credited for that. The only reason you had managed to live was because Sukuna found himself unable to pin his anger down on you. 

For you, escaping death by his hands had become a past-time and after a while he had eased to your presence, not minding a pretty thing running around about him.  

He sat down near the bamboo water pump as you tugged the reed to keep the water running. He watched you carry the pine-knit basket in your hands like you were waiting for him to be back all bloodied. 

You stripped the torn robe off his shoulders, leaving him in his hakama pants. He looked messy, his pale skin bathed in crimson. The gore was everywhere, lining his sculpted muscles and trailing down his neck, sitting so thick you couldn't see the black markings that lined his torso. 

You hummed behind him as you fetched the water. Sleeves drawn back to reveal your forearms, and poured the water over his bloodied palms, the gore washing down and pooling around his feet. The stale blood was hard to get off. The smell flooded around you two, making him curl his lip, but you just hummed nonchalantly.

"I learned how to make nagamashi today." You said, clearly very proud. "Yuu-ki taught me how to make the small ones that look like flowers-" 

"You were out with that whore again?" He gruntled, holding his hands over the running water. Not that he really cared, but it surprised him that anyone even dared to so much as talk to you whilst knowing who he was.

"She's not a whore," You replied simply, "She's an artist, she tells stories." 

"Of people fucking." 

He had heard of her from Urame. They had found her in a small corner of the dingy market street, surrounded by a small huddle of people waiting to hear some washed-out smutty stories. Why had you suddenly developed an interest in those was beyond him. But every now and then he'd come home to you narrating another one of Yuuki's tales. 

You giggled, "It's just ink on scrolls, they aren't as bad as you think." 

You scrubbed at his palms, fingers gliding over his knuckles and sliding through his fingers. His gaze swept over to your face, reaching to play with strands of your hair that had escaped your bun, tucking the moth wings in it before retracting. His thumb brushed up against the swell of your cheek, leaving a blurry trail of blood water and your face warmed from the touch. 

"She had a new story today." You babbled on, "About a traveller and a merchant's daughter he met.."

Sukuna sighed as he pulled you closer with his lower set of arms, holding you in his lap. As always you looked completely unfazed by the gore, only allowing a faint blush to cover your face before dabbing the cloth in tepid water and scrubbing the blood from his neck. 

Your kimono had bunched around your waist, he let an idle hand run along the plushness of your exposed calves. You felt so mortal against his touch, like if he applied any more pressure you'd break.

I have heard he pleasured her." You trailed off, tapping a finger on his lips, "With his mouth." 

As the shock of your words wore off, his laughter rumbled in his chest. He threw his head back, his shoulders shaking with how loud he laughed, and sound ringing around you.  

"Shame" you replied smoothly. You felt his gaze snap towards you instantly, the laughter coming to a complete stop. You knew he was a proud man. Usually, when that was used against him, he was quick to falter.

He had never seen dominance that was wrapped in sweet words, licorice to taste. 

The whole idea was absurd to him, why the fuck would he ever go down on a woman? But the way you had interjected him pissed him off. A small mortal thing like you, scoffing at him like he didn't know any better. His grip on your waist tightened, 

In his life, the king of curses had only seen devotion. He had only been with men and women that brimmed with obedience. They were never against his words, heads always hung low, and eyes that wandered away from his face. Buried neck-deep in reverence and fear. They sought their pleasure in service to him, letting him use their bodies however he saw fit, and that's how it had always been.  

"What do you mean woman?" 

You blinked at him innocently, "I understand," You started, treating a dragon like its a house lizard on your wall. "Its okay to not know how to." you giggled. 

The shocked silence that followed your words made you wonder if he really would just behead you now. Sukuna's jaw slacked, eyes narrowing at what you had just insinuated. His mouth tugged in a smile of disbelief. 

So arrogant. So fucking arrogant. 

The sky tilted as he pushed you backwards, until you were pressed under him, sprawled on the dew covered grass. Your heart hammered as he pinned you down, "What did you say?" he breathed, challenging you to repeat your words. He only had to use one hand to pin both your wrists over your head. 

You gulped, the warmth that flooded your body made you want to curl your toes. His inhuman form eating yours up entirely. And there he was, right how you wanted him. 

"N-nothing my lord," You played along, "I just-" 

You yelped as his fingers dug through your kimono, ripping the fabric until your breasts spilled out. The bite of the cool air causing your nipples to harden. 

Sukuna has soon realized that taming you was like trying to catch a cloud with his bare hands. All the strength and power he had acquired, simply did not matter. He had never expect the thrill he would find in that, of being so hopelessly wrapped around your finger. It drove him mad. You drove him absolutely mad.

"I have killed others for way less." He stated, dragging his fingers along your torso. You shivered involuntarily under his touch, eyes pulling up to meet his. Your breasts were laced with markings from last night. 

The animalistic need crawled up his throat. He won't admit how much he enjoyed it. How much he loved it, he loved your stupid arrogance, he loved how your unyielding eyes met his so brazenly, and the nimble fingers that touched him shamelessly. His fingers stopped right over your hips before sinking into your thighs. 

Dew seeped into the back of your kimono, your breath bating from the anticipation. 

He pushed them up, pressing them flush against your chest, exposing you to him completely. 

The sight of your pretty cunt sent blood rushing to his core. You presented to him so fucking perfectly, he would be lying if he had never thought of putting his tongue on your folds. feel that velvety heat clamp down his tongue as he prodded it deeper. Fuck him.

The only thing he didn't like was how fucking smug you looked. Enjoying having the king of curses kneel between her legs. 

"Such a fucking mess." he breathed, the strings of slick coating the inside of your thighs. "Just the thought of it has you this riled up?"

His fingers brushed against your folds parting them to slip his thumb in your gushing hole. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, walls squeezing around him immediately. Dragging his knuckles along your slick, and pressing his calloused palm flush against your core.  

The mouth on his palm licked you kittenishly, and you jumped,

Sukuna arched his eyebrow, "Not scared now are we?" he grinned, pushing his weight on you slightly. 

You kicked his chest jokingly, only for him to grab your ankle and yank you towards him. "I'm not letting you wriggled out of this one." he cooed. 

The pads of his fingers found your clit, "you're gonna take what I give you like a good little slut." 

Your arousal stuck to his palm as he teased you, wanting you to grind yourself against his hand. He liked seeing you under him, presenting for him so pretty.

In the moment he knew he was going to ruin you, bury his face in your cunt until you were crying from the overstimulation.

Sukuna dove into it straight away, dragging his rough tongue over your sloppy folds. The scent of your arousal consuming him entirely. He wasn't gentle with it, the sounds came out lewd and sick and your heels dug into his back. You felt him suck you, lips wrapping around your throbbing clit. 

"Fucking gushing like some common whore." He chuckled, spiting on your cunt before lapping it up. His tongue slipped into your entrance, the tip of his nose pressing into your clit. He ate you out like a depraved man, laughing at how wet you were. The sick pleasure of it all was too much for you already. You squirmed from the way he ate you out, his grip only tightening to keep you from moving too much. He used his teeth to pull at your sensitive skin, until your thighs were trembling with the simulation. 

Sukuna was having too much fun with your reactions, you were acting like he was touching your for the first time, a babble of incoherent words falling from your lips. "What?" he drawled, pulling away slightly, "Did I tongue fuck you dumb already?" He jeered, bringing his hand forward to slap your pussy. 

Just the impact pushed you over the edge, drawing your first orgasm easily and you came hard, back arching off the ground. Sukuna chuckled at your reaction, "impatient little cunt" He purred. You buckled as he continued to roll his thumb on your over sensitive clit, the movement deliciously rough. "I didn't say you could cum yet."

You tried to squeezed your thighs "P-please." You managed, 

"Hmm?" He asked, his breath still hot on your folds, "Is the slut begging me for more or begging me to stop?" 

He manhandled you unto all fours, the remaining fabric of your soiled kimono hanging off your waist as your fingers dug into the soft earth, desperate to grab at something. The position was even more embarrassing than before. The cold air hit your folds and you squirmed from the lack of attention. If only Sukuna's could be satiated from looking at you, ass up and face down, practically begging him to have his way with you. Your arousal dripped down between your legs impatiently. 

His hands groped at the swell of of your hip, spreading you apart, eyes pinned on your gushing hole. 

"Tell me what you want me to do." He stated, his voice edged with something you couldn't place. 

The confusion from his sudden change of gait had you spluttering, "I- uh-" His mouth parted over your skin, the kiss uncharacteristically gentle, teeth only tentatively pulling at your tender skin. You could hear the grin in his voice as he growled, "Command me woman."  

The way he said it send a chilling thrill down your spine. You turned your head back, throwing a look of absolute defiance back at him. "Use your fucking tongue to please me." you stated, your voice ringing out with pure desire. It was a command in every sense of the word, beckoning even the kind of curses to kneel. Sukuna groaned in response to your tone, all of it going straight to his cocks. He was hard with just the way you had said it, audacious, like you had a leash around his neck already. 

He hungrily flattening his tongue against you hot cunt, feeling your throb for him desperately against his tongue. 

The only slut he'd ever let command him. 

Your eyes rolled back as he pushed his tongue in deeper, eating you out like a depraved man. Tongue liking up stripes from your entrance to you clit, in strokes where you could feel him spell out his name. It was messy and hot making you want you grind yourself against his face, but the grip on your hips kept you in your place, stopping you from humping his face like some bitch in heat. 

The pleasure continued to build, unlike anything you had felt before. The way your pleasure built in you felt weird this time, a painful pressure like you were about to burst from the inside out. 

"I-i can't-" you moaned in pleasure as he spanked you hard, palm leaving a biting mark on your hip. Your knees buckled from the impact as he brought his palm to collide against your ass again and again. Sending a jolting spark of pleasure down your spine, making you squeeze hard around his tongue. 

"Somethings-" you tried, the orgasm feeling different this time, the knot in your stomach snapped as it rolled into you with an unanticipated waved of pleasure. 

You actually saw stars, juices gushing out uncontrollably as you squirted on his tongue. Sukuna stopped holding you up, and the exhaustion made you collapse on the soft earth. 

Your release had drenched him, the taste still curling in his mouth. Sukuna's eyes pinned on our spent form, your entrance twitched as the slick pooled between your legs. Your pretty clit stull hard as if begging him to fuck you now. 

fucking hell, he grinned, that was fucking hot.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. You're doing that again. The high of the pleasure made the blood roar in your ears, all you wanted to do was bury your face until sleep enveloped you. He chuckled, enjoying how dishevelled you looked in the moment. 

The world tipped off its axis as he threw you over his shoulder. Hell, if he knew you could do that, he would have buried his face in your sweet cunt wayy earlier. 

FULL PLAYLIST HERE

CRYING I FINALLY CAME AROUND TO WRITING THESE SERIES.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Taglist: @elenor222 @yaeshima

[hyukascampfire]

𝒯𝑂: 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑀 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐶𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐸 ༉

𝓘N THIS STORY 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 7.5k

pairings faerie!taehyun x human!reader

warnings violence, blood is drawn, some heated kissing and groping, a magic spell is placed over a human character, fem reader, mentions of violence, animal death

playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

…🪶 ashlynn's note okay i am actually so obsessed with a icy and mean taehyun. like genuinely it is rotting my brain. lmaooo

⑊ →

The stale reek of the ancient, crumbling palace walls makes it feel like they are closing in on you. You trail only a foot behind the odd goblin spy. He treats you with quiet. He’s relatively short in stature and quite grubby, worrying his hands while he walks. You have plenty of reasons to be scared of him; a royal spy, no doubt lethal in skill, who could probably spin around and end your life the second he decided he didn’t like you. But you aren’t scared of him—no, your brain is quintessentially human, and more worried about whether or not the rest of them would find you up to their standards when you arrive where he takes you.

Growing up among the folk was, in an understatement, challenging. They were of a different nature. They did not understand the rules of the human world, and could never understand your resentment for being spirited away. Most would argue that it was a blessing, that you would one day grovel at the feet of the faerie that had stolen you here all those years ago. Resentment bloomed like a potent seed in your mind each time Nut-hatch made you sew the gowns she couldn’t manage until your fingers were bleeding and sore. Because, who wouldn’t adore a life spent at the beck and call of the faerie that snatched you right from your cradle?

You trip over a loose, fractured stone, reaching out for a wall to catch yourself. Palm stinging, you hiss. Re-steadying yourself, you spin the hand over to inspect the burning scrapes. Blood wells around shallow white trails where stone had bitten skin, but you kick your legs back into motion. The goblin does not bother to wait for you. You expect that he’d just continue walking if you don’t.

“And you expect to be a spy,” the goblin laughs, a throaty and irritating sound, “crying over a scuff.” He does not even turn around to address you, but you can’t say you expected him to. You had done nothing to earn his respect. You are going to change that.

Instead of defending yourself or making yourself sound pathetic, you just stop nursing the scrape and let the sound of footfalls fill the air. The walk is long, and you find your mind wandering off to agonize over the different ways that this could play out. Many of them do not end well. You squeeze your eyes shut, gulping down a swallow despite the tightness in your throat. When you feel your foot catching on flat ground again, nearly toppling forward, your eyes lurch open. Don’t close your eyes walking down the halls of decrepit old castles, genius. 

He makes a stop a few feet ahead of you, just before a towering, ornate, and no doubt heavy elmwood door. The metal handles are scuffed with well use to the point that they are utterly dull and reflect little light, and there are four long gashes that splinter the wood. Wild gashes like that could only have been carved by a beast of Faerie origin. 

“So, this is the entrance?” you ask, catching up to him. You gesture at the door ahead. 

He levels you a stare, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. A yellowed canine, so sharp it would pierce your jugular like a knife through sweet cream, peeks out. You squirm under his glare, those yellow eyes scrutinizing you for a moment. 

“More like this,” he says simply, looking pointedly to a slate tile at his feet.

You sigh. You suppose you should’ve inferred that the entrance of a royal spy den is not just a door with no visible locks or veiling. You watch as he dislodges the loose tile from the ground with practiced ease, a heavy hunk of stone that reveals beneath it a set of stairs leading down into the ground. The palace they had decided to conceal the den within is no doubt timeworn, but the staircase you look at now seems much newer. The stone is significantly less worn and eroded, save for the dirt that cakes the tops of each step. Wafts of earth and root greet your nose.

You frown at the prospect of heading down without even so much as a torch on the wall. It’s hollow and black down there, leaving you to only imagine where a root or pebble might steal your balance and send you down who even knows how far. “How deep is that staircase?” you ask. The goblin had already begun descending, pausing at the third step with visible impatience. 

“Oh, just get down here, won’t you?” he grumbles. “This damned stone is heavy.” You observe the utter pitch black of the stairwell for a moment, considering all the awful possibilities, before relenting and descending into it. Stone grinding and light weaning to nothingness tickle nerves up your spine as he slides the coverstone back over the entrance. 

“I can’t see,” you say, words falling out into the thick, muddy air. Perhaps obvious, but how are you supposed to walk? He curses you out under his breath before he grabs you by the meat of your arm with gnarled, calloused fingers, tugging you forward and down. You protest as you almost slip off the ledge of a step, stumbling down each descending one for a few moments until you come to another stop. The floor here is softer beneath your feet, no longer stone. You sit in waiting for whatever he is doing in the pitch black. You do not question him again. It’s better to not come off as any more incapable than you already had made yourself look, considering your goals. Your stomach is tied in such tangled up knots that you don’t know how to act right; how to act like the capable spy that you had painted yourself to be in order to even end up in this decaying palace. You wonder if he is second guessing his decision in even bringing you here. You hold your head up a little more, squaring your shoulders. If you act sure of yourself, you’ll appear that way.

A resounding pattern of knocks bounces off the dirt walls surrounding you two, and the sound of muffled words spoken follow. A soft yellow light luminates your surroundings as a peephole slides open. You blink your eyes to readjust, taking in your surroundings for the first time since that stone snuffed the light out. A rickety, rotting wood door stands before you, oddly shaped to fit the round, burrowed out dirt hollow. The light filtering in from behind the door disappears when somebody peeks through it. No words are even exchanged before a metal sliding bolt cues the unlocking of the round door, and it swings open. You squint your eyes in the light.

“This is her?” A reedy faerie stands holding the door open, her skin a pale green and with an iridescent sheen to it. The hood from the cloak around her shoulders is tugged over her head, but you can see the way she takes you in even through the shadow it casts. 

“Something wrong?” the goblin asks, shoving his way past the long-limbed sprite. You stay put, not sure whether or not they’d like you just barreling your way in behind him.

She scrutinizes you for a moment longer, shrugging. “No,” she answers, lips pursed, “just a bit…” The sprite hesitates on the wording before finishing,“Underwhelming?” She leaves the door to follow him in. You gnaw at your cheeks. You are used to being lackluster—You were raised from infancy here, in a world of creatures that are beauty incarnate. Humans could be beautiful, yeah. But it was not the beauty of starless nights for eyes, nor of flower-petal skin, and never hair of twinkling, gold-spun strands. Human beauty could only ever exist in the four-walled prison of facial symmetry and physical attraction. Even the most gritty of the folk had a certain air of ethereal about them, worted and twisted as they may be. You resent them for it; resent the way your skin and hair dull beside them, becoming something mundane and underwhelming.

Their little hideout is humble. It smells of old wood, and furniture is minimal. The two of them sit down at a square table to the center of the room, leaving three other seats empty. You mull over whether or not simply taking a seat next to them would be offensive before just shoving your nerves down with a foot long stick and sitting. To convince them that you’re a needed part of their team, you’ve got to act the part. An indelible spy does not wonder whether or not a seat is for them, they know it is theirs. However you may try to play an act, though, you’re sure that they can see how the scars that decorate your fingertips are more from pricks of a sewing needle than they are of blades and combat. The sprite girl tugs her hood off her head, revealing a head of tousled white hair except for horizontal stripes of black that decorate some chunks. Her eyelashes are chunky, spidery, and curled, so long they tickle her brow with each blink, and they frame her grass-green eyes. She doesn’t look far off from the insect that she shares her name with. Regarding you, she sits nonchalant and kicked back in the chair, worn boots up and criss-crossed on the table. 

“This is the place where you’ll meet us,” she says, addressing you finally. She wiggles a foot as if this conversation is the last she’d like to be having.

You pause inwardly—you had thought this would be some sort of rugged test of skills, not an initiation.

She continues. “You’ll meet the others whenever they—”

You cut her off. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my qualifications?” 

She quirks a delicate brow, speaking for her just as well as words might.

 “Or, like, test me? Or something?” you continue. The two of them share a look, before breaking out into snorts and giggles. You shift in your seat, frowning. There was nothing funny about your questions.

“We would have never even brought you down here if we didn’t already decide on you,” the sprite girl says, and then gestures at the goblin, “We heard plenty of you from Gristle.” 

The goblin sputters to explain himself, embarrassed how the sprite had made it seem like he was raving. Gristle is his name, then. “We needed a human counterpart,” he says, pointing a clawed finger at the sprite girl. “Nobody else was doing the heavy lifting in recruiting. You try and see how it is, then,” he huffs, voice gravelly. “We needed one, and I brought you one.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, voice softening to a tone reminiscent of soothing a tantruming toddler. “You sure did.” She flexes her booted foot to point in your direction, “But did you bring us a competent one?” 

You cross your arms across your chest, narrowing your eyes. “I’m plenty competent,” you say. Sure, you are the servant girl of a busy seamstress faerie, but you need to make something more of yourself in one way or another. You could learn anything, if it meant that. “You don’t have to worry about me running off and telling anybody anything.”

She barks a laugh, as if the notion was ridiculous. “Well, I should know that, because I assume you value your life well enough.” She lets her feet drop off the table, prowling toward you on legs a bit too long for her body, before sliding an ornate dagger from its sheath at her hip and brandishing it to you. “But could you even hold your own if someone engages you out in the field?” She then drives the blunt, thick pommel end of it into your chin. Your head snaps back with the force of the strike, and you can feel by the warm trickle of blood that it had busted your chin open. 

You look at her, wild-eyed and accusatory. Your jaw aches as you open your mouth to ask, “What was that?” A trail of thick blood runs down your neck, and she just scoffs.

“Figures.” The sprite sheaths the dagger, dropping back into her seat unceremoniously as if she did not just bash you in the chin. 

“I don’t know how to fight yet,” you say, wiping at your neck. You bring your hand up to check the damage, hissing through your teeth as you prod around the gash. You shake your shoulders as if it would shake off the searing pain running up and down your jaw before adding, “But I can learn. I will learn.” Gristle tosses you a rag he had retrieved silently from a drawer, his mouth pulled taut into a line. You wipe up the remnants of the blood, the metallic tang of it finally reaching your nose. You shudder as you press the rag to the wound and hold it there. 

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” Gristle cracks, his grin toothy. “We weren’t going to find humans who could already fight,” he says, a fur-tipped ear twitching, “but one willing to learn…” He looks at you, and then returns his gaze to the sprite. “We can work with that, Cricket.” When her face stays drawn, he repeats, “We can work with it.” His yellow saucer eyes are serious.

Cricket doesn’t say anything; her grassy eyes simply go distant with thought for a moment. It was true: humans are not brought to the world of Faerie to learn to fight. Or to be anything more than servants, at that. The luckiest ones, like you, are at the very least schooled on reading and faerie histories. Lucky would be an overstatement, though. Nobody stolen from their homes and then forced to accept a reality in a foreign world is genuinely lucky. Despite it, you no longer dream of the life you could’ve had in the human world. It is not your life. It will never be your life. And, considering the look that Cricket and Gristle share, your life is now to be the human counterpart of a royal band of spies. 

“Do you know how an oath works?” Cricket asks, pulling out that same embellished dagger and spinning it between two fingers. You hesitate before nodding. You don’t, and she seems to read right through you. She narrows her eyes at you. 

“First of all, don’t lie. Never lie. We have to be able to trust each other.” She says, still spinning that glittering dagger utterly nonchalant. “You’ll want our trust when you’re on the field and need your back covered. Not knowing how to officiate an oath is one thing,” she stops spinning the blade to point it at you, “lying to me is another.”

 You shake off the embarrassment that crawls up your throat. “I’m sorry. I want you guys to trust me.” 

“Trust is especially important with you,” she says. It’s true. Humans can lie blatantly with their mouths. The folk could twist truths to deceive, and bend over backwards to make one thing sound like another, but they could not just lie. In your schooling years, you were taught that a lie is simply against faerie nature. You had laughed at that—if anything seemed to be in faerie nature, it was lying.

 “We can start our trust”—she gestures with one finger between you and herself—“off on the right foot with a geas.” Taking your arm that does not hold the rag, she tugs it toward her.

You struggle with the word geas. A geas is a faerie ensorcellment the folk dearly love subjecting humans, who did not know any better, to. They sweet-talk them into it, and when the human was fully ensorcelled, the human becomes a living plaything to make dance unabashedly and kiss the dirt off their boots. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

“An oath and a geas are not interchangeable,” you say, wary and preparing to take your arm back. “Which is it?”

 “An oath means nothing to a human.” She looks to Gristle for support, “Right or wrong?”

“Leave me out of it.” 

Cricket rolls her eyes. “We just have to get some type of way to ensure that I won’t have to tie up loose ends.”

A knock rings through the room, the same rhythmic knock that Gristle had performed on the door. Gristle clambers over to the door and slides the peephole open. 

“Decided to show up to do your work today?” Gristle says through the peephole, before sliding the hatch open. You look away from the door before seeing who enters as Cricket grows impatient, spinning your arm so that your palm is facing the roof. She takes her dagger and slides it across the delicate skin. You try to reclaim your hand, but she holds it steady and slides a slit across her own palm. 

“Are you guys trying to bleed me for every drop I have?” you protest. You could probably count the amount of wounds you’ve been inflicted with since stepping into the palace on two hands. She clasps your hands, mushing together the wounds still seeping blood. 

You had forgotten about the knock at the door until a new voice with a deep and silvery quality to it asks, “Trying to do it before I could get here, Cricket?” The voice travels from behind you to in front of you, and the man who owns it comes into view. He is relatively tall, towering over Gristle and quite a bit taller than Cricket. His hair is dark, hanging over a pair of sharp eyes that glare daggers at the sprite. You thank all things good that he is not leveling you with that icy smolder. You notice quickly that his ears are the distinct rounded form of a human’s ear. 

“This is Taehyun.” Cricket gestures with an exasperated arm. If the roundness of his ears is not already telling, the name is. He was human. You frown, retracting your hand.

“I thought you guys were looking for a human counterpart? That you had no human piece?” 

The quickness that Cricket is trying to get a geas over you is already unnerving, but now they are lying about the circumstances of your recruitment?

Cricket gives Taehyun a look that could match the heat of a thousand suns. His face is stony in response to it, utterly unmoved. Gristle does not make so much as a peep. 

“Taehyun,” she says while she takes your wounded hand into her own again, “is faerie.” 

“What about his ears, then?” You make a gesture around your own ear, one that drags along the round curve of it. Faeries were not born with rounded ears, not the goblins, nor the hobs, nor brownies, not even ones that are the most humanlike in nature. You have seen folk with knives for teeth, skin of boulders, hair from ear to clawed foot, but never rounded ears. It was another intrinsic piece of their nature; what set you apart from them. He was absolutely a human, and they were absolutely not telling you the truth. They had to have spoken their words in a way that made one thing seem like another, spun truths into lies. It was the faerie way. You would not be magically compelled by liars.

Taehyun’s face flashes with the first emotion you had seen since he arrived, but it is muddled and hard to read. 

Cricket scowls deeper, telling you, “He is not a human.” 

Taehyun gets in closer, his eyes venomous. “You know how I feel about that shit.”

 You try to decipher whether he meant being human, or the geas, but his next words solve it for you. “And you were going to try and do it before I could say anything.” When Cricket opens her mouth to say something, he cuts her off, “Don’t you say that’s not true.” 

Cricket turns to you, decidedly not responding to Taehyun. “I want the geas, because it will make us feel safer. I swear on the Mighty King’s life that I will not use it to control you in any way, other than to keep your mouth shut about our operations. You will not hear another thing of it from this day forward, anyway.” Her words are proof enough of her honesty, plain and so obvious in their wording that she could not be twisting her truths around a lie. She means what she says, or else she would not be able to say it. “Would it make you feel better if you were the one to make it, Taehyun? Would you just seal your lips and let us move on from this?” She asks. Gristle feels the tension as bad as you do, so thick in the air you could choke on it, making himself busy sliding a blade down a sharpening stone.

Taehyun does not respond, his black eyes conveying exactly how he feels about that. You attempt to ease the atmosphere while also catering to your own curiosities. “How is he a faerie, with rounded ears? That doesn’t… exist.”

Taehyun’s eyes flicker at the topic of his ears again. “Well, it seems you don’t know all that you think you do about Faerie then, huh?” he spits before spinning and disappearing down a hall that leads further into the spy den, long legs clad in black striding near silently beneath him. The words crawl under your skin successfully. You could spend your whole life here, and still the folk would see you as foreign. It makes you want to make that geas, to make something of yourself. To be a spy, and make them see that you are so much more than what Nut-hatch told you that you are destined to be; A servant to the superior beings. To make him chew his words, because you know plenty about this foul world, and how to live in it. If anything was true, it was true that you know more about it than him. 

You turn to Cricket, more determination in you now than you even had when you pledged your case to Gristle. “I’ll take the geas. I’ll do whatever it takes to become a competent piece of your team, I swear it. I know my words don’t carry much weight to you, but please, let me show you that I mean them.” Cricket grins, tightening her hand to yours, tilting her head to one side and batting her spiky lashes at you. 

“I knew you were a smart girl.” She taps you on the nose, before her expression drops to a more solemn one. The headiness of faerie enchantment tugs at the sides of your vision, turning it wavy and magnified about the edges. You feel it thread through the air, and then spread from your palm to your arm, and then all over, under your skin, like an itch, and in your head, like potent faerie wine. It lasts for a moment’s width longer, before you blink it away. She drops her hand from yours. 

“You will not speak of this team, nor its dealings, to anybody I do not authorize, and are, from this exact moment forward, unable to reveal the location of this den.” You shudder under the gravity of knowing that your autonomy is vulnerable and in her hands. Was it ever truly yours to have, though? Faerie glamour and enchantments on humans are unpunishable, and often seen as entertainments. Is a geas permanent? You shove back that worry; it’s too late now.

Gristle whistles a descending tone, finally making himself known again. “This place, we call Homebase. Or, The Hole. Whichever you prefer,” he gestures around, and you take in the shoddy ceiling, the make-shift kitchen, and the weapons strewn about every surface. Definitely a spy hideout. “There are a few others for you to meet. They come and go; but you’ll be staying here, I understand?”

 You nod. He knew about your situation with Nut-hatch already.

“Okay, then. Let’s get you a room.” He hobbles to that hallway Taehyun had stormed down, his gold-embroidered cloak dragging on the floor behind him. You follow, scoping out the scenery. 

“Do the others not stay here?” you ask. You two continue down that same hall, the smell of underground musk still heavy. That would take you some getting used to. 

He grunts in affirmation. “Whoever you met today, stay here. The others dwell elsewhere, for some reason or another.” He stops at a room, and opens the door. The room is ornate in contrast with the other rooms of The Hole, the bedding plush and made of fine threads. It was not anything overly extravagant, but perfectly fit for a spy of The King. It is better than sleeping in the sweltering-hot attic of Nut-hatch’s cottage, you decide, appreciating the cool and damp air. And here, they decide that you are worthy enough of your own room. That is more than enough for you.

 “But, you’ll meet them tomorrow, no doubt. Make this room your own, I’ll fetch some more fitting garments for you,” he gestures down to the simple linen frock you adorn. You feel the odd tickle of embarrassment at the back of your mind. The irony of your attire, while living under the roof of an esteemed seamstress, is hard to ignore. Nut-hatch had always liked to scold you up and down that there is no need to look frilly working a gown shop, while simultaneously being dressed in ribbons and lace. You take a deep breath of linen-scented air, and then release it. And then, you get to making the room your own. 

❆

You do your best to plant your booted foot to the ground, to save yourself from anxiously toeing dirt or stone. The clothes they had brought for you were odd and foreign as someone who only wore the most efficient of dresses and leather slippers for the entirety of her life leading up to this moment. The hooded cloak bunches around your neck and shoulders, stifling. The boots at your feet are so heavy and chunky that they chastely kiss the ground when you step. The sensation of pant legs securing your thighs and shins is the most suffocating, and the weight of the weapons secured by straps are heavier than you’d ever expected them to be. And, to top it all off beautifully, your first assignment is with Taehyun. You’re supposed to be heading north, to the land of the Northern Queen, where the folk are Unseelie, and are said to be the most vicious. You’d already let that thought sink in, though. Now, all you can mull over is spending the trip with Taehyun; the contempt he had regarded you with before he left last night is still fresh in your mind.

Lightweight footsteps approach behind you, and you know it’s Taehyun. He plops a full pack on the ground wordlessly before tugging the hood of his mantle up and over his head. He is, like yesterday, fashioned in a black tunic and a matching doublet, embroidered with silver threads at the lapel and cuffs, a heavy bow strapped to his back. Maybe a bit flashy for days of traveling by foot, but maybe you also have no idea what flashy actually means. 

You cross your arms over your chest, before gesturing to the bag you had already packed for yourself. “I packed.” 

He sends you a vacant look. “Put that one back,” he tells you. The air is so tense that you consider just doing it, but his tone ruffles your feathers. 

“I have stuff that I want to bring in mine.”

He doesn’t respond, his face locked and static.

“Look,” you huff, “I know you don’t respect me yet, but I’m trying my best to become competent, you know?” 

“I respect you.” He picks up the pack he brought for you and dusts the bottom off. “You would freeze to the core in the north without the stuff packed in here. Competence is nothing to a corpse.” 

You blink at the bluntness of his words and press your mouth into a thin line, before dropping your original bag on the table and slinging the other over your shoulder. You gesture for him to lead the way with a restrained sigh, and he does so without falter.

The beginning of your mission starts off on a lovely foot.

❆

There is plenty of time to mull over what you would be doing in the north as Taehyun leads you through the lushness of the forest. The hum of insects and nearby streams and the cloying scent of summer-warmed bush berries reign supreme. When your stomach begins to rumble for not having eaten all day, you stop by a bush with exceptionally heavy branches and begin picking. The juice of the berries is thick and golden like honey when they mush between your fingers, and it glitters in the odd way that all Faerie fruit does. 

“Are you dull?” Taehyun’s voice, thick with contempt, makes you jump and lose a few from your handful of berries. “That is a Goldhip bush,” he says, his brows pinched, “you would die without a sign; just drop dead to the grass.”

Blinking, you drop the rest to the floor, wiping the glazed juices off on your pant leg.

He scoffs, spinning and heading the same way he had been going before you decided to grab fistfuls of, apparently, intensely poisonous berries. You follow him, shaken. 

“I had no idea,” you say, mostly to yourself, but he stops, turning on you. 

“You can’t afford having no idea out here. Either you step up to your role, or you die.” He gives you a long look before turning back around and stepping over a felled log. 

You step over the log as well. “I didn’t really have any reasons to know your poisons in my old life,” you say. Nut-hatch had at least fed you well, and you were never set out scavenging off berries with an empty belly. You set your pace so that you are parallel to him instead of trailing him. “What are the ones I should know?” 

He doesn’t even pause to think for a moment. He knows them like the back of his own hand. “Goldhip berries are turned into a liquid extract, and dropped into drinks. It doesn’t have a smell, but has a notorious sweet taste. It doesn’t matter by the time you taste it, though; you’re as good as dead.” A chill burrows its way under your skin. You had been so close to death; had you just popped a berry into your mouth, you would be dead right now. 

“How would you even avoid being poisoned by that, then?” 

“You don’t,” he deadpans. “It’s why you have to stay always painfully aware of your surroundings. Always.” You nod.

“Silver and salt are poison to the folk. They singe the skin, and when ingested, they decay the insides. It’d be best if you use that to your advantage. A poison harmless to you, but deadly to another, is an asset.” You clasp your hands and thank the sky inwardly at that. It feels like an ah-hah moment, to have something over the folk. Small mercies. 

“Human poisons don’t work on the folk at all. So, whatever you remember from your old life won’t serve you here.”

Old life? You have no old life. “I was raised here,” you say, keeping the hurt that tugs at your features on a tight leash. “I was in Faerie before I could even walk.” 

You watch as his face falters, sunlight filtering through tree leaves dappling his features and highlighting his nose. He is beautiful, like all fae are. He only nods in acknowledgement, but you can tell he tucks the information away.

He presses forward. “Hunter’s Bane is a milled-up tree leaf that inebriates, and fizzes up the drink it is sprinkled into. Not deadly, but the state it leaves you in could be. Deadly Pinchweed is ground up as well, and leaves a green tint—and is deadly. Lachrymose is a faerie fruit. As I’m sure you know, it makes a human agreeable and fogs their mind. It’s usually not prepared in any special way, just fed to glamoured humans.” 

The name of the fruit brings back the memory of a boy, a bit older than you, who at a particularly wild revelry was fed faerie fruit, and buttered up by folk who thought it would be exceptionally humorous for the boy to make an audience with The King. Of course, the boy did, spewing nonsense at the foot of the dais, before going to wrap The King in a hug. A guard shot an arrow through his heart. He could not have been older than sixteen. Nut-hatch barred you from any form of revelry after that; she couldn’t spare her hard-raised shop worker over some faerie fruit. You fold the memory up neatly, compacting it so that you can keep it vibrant and alive in your mind. You solidify, in that memory, that Taehyun and every other wretched creature of his kind, would hardly blink twice to see you die such a death. 

❆

Taehyun kindles a small but mighty fire with dry twigs and pine needles; they catch quickly and roar into blazing life. You settle onto the ground, propping your back against a gnarled trunk and try to breathe out the ache in your back. You miss the way the mattress back at home base had cradled your body into sleep, and abhor the dirt and foliage that sticks to your pants and palms where they meld with the ground. 

Taehyun’s voice, returning from his last round of searching for pine needles, startles you. “Get up.”

 You shoot him a look that, hopefully, channels all your exhaustion. “I just sat down,” you tell him, exasperated. 

“If you’re hungry, get up,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. He has ditched his mantle cloak and his doublet, and now is only in his simple black tunic, its sleeves rolled to his elbows. He’s serious, then. 

You huff and complain, but stand up and dust off your palms and pants from the needles that stick to them. The especially deep indents itch a bit, and you soothe them as you follow him promptly into the thicker part of the woods. 

“Lighten your feet,” Taehyun commands, his voice low, as a third twig snaps under your foot. You wince and try to replicate the lightness of his walk, but it makes no difference. If anything, your gait is more off than before now that you overthink it. Taehyun stops walking, pointing to his feet, before slowly demonstrating his footfalls. “Tense your legs, and keep your weight on your back foot until the other is fully on the ground.”

You oblige, and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as it works. Your steps come lighter, and dodging crunching foliage easier. It reminds you of how a stalking beast might make itself light and airy while it watches and hunts.

The two of you continue through the shrubbery and low-hanging branches until Taehyun pauses, placing a finger over his lips. You see it now, too; a plump pheasant that pecks at the foliage, none-the-wiser. Taehyun reaches for his bow, and notches an arrow. He pulls the bowstring taut, centering his shot, and the arrow sings as he lets it fly. 

The thud of the arrow piercing the pheasant makes your stomach flip. The pheasant cries, the arrow having pinned its wing and pierced through its stomach, but not killed it instantly. You avert your eyes as the scene burrows under your skin. Your heart sinks heavy like stone in water. Taehyun bounds over to the still squawking bird with hurried steps, and the sound of metal unsheathing is followed by a loud final cry and then silence. You go rigid, nails biting your palm. You do not open your eyes, even as Taehyun announces in a whisper that he spots a second bird. The pheasant’s final cries bounce off the walls of your mind, reverberating and driving a stake into your hurting heart more with each echo.

❆

Taehyun ended up catching two other pheasants on the way back to the temporary campsite. You watch as they roast over the fire, yellow flames licking at their lightly charring bodies. Taehyun takes one off, passing it to you on a stick whittled sharp at the end. You shake your head, queasy at the thought of eating it. 

He delivers you nothing but a cold resolve. “Respect its life.” He holds the stick there for you to take once more. 

“I’ll throw up,” you say, shaking your head again and wrapping your arms around your stomach. 

He barks a laugh. “This is ridiculous.” He lets the stick drop back over the fire, and you flinch as embers flurry up into the air and narrowly miss you. Attitude flares up in your chest and you go to say something smart-mouthed, but before you can, he continues, “Go back, if you’re just going to become a waste of my time. You think you’re a spy under The King? You’re a spoiled brat who believes life should be handed to her. If you wanted that, this was not the life to choose.”

You reel at the bite in his voice. His words cut right where it hurts. “You think so?” you say, willing back the hot tears that prickle your eyes. They would only prove his case. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know that you don’t know shit about being a spy,” he says, standing up. “I know that you’re weak and for some reason think you’re ready for a world that is going to kill you, and that you should probably be on your way back to Homebase to tell them you were never cut out for this. Save us both the time and effort.” 

You’re up to your feet in an eye’s blink, closing the space between you two. “Humans don’t have the privilege of being spoiled brats in your world,” you hiss. The warm sensation of a tear rolling down your cheek has you hoping that he doesn’t notice, and you reach up to wipe it away quickly. You curse being an angry crier. “I’m doing what I can with what I have. Just teach me what I need to learn, and I’ll learn it.” 

“Eat the damn pheasant, then.” he urges, like a wild, roaring beast in a delicate bauble shop. 

You laugh an exhausted laugh. “I’ve never killed something, and then eaten it. It's… I think it’ll take me some time to get used to it. Just give me some time, yeah?” Your mind urges you to scream that the standards he is holding you to are unfair, that the two of you lived very different lives, and that you are going on this mission regardless of his haughty attitude, but you tidy those emotion-fueled words into something that he might like more.

He goes quiet. You sit for a moment, too, stewing in all your rehashed hurt. It isn’t just that he’s treating you like a burden, or the low-blows he seems to keep opting for. He’s unknowingly cutting down to your deepest worries, rubbing salt in the wound, that maybe you are never going to amount to anything more than a servant girl. 

He unsheathes the longsword at his back, getting into a solid stance. “Show me you can be strong, then.” You hesitate. You’ve never so much as swung a sword, and the weight of it is heavier than you’d expect as you unsheathe it. The metal hisses, and the handle of it is solid and plainly decorated in your palm. You replicate his stance, and shift the weight of the sword awkwardly in your hand, trying to find your grip

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you say, palms a bit sweaty against the cold metal, rocking in your stance. He swings hard, and the force of it colliding with your sword jolts you. It flies from your hands. You panic, frozen to the ground as he swings again. Your heart lurches as you realize he isn’t going to pull his swing. 

Wind whooshes as his sword stops just by your face. He leaves it there, pointed right at your nose. “Pick it up,” he cocks his head toward your sword. You stare at him, wide-eyed, as you oblige. You both reset your stance, him barking commands every time he finds your stance or swing to be flawed. You accept his criticism with open arms—it is better than disdain painting his features. 

You grit your teeth. You’re sheened in sweat, tugging for deep breaths, and your limbs are slow to recover from each blow he sends you. You’re twisting, dodging, and parrying how he tells you, but it's sloppy, and you have to summon your energy from already low reserves for each. His skin is irritatingly free of sweat and of a cold and pristine quality. It only comes to your attention now with your new proximity how much looks like frost twinkles just under his skin. 

Your back collides with a tree you had not noticed Taehyun was backing you into, air escaping your lungs in a big whoosh. He gains on you, pressing the long edge of his sword so that it sits mind-numbingly close to your neck. You pulse rushes frantically, heart beating from your chest in a nearly audible thudding. You continue to try and catch your breath. He swoops in so close that his breaths fan over your face. An emotion that you have a hard time reading flickers in his eyes, and then he’s slamming his mouth to yours. 

It’s a desperate clashing of teeth and lips. He lets his sword drop from your neck and to the ground, and he takes your face in his callous-roughened hands. Your own find purchase at his shoulders, tugging him closer as if he could be any more so. The sound that escapes you as his hand tangles into the hair at the back of your head and tightens, tugging your head back and pressing in with more fervor, is like none you’ve ever made before. 

When he pulls back for air, your vision swims around the edges, and is dappled with stars. He studies your face, and you’re suddenly more conscious than ever of how your cheeks burn and your lips are smeared with his kiss. He takes in your debased state. His eyes have more fire in them than you ever thought you’d see—swirling and ravenous, an innate need clawing to reach the surface . It’s a dizzying mixture of pure headiness and I shouldn’t be doing this. He dives back in, and each nip and lick at your neck is blazing. They electrify your veins and send shockwaves buzzing from the column of your throat and through your chest, zipping up and down every one of your limbs. You’re not even sure that, if Taehyun were to stop holding you fast to the tree, you would be able to stand on your wobbly and unreliable legs. 

“Taehyun,” you gasp, your voice sounding not entirely your own. “Taehyun.” 

“You piss me off so fucking bad.” He keeps one hand fisted at the back of your head, exposing your neck to him, but the other travels down your body experimentally. “And I have no idea why.” 

Your mind wants to reel and dwell on that, but he doesn’t let you. He wanders a hand about the hem of your shirt, and then he dares to go underneath it, and then he trails that cold hand up the plane of your abdomen. Your stomach flips. “Have,”–you gasp–“have you considered that maybe you’re just an asshole?” 

He draws back from ravishing your neck to give you a look, his eyes wild and untrained. It feels, for some odd reason, good to break down his impenetrable exterior—to puncture it down to where he is in his basest desires. Maybe it’s because you just need him to see you as something other than useless; to need you so badly that he forgets his contempt for you. He maintains eye contact as his thumb traces the swell of your breast, watches you gasp as he finds your nipple and rolls it under his thumb. His eyes set you ablaze, and he delights in the way you burn. 

“What, you’ve got nothing to say to that?” you say, meeting all the intensity of his gaze the best you can. You try to goad him into something; even if anger, so that he’ll soothe the pounding between your thighs. He does not entertain you, just regarding you with that same blistering intensity. Your scalp begins to ache with the relentless tug of his fist, and you whimper, your hands leaving their place in his tunic to grab at his hand. 

“You’re every bit the whiny brat I’ve known you to be,” he says. His voice is gravelly, as if even those few words were hard for him to formulate. Just as your chest had adjusted to the chill of his palm, he drags his fingertips back down your abdomen. The pads of his fingers rake over you, your skin prickling and alight. 

“And you’ve got every bit of faerie entitlement in you,” you hiss. His hand pauses just above the waistline of your bottoms, and every bit of untamed need carved into his features is dust in the wind within a heartbeat. You reel at the loss of warmth as he pulls away. You try to reach out for him, to tug him back and wipe that awful indifferent look off his face again. But he’s already kicking out the fire and propping himself up against a thick pine tree. Your stomach churns wildly as you set up your own sleeping situation. The silence is worse than any you’ve sat through—it’s charged with words better left unspoken, and heavy with the weight of your hands all over each other seconds ago. 

Sleep does not come easy to you, but when it does, you sleep dreamless and weary.

…🪶ashlynn's note how was thatttt? my first fanfic!! i've been looking forward to doing a high fantasy/faerie fanfic for sooo long. i'm sorry to leave you off like that but.. know that I am plotting, and planning. i'm already working on part 2, so stay tuned!!

﹙���️ ﹚ @lvrs-street2mmorrow if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[kitsuren]

DEMO // PLAYLIST

Flirting with Death is a 18+ Otome-like action dark romance in the form of an interactive fiction. The game focus will be mostly into character and relationships development, exploring how you interact with the world and the reactions to your decisions.​

Take charge of Eris, a newly (and forcibly) inducted operative of a shadowy organization, as she enters a world way more twisted from what she is already used to. 

The game will be released chapter by chapter and it will be entirely free after completion!

You died. For all your life, you have been making bad decisions after bad decisions and this time your luck ran out. During your years working with the wrong side of the law you had seen the good, the bad, and the ugly. What you never expected was that your choices would take you into a maze of lies and backstabbing capable to bring countries to their knee. Something big is happening and you are not in the small leagues anymore. To bring down titans you will have to ally yourself with the shady HADES Project, a group with dubious objectives and even more dubious reasons. In a race against time you will have to do the unthinkable before it is too late. There is no right or wrong in this game and the stake is your second chance in life. The clock is ticking. Grab your power suit. Gather your allies. And remember: Trust no one.

Play as a female gender locked protagonist;

Customize your Eris: decide on your past, specialization, appearance, and attributes, bringing your character to life;

Romance one of the 3 initial ROs, each of them having their own unique route that explore the story trough different perspectives;

Make  decisions that impact the people around you for the good or the bad;

Use state of the art never-seen-before technology, including your very own power suit so you will never die (again!) during a mission;

Choose between 5 classes that will assist you during the various dangers that will follow you and your team as you try to solve the mystery;

Be a a righteous vigilante or a complete menace to society;

Kick a billionaire in the face (or not)!

This game is rated +18. Not only it will touch on heavy subjects, but it will also contain: 

Graphic depctions of violence; Strong language; Unhealthy coping mechanisms; Guns and gun violence; Manipulation tactics; Explicit sex (if chosen); Taboo relationship; Toxic relationship; Mature content; (This list will be updated if and when necessary!)

Yes, the protagonist is gender locked: This is my first time coding an IF and I didn't want to bit off more than I could chew. Not only that, I wanted to mix the otome/josei genre with the interactive format. Maybe it will work, maybe not.

This game is a ROMANCE first and foremost: You will not be able to opt out of it. I am aware that some people are not fond of this type of content and yes, you as a player will have the choice to have (or not!) sexual content/pda, but you will not be able to get out of locking into a romantic route.

Cold, cynical, and incredibly sardonic, Phobos is all objective, giving up on any and all distractions and not being afraid to do whatever it is necessary for the greater good. His no-nonsense attitude and his constant tries to intimidate anyone into submission​ turned him infamous in the organization. His morality is almost black and he doesn’t care about the sacrifices that he needs to do to obtain the desired result. Killing for him is second nature, but most of times he will let Deimos talk him down from his murderous rampage. At least until he decides that the more approachable way is not being efficient anymore.

Friendly, good natured, and helpful. Everyone who knows Deimos has the impression that the man is not fit for this kind of work. He is well regarded by anyone across HADES and normally tries to resolve everything without violence, doing a really good work as a “face” in his Kerberos Unit. But don’t be mistaken, even preferring to not harm innocents, Deimos is a perfect killing machine, honed by his past to be the perfect assassin and torturer. He has an approachable personality, but when working he only focus on the job that needs to be done. Can be quiet work focused and hyper fixate on the mission, which feeds his insomnia.

With zero chills to give and almost always having and anxiety attack due to Phobos and Deimos shenanigans, his boyish appearance masks very well his personality and he constantly runs with the power of coffee and spite. As a handler he is extremely methodical and professional, being proficient with first aid, tech, engineering, and plan making, even if his ADHD tries as hell to hinder his plans. Being a genius, he mostly always lose patience with stupidity and prefer to work by himself. Chaos is the youngest handler in HADES history and by far one of the most respected, at least by name, since he is the only one capable to make Phobos and Deimos to actually shut up with just a glare.​ Can be a tad dramatic and fatalist, but he rarely is wrong. His favorite phrase is “I ain’t paid enough to deal with this shit” (Yes, he is.).

[syuga-s]

i made my fiancés tinder profile

w.c. 8.5k pairing. non-idol!jeon jungkook x fem!reader genre. cute and angsty friends to lovers <333 a/n. idk guys i wrote this like a month ago but I JUST GOT THE ENERGY TO POST IT so i apologize in advance if you find mistakes here and there, ALSO i made the playlist that inspired me to make this fic so i'll just leave it here if you want to give it a listen or save it don't look at my other playlists tho they're a mess 🦦

You always thought you were pretty good at giving dating advice. It’s easier when you’re not the one doing the dating, right? That’s how it all started with Jungkook. You two were chilling at your apartment one lazy Sunday afternoon when you suddenly blurted out, “Why are you still single, Jungkook? You’re amazing, good-looking, and fun. You should at least be on like three different dating apps.”

He laughed, running a hand through his hair in that effortlessly cool way he always did. “Dunno' just haven’t found the right person,” he said with a smile that made you heart do a weird little flip. “I don’t think I’m good at dating, haha.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you shot back, sitting up. “Let's make you an account. We’ll get you some matches in no time.”

He hesitated for a second, then shrugged. “Sure, let's do it.”

And that’s how you ended up setting up his profile, not realizing that this would be the beginning of the end of your denial and the start of a love story you never saw coming.

You grabbed his phone and he settled onto the couch next to you. “Okay, first things first. We need some killer photos. Let’s start with your main picture.”

You opened the camera app. You sat there, looking at his phone for a minute before he let out a loud laugh.

You looked up. “What is it?"

He grinned, pointing at something behind you. "It's just Tae taking a picture of us setting up a dating profile," Jungkook said, chuckling.

You turned around to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, holding his phone up with a huge grin on his face. "Don't mind me," Taehyung sang out, winking at the two of you. "Just capturing this for posterity."

Tae showed Jungkook the picture and a fit of laughter erupted again, now from the two of them. "Your face! You look so focused and super serious right now."

Rolling your eyes, you lightly smacked his arm. "This is serious business! We need to find the perfect picture to reel in all the potential matches."

Then you started browsing through his photo gallery to curate the most attractive selection of pictures.

There you had him on the gym doing weights, him on his boxing gear, with his dogs, him doing the dishes with a strangely tight black shirt, a few selfies on his car, with his motorcycle. You could sell a whole album with his photos, how on earth would you do him justice and only choose 10 of them?

"Why is this so hard?"

Jungkook chuckled. "Because you're not choosing photos for a profile, you're trying to find a reason to stare at me and my body for too long."

"Boy, I'm trying to help you here, and if I'm gonna do it, I might as well do this like a professional matchmaker." You retorted.

His eyebrows furrowed. "When have you ever paired someone up?"

You smiled smugly. "That's none of your business, Jeon."

"It is, actually, since you're helping me with this thing."

"Fine, if you must know, I hooked up one my friend's older sister with my college roommate."

"Really? How did that go?" He asked, curious.

"Pretty well, they've been together for a couple years now." You answered, still going through his photos.

"Wasn't your college roommate that guy with the blue hair?" He asked, his tone changing slightly.

"Uh-huh, why?"

"Wasn't he the guy you were dating during our third year?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that."

"How can you forget about him?" He sounded annoyed. "You spent an entire week crying in my bed because he broke up with you."

"Oh my god, did I? I don't recall." You were playing dumb, of course you remembered but there was no need to talk about that. "What do you think of this one?" It was a shirtless picture, point blank.

"I think you look kinda slutty but everyone's gonna eat it up, you'll get a date in no time." You continued.

"I am not posting a shirtless picture, are you crazy?" He snatched the phone from your hand.

"Well, it's not like we're gonna sell the damn picture, it's just your torso and the picture is really nice, you look good, I don't know why you're making such a fuss."

He didn't say anything, just looked at you.

"What? I'm complimenting you, it's the truth." You rolled your eyes.

"Okay, thank you." He was blushing.

"Are you blushing?" You asked, amused.

"No, it's just really hot in here." He took off his hoodie, throwing it somewhere in your living room.

You didn't even realize how close he was sitting next to you. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd been on your couch, but something felt different today. It was strange.

All the photos that you chose showcased different aspects of Jungkook's personality. Each photo told a story about him - his love for his dogs, his passion for staying active, his playful side with silly selfies. As you scrolled through his gallery, you couldn't help but notice the genuine smile on his face in many of the pictures, a smile that seemed to light up the whole world.

After him putting up a fight on choosing his favorite photos of him, next you had to write him something for his bio.

Jungkook leaned in closer to read over your shoulder.

"This is stupid, what do you want me to write? My name, my age, my occupation?" He was whining.

"Yes, those things obviously, but also things like, I don't know a joke or something to sum up your personality. I want them to know you're fun and cute, mind-blowingly good at everything, something along those lines."

"I am mind-blowingly good at everything." He said, his tone confident.

You rolled your eyes.

"So let's say, what if I write 'shit i'd date the hell out of me', you like it?" You asked him with a smile.

He laughed. "I do, I really do."

"Okay, it's settled." You wrote down the phrase, and a bunch of things about him.

"Now we just have to add something that will hook them up."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, just be honest. Just, don't write that you're looking for a girl to have sex with."

"But I am looking for a girl to have sex with." Blank expression on his face.

"You are so dumb sometimes." You threw a pillow at his face.

He caught it mid-air. "God, you know I'm not look— this was YOUR IDEA IN THE FIRST PLACE!" He yelled, trying to defend himself.

"Yeah, but, just write something that will make you look not like a manwhore."

He thought for a moment. "I know, I got it."

"Okay, shoot."

"I'm a manwhore." He had the brightest smile.

"Oh, for the love of..." You couldn't help but laugh at his antics. "Alright, fine. If that's what you want to go with, who am I to stop you?"

You two were done, and he was already getting notifications.

"Woah, that was... surprisingly fast." He was surprised, and you were proud of yourself.

"Of course, you're hot and cute. We don't see your type in dating apps very often."

He gave you a weird look, you couldn't quite figure out. "Thanks?"

"No worries, I'm sure you'll find someone in no time." You patted him on the back as you were getting up and ready to go to the kitchen and make some dinner. "See who you like and I'll help you on how to ask them on a date."

"Okay." He smiled.

"What are you smiling at? Are you looking at them already?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to see which one of these girls will be our first victim."

"Don't call them victims." You laughed.

The truth is that Jungkook only agreed to this because he loves spending time with you.

As you busied yourself in the kitchen, Jungkook couldn't shake the warmth spreading through his chest. He scrolled through the notifications on his phone, half-heartedly swiping left and right. His mind wasn't on finding a date; it was on you.

He couldn't believe he agreed to this. Making a profile on Tinder just to humor the best friend he was in love with, seemed harmless at first, but now, seeing the app light up with potential matches, he felt burdened. He wasn't here to date. He was here because he wanted to be closer to you, even if it meant pretending to search for someone else.

Each time a new message popped up, he found himself wondering if you'd approve. Would you laugh at the cheesy pickup lines together? Would you help him craft witty responses? He realized he didn't care about meeting any of these girls; he only cared about spending time with you.

But as much as he tried to focus on the dating app in front of him, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. To the way you laughed and teased him, to the way you always seemed to know what he needed even when he didn't realize it himself. Jungkook found himself longing for something he couldn't quite name, a feeling that stirred deep within him whenever he was near you.

He sighed, setting his phone down on the coffee table as he leaned back on the couch because he didn't bother looking through any of the profiles. Instead he made his way to the kitchen, where you were standing over a pot, stirring absentmindedly.

He stepped up behind you, watching as you stirred. His chest was warm, and he had a strange urge to wrap his arms around you and nuzzle his nose into your neck.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft.

You turned your head slightly, not looking at him but smiling. "Hey."

Jungkook took a step closer, placing his hand over yours. "Let me help," he said.

You handed him the wooden spoon, your fingers brushing against his in the exchange. He stirred the pot gently, mirroring the way he wanted to handle your heart. Neither of you spoke, the only sound filling the room was the clinking of utensils against the pot.

"You okay there?" Your voice broke through his daydreaming.

He answered you softly while running a hand through his hair nervously. "Yeah, just... thinking."

As the aroma of the dish wafted through the air, you felt his warmth seeping into you, comforting and familiar. You couldn't ignore the heavy tension that hung between you, thick like a fog.

He cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "So... what do we do now?" His voice was low, almost a whisper.

You turned around to face him, his eyes searching yours for answers neither of you dared to voice. "We eat dummy," you said with a laugh.

You and Jungkook sat down for dinner, the tension from earlier still lingering between you. As you ate, you caught each other stealing glances when the other wasn't looking.

"So...have you looked at any of the matches yet?" you asked, trying to break the silence.

Jungkook shifted in his seat. "A few, but no one really caught my eye," he said evasively.

You nodded, poking at your food. "Well if you see anyone you like, let me know. I want to help."

"Thanks, I will," Jungkook said with a small smile.

You returned the smile weakly, a pang in your chest at the thought of Jungkook dating someone else. You had pushed the feelings down for so long, not wanting to jeopardize your friendship. But your dumb decision of making him a dating profile forced you to confront how you really felt.

After you finished eating together, Jungkook helped you with the dishes. You dried off your hands, and he was ready to leave. Almost as if he was on a rush.

"Thanks for making dinner," he said with a smile.

You nodded. "Of course, you know I love having you over."

You stood at the door awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

Jungkook cleared his throat. "I'll text you," he said.

You gave him a thumbs-up, your voice coming out more high-pitched than normal. "Yeah, cool. See ya later."

He chuckled and leaned down to give you a hug. You wrapped your arms around him, breathing in his scent. You held him a little longer than necessary, wanting to memorize the feeling of his arms enveloping you.

Jungkook's hand lingered on your shoulder as he pulled away.

"Goodnight," he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek before he turned to leave. You watched him go, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. As the door closed behind him, you leaned against it, aching with the realization that you might have just pushed away the one person who meant more to you than just a friend.

If only you had the courage to do something.

The following week, you found yourself cleaning your house, the mess had piled up and you had a bunch of your clothes all over the place and that's when you found Jungkook's hoodie from last week. It had fallen between your couch and the wall, so you pulled it out with a considerable amount of force. That's when his iPod fell to the ground.

He still uses this thing? The corners of your mouth turned up involuntarily as you recalled teasing him about the ancient device.

You were surprised, most people uses their phones, or maybe he still has this thing because it was a present from you. If you hadn't seen it you wouldn't have remembered that you had given him this iPod for Christmas like 7 years ago.

You took the device in your hand and turned it on. You figured it would be nice to hear his playlists while you kept cleaning.

You should have just connected it and played it on shuffle. But I guess humans are very nosey creatures. Creatures who love to go through someone else's things, just to see another hidden side of said person.

So, like any other normal human being, you opened his lists, and started to go through them.

"Golden mix", "Euphoria", "OST's". Those were pretty standard. "Lonely nights" a bit of a stretch, "Best of the 00s", "Dance party" and "Songs to sing along". Fork found in kitchen. And there was one more playlist that caught your attention.

Simply labeled with— "Your name."

Your heart started beating faster. What is this?

You opened the playlist and you were welcomed by a list of what it seemed like... love songs.

The first one was "Best Friend". You didn't know what to think. Why did he have a playlist with songs like "Kiss me" by Matt Maltese, "Mountains" by Charlotte Day Wilson, "Making Time" by Rex Orange County. All love songs.

Then it hit you. He's in love.

You started panicking. Your heart racing with thoughts you couldn't ignore any longer. The playlist named after you echoed in your mind.

You couldn't believe it. Jungkook, your best friend, the one who always seemed so casual and carefree, had a playlist dedicated to you filled with love songs. Your mind raced as you tried to process this new information. Was it possible that he felt the same way you did? That the tension between you wasn't one-sided after all?

You sat down on the couch, still holding his iPod in your hands. The weight of it felt heavier now, as if it held all the unspoken words and emotions that had been swirling between you and Jungkook. You couldn't bring yourself to put it down; instead, you scrolled through the playlist again, each song title tugging at your heartstrings.

A sense of warmth washed over you, mingled with fear and uncertainty. What should you do now? Should you confront Jungkook about the playlist, lay all your cards on the table and risk changing everything between you? Or should you keep quiet, pretend you never stumbled upon this precious list?

You knew there was something going on, you weren't stupid. But you couldn't bring yourself to accept the possibility that the guy you love, might like you back. It's easier to pretend like nothing is happening. You have built this whole imaginary life with him in your head, but not once did you consider that it might be a two-way street.

"I already said I'm in love with you Can't you hear me? Why do you act like you don't? You know well the spark in my eyes when I look at you Can't you see it? Why do you act like you don't?"

You had been listening to the song on repeat for an hour. It was stuck in your head. Your heart was aching.

The reality was finally sinking in.

"He's in love with me," you whispered to yourself, the realization hitting you like a tidal wave. It explained so much—his kindness, his attentiveness, even his willingness to go along with making a stupid profile for a stupid dating app. But you had built walls around your heart, afraid to acknowledge the possibility that your feelings were reciprocated.

You felt a surge of emotions, a mix of joy and fear swirling inside you. Jungkook's unspoken confession through his playlist left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet strangely hopeful.

"Falling" played softly through the speakers, its lyrics painting a picture of longing and uncertainty. It mirrored your own inner turmoil, the battle between fear and listening to your heart for once.

You had spent so long convincing yourself that this was just a friendship, that any romantic thoughts were one-sided. Now, faced with the truth, you didn't know what to do next. Should you tell Jungkook? Should you pretend you never saw the playlist?

Your mind raced with questions, but deep down, you knew you couldn't ignore this any longer. Jungkook's feelings were out in the open, laid bare through these songs that said a lot about his emotions.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and let the music wash over you. Each melody, each lyric felt like a confession, a plea for you to see what had been in front of you all along.

"I already said I'm in love with you," the lyrics repeated in your mind, echoing the words you longed to hear from Jungkook himself.

The weight of the situation settled over you. You constructed the exact same playlist on your own phone, replaying it endlessly, searching for answers in the same songs he had chosen. It became a ritual, a way to understand what Jungkook hadn't yet said aloud. Each track felt like a message, a confession hidden in plain sight.

As days passed, the playlist became a lifeline, a connection to Jungkook that transcended words. You wondered if he knew the impact his secret gesture had on you, if he realized how deeply you analyzed each song, each lyric, each subtle hint of affection.

It was as if the playlist had become a conversation between your hearts, a silent dialogue that spoke volumes about your unspoken emotions. You couldn't deny the truth any longer—the love you felt for Jungkook had bloomed quietly, nurtured by his unwavering presence in your life and it reflected in the selection of songs carefully chosen by him.

And so you continued to listen, to immerse yourself in the music that spoke of love and longing. It was a soundtrack to his emotions, a testament to the unspeakable love that had grown between you and him.

The guys had planned a small gathering at your house. Hoseok, Jimin and Tae arrived at the same time around 8:00 p.m. with food, drinks and Cards Against Humanity. They were already having fun when they rang the bell.

"Hey," you said as you opened the door.

"Hey!" they greeted you.

You all headed towards the living room and they placed the things they brought on the table.

You chuckled, feeling a wave of warmth at their enthusiasm. "Thanks for coming, guys. I've got the place ready—cleaned up only for you the other day," you teased, motioning towards the neatly arranged living room.

As you all settled in, chatting and unpacking the snacks and games, there was a noticeable absence. Jungkook hadn't arrived yet, and though you tried not to dwell on it, his absence didn't go unnoticed by your friends.

"Where's Jungkook?" Tae finally asked, voicing the question that lingered in the air.

You shrugged nonchalantly, though your heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. "Not sure. He said he might be a bit late."

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with Jimin. "Didn't he say he was gonna meet with someone from Tinder?"

"Tinder?"

"You know, the dating app," Tae chimed in, taking a bite of a snack.

"I know what Tinder is Tae,” you replied with a laugh, trying to keep your cool.

"So you didn't know he was on a date?"

"No, he didn't tell me. Are you serious? He's on a date right now?" Your voice came out louder than expected, and you cursed yourself for the slip.

Jimin frowned, concerned. "Are you okay, Y/N?"

You waved dismissively, trying to downplay the hurt and disappointment. "Yeah, all good... well, more food and games for us until he gets here."

You tried to push down the gnawing feeling of jealousy that threatened to surface at the thought of Jungkook on a date with someone else. The idea of him with another person stirred up emotions you had been trying so hard to accept the past days. You forced a smile as you joined in the banter and laughter, attempting to bury your own conflicting emotions.

Despite their casual remarks, you couldn't shake the unease settling in your stomach. You hoped Jungkook would arrive soon, eager for his presence to dispel the nervous tension building within you.

The minutes ticked by, filled with laughter and infinite jokes over Cards Against Humanity. Each time the doorbell rang, you found yourself tensing, hoping it was him. But each time, it turned out to be someone else—a delivery person, one of your neighbors...

As the evening progressed, you couldn't help but steal glances at your phone, checking for any messages from Jungkook. But you decided not to keep waiting and decided to send him a text first.

'whats taking you so longggggggg' it read.

He replied instantly. 'i'm outside, coming now'

You put down your phone, your heart pounding. A few seconds later, you heard familiar footsteps approaching and there was a knock on the door. You got up, heading towards the door.

"He's here!" Tae exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face as he jumped up to answer the door with you.

You held your breath as Jungkook stepped inside, a sheepish smile on his lips as he greeted everyone. His eyes met yours briefly, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down.

"Sorry I'm late guys," Jungkook said, setting down a bag of drinks next to Tae's.

Jimin smirked teasingly. "Lost track of time, huh?"

Jungkook chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Haha nah,"

Absolutely not. It was a disaster. Why did I agree to this? She seemed nice enough online, he thought, but in person... It just wasn’t there. The conversation felt forced, and I couldn’t wait for it to end. He grimaced, recalling how he struggled to find common ground and forced a laugh at her jokes. I should've been with y/n tonight, helping her get everything ready for this.

Of course, all of that stayed in his head. He was embarrassed to tell everyone how much he hated meeting someone new. It would just give your friends the opening to tease him more about it.

"Well, you made it, and we're all here now. So let's start" you suggested, breaking the silence.

His eyes sought out yours, finding a mix of emotions reflected back at him—surprise, curiosity, and something he couldn't quite place.

Everyone nodded in agreement and moved to gather around the coffee table, pulling your cushions closer.

With Jungkook's presence, the gathering felt complete, as if a missing piece had been found.

And as you all laughed and played into the night, you couldn't ignore the way Jungkook's gaze lingered on you, a silent reassurance of the feelings you'd been trying to suppress.

"I'm going to take a photo of this." Tae announced, lifting up his beer.

You and the others followed suit, holding your drinks up and smiling. Jungkook on your right got closer to you for the picture, cheek to cheek, his scent surrounding you. You wanted to lean in and practically inhale him.

"Perfect." Tae snapped the shot, and then showed it to the group. "What do you think, everyone?"

Everyone agreed that it was a good photo.

"We all look great," Tae said.

"But not as good as those two," Hoseok joked.

You rolled your eyes. "Please."

"It's true," Hoseok insisted. "You guys look good together."

Jimin nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "They're right. You’d make a cute couple."

Jungkook felt shy at their words. It's not like he was trying to hide his feelings for you, but he hadn't exactly made his intentions known, either. It was frustrating, wanting to be closer to you but not knowing how.

At least it was encouraging to know that your closest friends were seeing you both that way. That meant he had hope, right?

"Okay, that's enough," you said, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Let's keep playing."

As the game resumed, the group's attention shifted back to the cards.

You cleared your throat, shifting awkwardly on the cushion. "So... how was your date?"

Jungkook winced, not meeting your eyes. "It was okay," he said, his tone lacking enthusiasm.

You bit your lip, curiosity gnawing at you. "Just okay? What happened?"

Jungkook shook his head, still not meeting your gaze. "I don't know. It just didn't feel right, I guess."

You tilted your head, searching his face. "What do you mean?"

Jungkook shrugged, a sheepish expression on his face. "It was just... awkward. We didn't really click. I don't know."

Your chest tightened, a mix of emotions swirling inside. "Oh," you managed, turning back to the game. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not good at this kind of thing, you know? Meeting new people, going on dates. It's hard for me. I'd rather be with people I already know and trust."

You knew what he meant. The same went for you. It was hard enough trying to navigate your feelings without having to worry about other people, too.

You nodded, giving him a small smile. "I get it."

"I just wish it could be easier, you know? Like, finding someone you actually like who happens to also like you back, and not having to worry about anything else. Just enjoying each other's company."

Your breath caught, your mind reeling from his words. And from the way he was looking at you, you could tell he wasn't just talking about friendship.

"Why would you say something like that?" you questioned, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Jungkook's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? Say something like what?"

"That you wish you could be with someone who actually likes you and not have to worry about anything else."

"I... because it's true. I don't want to go on stupid dates anymore, I want to be with someone I care about. Someone I can laugh and have fun with."

You swallowed, your pulse quickening.

"Someone like who?"

Jungkook exhaled, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I think you know who," he said quietly.

You stared at him, speechless, as his words sunk in. Your heart was racing, your body buzzing with adrenaline.

Hoseok, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly made himself heard, "I think I'm stuck in your bathroom!"

You and Jungkook turned to find your friend, who sounded flustered and slightly panicked. Jimin and Tae burst into laughter, trying to contain themselves as Hoseok continued to tug at the bathroom door.

"What do you mean you're stuck?" Jimin managed to ask between giggles.

Hoseok yelled helplessly. "I went in to use the bathroom, and now the door won't open!"

Jungkook glanced at you with a bemused smile, the tension from earlier dissipating with the absurdity of the situation. "Seriously, Hobi?" he chuckled.

Hoseok sounded exasperated. "It's not funny! How am I supposed to get out of here?"

"I'll go get some tools," Tae offered, still chuckling as he headed towards the kitchen.

You stepped closer to the bathroom door, trying to assess the situation. "It's just stuck. Let me try," you suggested, reaching for the handle and giving it a firm tug.

To everyone's surprise, the door swung open easily, revealing Hoseok looking both relieved and slightly embarrassed. "Oh, thanks, I swear it was stuck…"

Jimin clapped Hoseok on the back, still laughing. "Sure it was, Hobi. Sure."

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur of laughter and games, and despite the lingering awkwardness from earlier, you were glad that the night had gone well.

It was close to 2:00 a.m. when your friends finally began to call it a night, and you were exhausted.

"Thanks again for coming, everyone. I had a lot of funnnn," you said, giving them each a hug goodbye.

Jungkook was still on your kitchen helping you clean up all the mess you made. Drying the dishes and placing the glasses on your cabinets. You were cleaning up the table when he walked up to you.

"Need any help?"

"I'm done, thank you."

"Are you sure?"

"I am, thanks Kookie,"

You started walking towards your room when you heard him speak up.

"I really liked being here tonight."

"I know it was a lot of fun," you replied with a small smile. You grabbed his hoodie and his iPod to return them. Staring at the endearing device. Almost as if it were something fragile.

"I'm glad you had a good time," you responded as you walked back to the kitchen, handing him back his belongings. As you stood there in the dimly lit room, a comfortable silence settled between you. Jungkook's gaze was intense as he looked at you, his eyes searching yours for something unspoken.

Jungkook paused his moves, as if weighing his next words carefully. "I was thinking... maybe we could hang out again this week, just the two of us."

"What about the girl from Tinder?" you asked as you returned to face him, your tone sharper than you intended.

Jungkook frowned, confusion clouding his features. "What are you talking about? You know I went on one date. I told you it was a disaster."

You sighed, suddenly feeling foolish. "Yeah, I know, don't know why I asked that, haha" you muttered. "Didn't know you still used this thing,"

He smiled, his fingers brushing over the iPod. "I still love my music in here, you know, it sounds a lot better"

"Yeah, that's what I thought,"

He looked at you intently, and the air between you seemed to grow heavy.

"I've missed spending time with you, Y/N."

Your breath caught in your throat, your pulse quickening as you stared at him. "Me too," you whispered.

"So, is that a yes?"

"A yes to what?"

"The offer to hang out,"

"Oh, right. Um, yeah, sure. Sounds nice."

Jungkook's face lit up. "Cool. Well, I guess I'll see you later, then." With a final smile, he turned and left.

You watched him go and your mind was spinning. Jungkook's words echoed in your head, his words sending a flutter through your chest. You couldn't help but grin. Maybe there was hope for you two after all.

The following day, you woke up to the sun streaming in through your curtains, illuminating the room in a soft glow. You stretched lazily, savoring the warmth of your bed, before reluctantly climbing out and heading to the bathroom to wash up.

Unconciously, you began to shut yourself out. You had spent the whole night awake, thoughts about the possibility of being with your best friend swirling around your head, preventing you from falling asleep.

As you brushed your teeth, you heard your phone buzz. It was a text from him.

'Good morning'

A smile tugged at your lips, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

'good morning'

'can we go out today? im craving pizza'

You bit your lip, considering the invitation. A part of you was eager to see him, but another part was worried that it might be awkward, especially after the scenarios you created in your head last night.

You ended up refusing to go out with him. And he started to get anxious. He thought he may have done something wrong. That you were actually angry for going on a date or that you no longer wanted him to be part of your life just because he went out with someone else.

Jungkook started panicking.

And so, he called the guys.

"I don't know, she's just not acting normal." he sighed.

"Did something happen the other night?" Hoseok asked, concerned.

"No, I don't think so. She didn't say anything to me,"

"So why is she mad at you?"

"I have no idea. I was hoping maybe you had an idea,"

"Did she say she was mad at you?"

"Not directly, but she didn't want to go out today,"

"Well, I'm not surprised. She's probably just tired,"

"Tired?"

"Yeah, from work and all that, she's probably exhausted. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Do you think so? You don't think she's mad at me?"

"I really don't think she is. She'll probably just want to rest for a few days, and then things will go back to normal."

Your attitude changed so suddenly. You kept on cancelling on him. It’s been weeks.

"You have to talk to her, man," Jimin said.

"What do I say? How do I bring it up? Do I just ask her why she's been avoiding me? What if she doesn't know what I'm talking about?"

"Then ask her. Don't overthink it. Just say it."

Jungkook sighed, frustrated. "You make it sound so easy,"

"Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. It's probably gonna be awkward as fuck, but you can't let it get in the way of your friendship. You've been friends for so long, and it's obviously important to both of you. If she really is mad at you, then you need to find out what's going on. But if she's not, then you need to clear the air and move on. Because otherwise, this is just gonna keep getting worse and worse for you."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm just... worried, I guess."

"I know, but don't be. Everything’s fine. It’ll work out, especially if you let her know that you like her."

"What? Are you crazy? I can't just tell her that."

"Why not?"

"Because... what if she doesn't feel the same way?"

"So what if she doesn't? You'll never know unless you tell her. And if she does feel the same way, then you can finally stop being all sad and pathetic."

"You think she likes me?"

"Well, only she can tell you that, but you'll never know if you don't talk to her. So suck it up and go for it."

"Fine. I'll talk to her."

"Good."

"But... how do I tell her?"

"Just be honest. Tell her you've been worried that something is wrong, and you want to make sure everything is okay. Then let her know how you feel. But, be prepared for her reaction. If she doesn't feel the same way, it could make things weird. But you need to deal with it and move on."

That same day you were laying down in bed, scrolling through your phone. Reading over and over the lyrics of one particular song on the playlist.

"Is there a place for me? Is there a place for us? I can't tell you how much I love you, babe Open the door Open your heart Tell me how you're feeling, I miss you so bad I'm falling to pieces"

And just like that, your phone began vibrating, your heart beating rapidly as his name flashed across the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey, are you free? Can we talk?"

"Uhm... sure, yeah. Now?"

"If it's okay, yes."

"Okay,"

"I'm coming up now."

"Wait, wha-..."

Jungkook was already at your door, knocking frantically. You opened it for him, your heart in your throat.

He stood before you, looking determined. His eyes were wide, his hair tousled, and he was out of breath, as if he had just run a marathon.

"Sorry, I was already on my way. I had to do it now. I have to say it, because otherwise, I won't have the courage to say it some other time,"

"Okay?"

He inhaled deeply, his eyes locked on yours.

"Y/N, I really, really like you. And I've been so confused and conflicted because I've always liked you, then I started thinking that maybe there was more. And then I realized there was. I really, really like you."

You swallowed hard, the words ringing in your ears.

"I-..."

"It's okay, I just wanted you to know,"

You shook your head, struggling to comprehend what he had just told you. "I'm sorry, I'm just..."

"I know, and I'm sorry. But I had to say it."

"So, does this mean... what are you saying exactly?"

Jungkook hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Y/N, I don't expect anything from you, and I don't want things to get weird. But I just had to tell you. I'm crazy about you."

You nodded slowly, processing his words. "uh. I-... uh."

"I know it's sudden, and I'm sorry. I just couldn't hold it in anymore. But I don't want anything to change, I promise. I'll just go, and we can forget this ever happened. We can go back to the way things were, I promise. I'm sorry,"

"Jungkook, stop apologizing. It's not a bad thing, I'm just... processing. I've never had anyone say they're crazy about me before," with your phone in your hand an idea immediately came to you.

"Can I show you something?" you asked him.

"What is it?"

You walked up to him, your phone in your hand. You handed him your device and let him see your screen. There it was, the infamous playlist.

Jungkook's doe eyes widened, a small gasp escaping his lips as he noticed. "What... is this...?"

"I went through your iPod when you left your hoodie last time," you told him with an embarrassed grin. "They’re the same songs you have on yours,"

"This is so embarrassing," he groaned, his cheeks red. "You... you went through my iPod?" Jungkook asked, now with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief that he wasn't angry about it. "I was curious about the music you listen to. And I found… this,”

He stared at the playlist, then back at you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "So... does that mean you... already knew how I felt?" Jungkook asked, hope flickering in his eyes.

Your heart raced at his words, a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling inside you. Could this really be happening? Could your long-standing friendship truly be blossoming into something more?

"Jungkook," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I like you too. More than just a friend."

"So what does this mean? That we are supposed to be together?"

"Maybe, or maybe not. It could just mean that you have great taste in music and I admire it,"

Jungkook's eyes widened with hope, a grin spreading across his face. "I've been wanting to tell you for so long, but I was afraid of ruining everything between us."

You smiled, your heart fluttering. "Me too, I’m sorry for making you worry these past few days,"

"Can I hug you?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Jungkook held onto you tightly, his arms snug around your waist. You rested your chin on his shoulder, closing your eyes and inhaling his familiar scent.

After a few moments, he pulled away slightly, his hands still resting on your hips.

He looked at you with a mix of relief and uncertainty in his eyes. "So, I didn't ruin anything between us?" he murmured softly.

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "You didn't ruin anything, Jungkook. If anything, you've made everything clearer."

His shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, a hint of a smile returning to his face. "I'm glad."

"I'm glad too," you began again, your voice steady but tinged with nervousness. "But I also want you to know that... I've been thinking a lot too."

Jungkook turned to face you fully, his expression a mix of anticipation and apprehension. "About...?"

"About us," you admitted softly, meeting his gaze. "About how much I enjoy spending time with you, about how much I admire you, and... how I've felt something more than just friendship for a while now."

His eyes widened slightly, hope flickering in them. "A while?”

You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips. "Yes, Jungkook. A while. I've just been afraid to say anything because I didn't want to lose you in case you didn't felt the same way about me."

He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out tentatively. "Y/N... I wish I had known sooner. I've been struggling with these feelings, not knowing if you felt the same way."

"I'm sorry for not saying anything earlier," you murmured, your fingers brushing against his. "But I'm glad we're talking about it now."

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "Me too. More than anything."

There was a moment of silence between you, the weight of your shared emotions hanging in the air. Finally, Jungkook spoke again, his voice filled with determination.

"So... what do we do now?"

You chuckled softly, feeling a surge of affection for him. "I think we take it one step at a time. We've already taken a big step today."

He nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just... really happy right now."

"Me too," you said, squeezing his hand.

"I guess the only question now is... are we... together together?" he asked hesitantly.

You grinned, your heart pounding in your chest. "Only if you want us to be,"

"Yes, yes, yes. Of course, yes,"

"Then it's settled. We're together," you giggled.

Jungkook laughed, the sound sending a warm feeling through your chest.

Cut to 4 years in the future.

There you were at a dinner with friends and family. It had been four years since you got together, but it felt like an eternity. You both were so excited for each other, for your life from now on.

"Hey, you got a little something," he whispered, brushing away a strand of hair from your cheek.

You couldn't help but smile, his touch as tender as ever. "Thanks,"

"No problem," he smiled.

Then you could hear someone clinking a glass. "A few words from the fiancé!" Jin's voice reverberated through the dimly lit restaurant.

"Y-yeah, yeah," your boyfriend stuttered, clearing his throat and standing up. He was a nervous wreck, and it was adorable.

"Um, first, thank you all for being here. It really means a lot to us. We know how important it is to have your loved ones around you on a special day, and we're so grateful for everyone who's supported us. Second, a special thanks to my future father and mother-in-law. Thank you for always being there for us and for supporting our relationship. And, um, thanks to my own parents for, uh, also supporting us."

As the guests began to laugh, your boyfriend cleared his throat and continued, his gaze fixed on yours.

"But most importantly, I want to say thank you to my amazing girlfriend. Thank you for making every day better. Thank you for always being by my side and for loving me unconditionall—"

"We know that already! Entertain us or I won't pay the bill!" Jin's loud voice interrupted again.

You couldn't help but chuckle and the guests laughed again, amused.

Your fiancé smiled, clearly enjoying the teasing.

"Alright, alright," Jungkook cleared his throat before he continued, "actually, we agreed that we'd never tell anyone how we actually got together but I guess we're past that, right babe?"

"Oh no, don't!" You blushed, a little embarrassed.

"It's a funny story," he continued. "It's kind of a long one, but this girl right here thought that the best course of action was to make me a dating app profile before telling me that she was in love with me."

Everyone burst into laughter.

"I was dumb, okay?" you joked, earning more laughter from the guests.

"So, we ended up talking to some people on said dating app and went on a few dates, which were terrible—"

"Hey! It's not my fault that you agreed even though you were also in love with me!" — "Everyone, he had a playlist with my name filled with sentimental songs like the most lovesick boy on Earth!"

"But babe trust me, it's a great playlist, by the way," you added.

"And then we got drunk, and the truth was revealed."

"What?! No way," Hoseok laughed.

"We weren’t drunk, I’m kidding, I just told her that I had liked her since the beginning," he said. "We just made a disaster, and we were both scared shitless."

"But here we are," you added.

"So, yeah, thanks for coming everyone," your fiancé concluded, his voice breaking a little as he wrapped up his little speech.

You could see him trying to blink back tears as he sat back down next to you, and you gave his hand a squeeze.

"You did great," you whispered, leaning in to give him a quick kiss.

"Thanks," he replied, his voice hoarse.

Your parents got up, taking the floor after him.

"Thank you, thank you," your mom said, a bit embarrassed.

"We’d like to share a few words as well. First, we'd like to thank everyone for coming. It's such a privilege to have all our family and friends here, and we're so thankful for your support. And we're especially grateful for our beautiful daughter and our soon-to-be son-in-law. We are so proud of both of you, and we know you'll have a long and happy life together."

"Thanks," you managed to say, overcome with emotion.

"So, now, we'd like to present the couple with a little something. It's just a small token of our love for them," your mother added, signaling for someone to come forward.

Jimin, Hoseok, and Tae stood up from the table and approached the stage, each of them holding a framed collage.

"Here, you can pass these out," your mother said, handing each of the guests copies of the photos.

You and your fiancé were stunned as the three guys presented the photos to you.

The photos were a collage of different memories: you and him during his graduation, another one from yours, a candid shot of him cooking for you, a photo of the two of you smiling in front of the sunset, and a picture of him holding your hand while you were asleep.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you took in the beautiful photos, each one capturing a special moment in your relationship. The love and happiness radiating from the images made your heart feel full to the brim. You glanced at Jungkook, whose eyes were also glistening with unshed tears, and you reached for his hand, holding it tightly.

"Thank you so much," you managed to say, your voice choked with emotion. "These are... perfect."

"I have a gift for you too," you told him, reaching under the table. You brought out a box wrapped in bright pink paper and a bow.

He looked at you with surprise, his eyes shining with curiosity as he took the box from your hands. Slowly unwrapping it, his mouth fell open in astonishment when he saw what was inside. Nestled within the box was a beautifully crafted watch, the silver band gleaming under the soft light of the restaurant.

"Oh wow," he breathed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's... it's incredible."

"It's engraved," you whispered, pointing to the back of the watch where a message was etched. His eyes widened as he read the words: 'Forever yours, Y/N.'

"I was hoping you'd wear it to the wedding," you said, grinning. "But don't cry, you'll make me cry!" you exclaimed.

"I'm not crying, I just..." he trailed off, sniffling.

"I love it," Jungkook finally managed to say, his voice filled with emotion. He stood up abruptly and pulled you into a tight hug, “I love you.”

As you both separated, there was a collective 'aww' from the guests, making you both blush.

The rest of the evening continued with laughter and joy, surrounded by the love of friends and family. People danced, sang, and shared stories late into the night. It was a celebration of love and new beginnings.

As the night winded down and guests started to leave, you found yourselves standing alone in the dimly lit space. Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close.

"Thank you for everything today," you said sincerely, looking into his big brown eyes.

"Thank you for being mine," he replied softly, feeling overwhelmed with happiness.

"I wouldn't want to be anyone else's," you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Jungkook cupped your face in his hands and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of the deepest affection you’ve ever felt.