#like this isn’t an arrangement they’ve sat down and talked about

[galaxytittus]

OHHHH IVE GOT A QUESTION! so are pepper and nilla in an open relationship??? and if so how do they handle jealousy, if they are jealous people???

Oooh thank you for the ask this is a tough one! If you asked them that they wouldn’t know how to answer you and lowkey neither do I lmaoooo. So yes? but mostly no.

Nilla is a jealous person usually, the type to get upset if Pepper happens to have female coworkers. Pepper has always been very jealous but he hides it pretty well (it was always used against him by Remi, he’s kinda just learned to stop expecting fidelity at this point.) They are monogamous in a romantic sense. The only exception for them is sex with Alex specifically. Nilla understands there aren’t any feelings involved if Alex happens to sleep with Pepper. Pepper couldn’t care less about her and Alex CONSTANTLYYY sleeping together as long as they involve him eventually, which ehh they rarely do lol

Anybody else, though, and they’re killing each other 😳😳

[completeoveranalysis]

[5]

CLAMP I LOVE YOU

HELLO DOMESTIC COUPLE KUROFAI

Fai couches his reasoning in a way to figure out the timeline but he is making DAMN SURE his husband’s prosthetics are comfortable and working correctly 

I NEVER DREAMED WE WOULD GET THIS KIND OF ATTENTION TO IT. Most manga would just say hey new arm moving on we don’t worry it’s perfectly the same as before 

Not clamp! They really sat us down and brought in the realities of a long term health condition and an acknowledgment that things don’t just work perfectly or leave you completely as functional as before. 

And THIS level of their relationship too. With Kurogane masking his pain and dismfort because they’ve got serious things go figure out but Fai was paying CLOSE ATTENTION and knew exactly what was up, but also deliberately arranged to be alone with him before talking to him about it out of genuine care for his privacy. 

MARRIED MARRIED I COULD NOT BE HAPPIER 

I

AM

IN

LOVE

OHHHHHH OHHHH I LOVE IT

LISTEN JUST GO BACK TO THAT FIRST PANEL THERE. LOOK AT IT. ENJOY IT. KUROGANE FORCING HIMSELF TO PUT ASIDE HIS PRIDE AND EMBARASSMENT AND ADMIT THAT YES, IT HURTS MORE THAN YESTERDAY

THE ANNOYANCE AS HE HAS TO ALLOW HIMSELF TO BE VULNERABLE TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION

THE WAY HE DOES IT ANYWAY. HE IS VULNERABLE WITH FAI.

And Fai immediately clocks him in the head for not mentioning it earlier. 

Not recommended in real life but EXQUISITE when your husband is like a 6’6 slab of hardened ninja beef, and also when that was essentially the same way you confirmed your marriage to each other not too long ago

New way for them to ignite their playful banter: unlocked! Instead of Kurogane chasing Fai with a sword it’s Fai hitting him in the head and Kurogane reacting in cartoon outrage. (This is Kurogane after all. He can dodge a punch) (Unless we are also saying that he was so emotionally vulnerable that he let his guard down completely which I am also a fan of. It's a win win scenario)

I suppose it’s one way of encouraging your husband to open up to you when it matters, especially when you already drink his blood on a regular basis. 

They really are the most married of all time. 

OH AND THIS TOPS IT ALL OFF

THIS NEW DYNAMIC, SO DIFFERENT FROM ANYTHING THEY HAD BEFORE 

Not Fai lying or avoiding the question or hiding any part of himself - Fai being completely honest and open and correcting Kurogane when he isn’t doing the same. It's a complete inversion of how they were before, when Kurogane was the one pulling a reluctant Fai towards being honest. 

And when Kurogane grumpily notes the irony of Fai being the one to admonish him for keeping secrets (Oof, but also score) Fai OWNS IT, SMILES BRILLIANTLY, and uses it as AMMUNITION to back himself up. Who ELSE is an expert in the consequences of keeping things a secret for too long? 

BRILLIANT BRILLIANT LEAVE ME HERE IT’S ALL I NEED

[sleepingdeath-light]

yandere hcs + overworked s/o ; poly millie & moxxie

requested by ; arcade anon (16/07/23)

fandom(s) ; helluva boss

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; millie & moxxie

outline ; “YANDERE ASKS ROUND THREE!‼️‼️

Can I ask for Yandere Millie and Moxxie team up/poly with a Stubborn, Overworked reader? Like, the job has been really ragging on em lately, and it shows, but they REFUSE to let up/take a break because "None of these fuckin nimwits know how to do the job right!" ?

-Arcade Anon”

note ; this was actually quite good fun to write as i’ve never gotten the chance to write for these two love birds before — but in that same vein, i hope this isn’t too ooc and is an enjoyable read ^^

warning(s) ; yandere!millie, yandere!moxxie, possessive and protective behaviour, referenced forcible restrainment, references to canon-typical levels of violence

despite their hectic work schedule at i.m.p, millie and moxxie are both quick to pick up on how much you’ve been run ragged by your job — but, being more than familiar with how stubborn you can be, the two resolve to give you some time to sort things out by yourself

though not without making it clear that they’re more than happy to step in on your behalf and will do so if things get bad enough — whether you want them to or not

you can dig your heels in and argue with them as much as you want, but you’re never going to convince them to drop the issue of your work schedule — nor are you ever going to be able to convince them to not use their… professional skills to take care of issues on your behalf

(they’ve killed people for just looking at you in a way that could be interpreted as disrespectful to you and your relationship… so needless to say, they’re a very protective duo)

between themselves, usually whilst dealing with marks for work, they toss around several ideas about how to make you take care of yourself — moxxie is initially much more focused on taking the pacifist of route and just arranging a meeting with your job or sitting you down and explaining their concerns as best they can, whilst millie is plotting all sorts of violent acts that span from torturing your boss into lessening your work load (if not outright killing some of your colleagues to send a message) to tying you up and forcing you to stay at home so you can finally take a fucking break

eventually, with some shockingly sound advice from blitzø (there’s a first time for everything), they settle on something in between the two extremes

(love is all about compromise, after all! just not with you this time)

one day you get home from work and your partners are sat in the living room with matching sober expressions on their face — millie is the one to greet you first, as usual, with a cuddle and a kiss as she asks you about your day, guiding you to sit on the settee whilst moxxie quickly goes and retrieves all of the materials he’d been preparing throughout the day (blitzø had rather generously given him the day off to do so — and as thankful as he is, he still dreads what he’ll be asked to do to make up for it)

they sit you down and talk through their concerns with graphs tracking your work hours and sleep schedule that mox had spent weeks making: millie’s alternating between reassurances that they both understand where you’re coming from, backing up moxxie’s statements with her typical wrath-ring charm, and lovingly telling you to shut up and listen whilst being as physically affectionate as ever, whilst moxxie is walking you through the data and (still polite as always) explaining just how necessary it is for you to take some time off

they refute every argument you have and force you (literally, millie is startlingly strong for her size and refuses to take her hands off of you until she’s sure you’re not going to bolt off) to stay and listen to reason

and they make it as clear as day that they’re not above keeping you at home by force if that’s what it takes to get you to prioritise your well-being

and, once they’ve finished with you and are absolutely certain that you intend to listen to their advice, they go and seek out your boss under the cover of night in order to sort out the problem at the source

if millie had her way they’d have just killed your boss outright and used their death as a clear-cut example about what happens to anyone who fucks with their partner

but, thankfully, she listened to moxxie’s pleas and they instead started out diplomatically (except for the whole breaking into their home and tying them up so they can’t escape thing): clearly stating their concerns, stating alternative solutions (like offering more thorough training so you don’t feel like the only competent person in a workplace full of ‘fuckin nimwits’), and making it clear that they will come back and finish the job if they don’t sort their shit out going forwards

(millie still gets her fill of violence by taking out a few armed bodyguards and wounding your boss badly — but not fatally — when they try to weasel out of giving you some time off like they demanded, so don’t worry about that)

… needless to say, you didn’t get overworked at all after that and were instead free to spend even more time showering your (at times concerningly) adoring partners with love and being smothered by their affection in return

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for pointing out the fact that the groom’s family at my sister’s wedding were all wearing funeral clothes?

i (23NB) went to my sister’s (29F) wedding. not as part of the bridal party, i requested to be left out because she wanted her bridal party all in very feminine dresses and i present masc. but i helped with the floral arranging and paperwork so i felt like i contributed decently

my sister’s new husband (20M) is a nice guy, he’s very sweet to my sister. i think he’s a little young for her but our own parents actually have the same length age gap so i can’t really argue without causing other problems. tbh i have no issues with the relationship itself since she met him when he was an adult and he has been a very supportive partner to her

the wedding was at a christian church near us that our family “attends” but none of us besides our very religious aunt go to much anymore. it was a nice event, the colors were pastel yellow and peach. i helped set things up when i got there and then hung out with the groom’s party a little to see if they needed help on their end. after that i started greeting the arriving guests with our dad (48M)

here’s where i may be the asshole:

while my dad and i were shaking hands and directing guests around, i started noticing a weird pattern. a lot of our family were showing up in what i figured is pretty standard formal wear for a summer wedding at a church. lots of navy blue blazers, light pink dresses, tan/gray pantsuits, etc… a lot of random variation. but the groom’s family were by comparison all very much matching. in fact, at first, i thought maybe my sister had told them to dress in specific colors

they were all wearing black.

black suits, black dresses, black pantsuits… the only ones wearing any color were some of the kids who were wearing navy blue or gray. it got a little obvious when both his parents stood in front of us wearing black, dad and i wearing much more colorful attire. hell my own tie had pinky peach stripes to match the flowers

i didn’t say anything about it at first. i assumed there was something i didn’t know or that i was maybe just overreacting. but, as the event got underway, i noticed that the groom’s family were being a little distant. his sister (20s?F) in particular seemed to be stone-faced and didn’t return the greeting i offered, instead just staring at me and then huffing before she went to sit down. she was wearing a long black dress.

i haven’t met his family more than once or twice in the year and a half they’ve been together, but it seemed strange. they aren’t Addams Family types, black isn’t a standard color for them as far as i know. especially not the MIL (40s?F) whose home from what i remember is all pinks and florals

i finally decided to voice my confusion to my dad after the ceremony, when we were all sat down to eat before the dancing got started. he told me it was definitely weird, but to not tell my sister during the wedding. she definitely hadn’t asked them to specifically dress like that. i agreed i had no plans to tell her since it could stress her out

there were a couple more suspicious things like the speech that the groom’s brother (21M) gave where he made a pretty pointed cradle robbing joke and then the MIL leaving abruptly after the speeches… and i didn’t get talked to almost at all by any of his family besides his brother

during the party, i had a couple drinks and hung out with some of my sister’s bridesmaids. i off-handedly joked with one of them that it was weird to wear funeral clothes to a wedding, even though both take place in a church. she asked me what i was talking about so i, being tipsy and not thinking, explained everything…

i shouldn’t have been surprised that by the end of the night the gossip had made it to my sister and she was livid. she said some pretty hurtful things about me not being in her bridal party and “barely being [her] sister anymore” and we both left the interaction crying. i know she went too far and blew up at me, but i also think that she really is making a bad decision by marrying a guy so much younger than her, whose family seem to maybe even disapprove of it

i kinda hate that i noticed it and said anything but i also kinda hate my sister’s choices and what she said to me… AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[niallsgoldhoop]

Chapter Six

Niall

“You think we need these?”

I tap the paper on top of my desk, looking up at the woman in front of me from under my furrowed brows.

“Yes.” Wren answers simply, crossing her arms over her chest. “Isn’t that how a business agreement works?”

“Being in a fake relationship counts as a business agreement?” A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips as I lean on my elbows. “Go on, enlighten me.

Determination flashes across her whiskey colored eyes. “If I had known you’d be so difficult I wouldn’t have ever said yes to your proposition, Niall.”

“Admit it, Wren Daniels, you need me.” Standing up and walking around my desk, my hip resting against the dark wood once I’m in front of her. “Now tell me about these rules, darling.”

“I know you’re my boss, but don’t be an ass.” She levels me with her gaze. “I’ve got enough of those in my life.”

Her words remind me of the way I found her a few days ago— alone and by herself.

She doesn’t know that I saw her and her sister sitting in the dining room of the clubhouse. Which means that she didn’t know that I saw the emotions in her face as her sister said whatever she had to say to her.

Before they were even done with their conversation I left and made my way towards the deli down the street. It was quick and easy and something that was always good so I put in an order for her and for me.

By the time I got back to the course and saw her climbing into a golf cart there was no hesitation in my mind but to follow her.

We sat there and ate mostly in silence while the sun went down below the horizon.

It was easy to tell that whatever happened with her sister wasn’t easy from the sad look behind her pretty eyes. If anything it made me want to find everyone who had ever done her wrong and talk some sense into them.

“I’m not—“ Running my hand through my hair, I let out a long sigh. “Listen, I’m not an asshole and I want to help you.”

Wren closes her eyes, long lashes fluttering against the apples of her cheeks, taking her own deep breath. “I know, I know. Sorry— This whole thing just freaks me out and it’s a lot, okay? Rules make things easier.”

Nodding, I reach behind me and grab the paper off of my desk and read over the words written out in black and white.

This stays between us.

After the wedding it’s over.

No touching.

No talking about it at work.

No kissing.

NO SEX

No spending the night.

No nicknames.

A small smile tugs on the corners of my lips at her list. “I’ll take them into consideration.”

“Consideration?!” Wren balks. “No, no, no— This is like a must, Niall.”

“You said this was a business arrangement, correct?” Still holding the paper in front of me, I look at her from under my brows and wait for her to nod. “So, since we are working together, it makes sense that I get a say as well, yeah?”

Wren rolls her tongue inside of her cheek, shifting to rest on her left foot and making her hip pop to the side. “Okay, fine.”

“Perfect.” Straightening up and making my way towards the closed door to my office. “I’ll be sure to get back with you in a timely manner.”

“But—“

Pulling open the door and stepping out into the well lit hallway, the natural light warming my back as I turn and walk backwards while looking at the stunning woman in my office.

Standing with her mouth slightly open, I send her an over exaggerated wink.

“It’s nice doing business with you, Wren Daniels.”

With that I turn on my heel and walk away with a little extra pep in my step.

Only when I get down into the lobby do I realize I’ve still got her list of rules in my hand.

Rules I plan to change.

__________

Owning a golf course is amazing.

From details as small as which font rests in the letterhead all the way to the big decisions like which golf tournaments we could host— every single one of them belonged to me.

Right now I’ve been on a call for so long that every word sounds like mumbled nonsense.

Well, at least they do when you’re not paying attention.

Me and my attention?

They’ve been focused on the sheet of paper in front of me for hours.

Wren Daniels thinks that we need an entire list of rules to get through this ‘relationship’ we’ve managed to get ourselves into. To me everything seems pretty black and white, but just looking at the list it’s easy to see that Wren does not agree with that idea.

Thomas Milburn talks about bringing another high dollar tournament to Willow Lakes, something I should be taking notes on.

Instead, golden sunlight streams through the picture window and warms my back as I reach for a felt tipped pen, uncapping it, and pressing it down to the papers in front of me.

As I try to listen and make notes, the black ink bleeds into the pages over the length of our meeting.

“Niall, are you still there?”

Raising my head up as if I’d been caught red handed, I nod. “Yeah, Yeah… I’m here.”

“So what do you think?” Thomas says. “We would be looking at bringing a few sponsors out.”

“That sounds great.” I lie knowing that nothing he said in the last hour has even mattered to me. “You’ll send the details over so we can confirm?”

“Of course. I’ll have Madison send them over and we can go from there.” He answers. “Anything else?”

Everyone else on the call gives out a varied chorus of no, the answers all turning into their own versions of goodbye as they all log off the call one by one.

“Alright, Niall… I’ll send over the details and then if you need anything else you can reach out to me. I think that this will be amazing and I can’t wait to do this with you guys.” I can hear the excitement in his voice as I nod.

“Perfect.” Smiling, I look down to the paper in front of me. “I look forward to it.”

We swiftly end the call and I manage to sit back at my desk.

Multiple pieces of paper are scattered on top of my desk, but only one of them had the freshly inked words all over it.

The random doodles that line the edges of the paper.

The coffee mark in the corner.

The rules.

Wren had written her own list of rules… But I decided to add some of my own.

Not to mention amending a few of her own.

This stays between us? And one friend.

No touching? Okay, unless other people are around.

No talking about it at work? Big line through the middle of it.

No kissing? Unless people are watching.

No sex? I didn’t know that was an option.

No spending the night? If that’s what you want… But I have snacks.

No nicknames? Okay, Birdie.

It brings a smile to my lips as ai look at my messy handwriting next to her perfectly typed list, especially the rules written underneath hers.

The rules that belong to me.

No fighting.

Go out with me twice a week.

Come with me to work events.

At least pretend you like me.

No seeing other people.

Standing up and grabbing the paper, I turn to look out over the rolling hills of the course that’s quickly become like a second home to me.

That’s when I see her standing with another person out on the veranda.

Dark hair blowing in the breeze as she laughs, a real smile on her face that makes her look so incredible stunning it could break even the strongest soldier.

Leaving my place, I leave my office and make my way to hers and leave the paper on her desk with a notecard with a date written on it.

Our first date.

But unlike the other people, I could stay strong.

I wouldn’t fall for Wren Daniels.

________

Waiting is the absolute worst.

I’ve never been patient so I guess it’s nice knowing that hasn’t changed.

However— Not knowing what you might be waiting for makes it even worse.

A week ago I left a note card on Wren’s desk, right next to a cute little disco ball, telling her exactly where to meet me.

If she wanted.

While I made my own rules to add to hers, I wouldn’t force her to go along with them if she didn’t feel like it. From what I’ve learned about her in a short amount of time it seemed like everyone made her feel forced to do everything.

Never taking the time to ask her.

Letting out a deep breath, I think about the situation we’ve put ourselves in.

The last time I was even in a serious relationship it lasted for over three years and ended with us just naturally drifting apart. Neither of us had any remorse or regrets when we broke things off, knowing that it was for the better.

Of course there’s been people I’ve casually been with since then, but nothing on the level that Wren and I were about to portray.

God, could I even fake a relationship?

For her I would have to figure it out.

There was no way that I was going to let her deal with the fallout from her family or the guy who treated her like less than she deserved. Not on my watch.

Taking care of people was just always something that came naturally to me. I would always protect the people close to me and the people that needed someone on their side.

She just happens to find herself in both of those categories now.

“Sorry— I’m late—“

Looking up, I take a deep breath as Wren drops down in the seat across from me. Her long, dark hair is wind blown no doubt from the storm that seems to be rolling in and she does her best to get it back in place.

“It’s fine. Did you make it here alright?” My eyes travel over her. “It hasn’t started storming as it?”

Shaking her head, her shoulder shimmy out of the light jacket to reveal a simple black long sleeved shirt. “No, not yet.”

“I’m glad you could make it.” Giving her a small smile, I try to overlook the weird nerves settling in my belly.

Looking up at me from her menu, her brown eyes are soft under the low lighting. “Well, considering that I barely know anything about you and we’re about to try and convince everyone we know that we’re together— I figured that I should.”

I can’t help but laugh as our waiter comes over to get a drink order from her, his eyes lingering just a little longer than they should before walking away.

“So then, tell me what I need to know about you, Wren Daniels.” Reaching for the glass of whiskey to my side, I bring it to my lips as my eyes stay on hers.

Shifting in her seat, her fingers trace small circles over the cloth covering the table at the same time that she bites her bottom lip. “There’s nothing interesting to know about me, really.”

“I think that’s a lie.” Leaning on the table and letting the whiskey tumbler dangle from my fingertips, I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek. “There’s more to you than you want people to see, but I do. I want to see you— I want to know you.”

“Um, okay.” Her gaze drops to the table, picking at a piece of lint that doesn’t exist. “When I was a teenager, I wrote fanfiction about this band member I was obsessed with.”

Watching her, I see the corners of her lips turn up at her own admission which brings a smile to my face.

Just like that, for whatever reason, we tear down a couple of walls.

Together.

—————

how do you feel about it so far????

-alex 🍀

[hmshermitcraft]

Now the hermits know Pearl’s past isn’t something she talks about often if not at all even Grian knows a whole lot and they’ve known each other since they were toddlers! But she sometimes get into a funk and just avoids everyone for weeks on end they get worried. They try and go to her base but she’s not there Impulse and Gem haven’t even seen her nearby and when she does return she’s usually covered in blood with dead eyes her head down. Not to mention the fact there’s been a massive increase in wolves showing up on the server and not the friendly kind.

Now they want to respect Pearl’s privacy they do really! But the last time she showed up she was curled in a ball next to the Hotguy shop crying with large claw marks behind her and her normally baggy jacket she always keeps on torn to shreds showing a large selection of tattoos they weren’t even aware she had. So after getting her patched up and making sure she was ok they went to her base and sat in front of her with Xisuma pulling the “I demand an explanation” look which he hates pulling.

So after working up a voice Pearl explained her family wasn’t kind…in a traditional sense she comes from a long line of monster hunters who willingly or at least usually willingly become werewolves in order to fight back unfortunately she wasn’t one of those willing ones. Normally the process shouldn’t have side effects as long as it’s what a person wants but unfortunately her grandparents didn’t care for that so they forced the transformation which resulted in the tattoos on her body. So now Pearl has a raging monster inside her that unless she lets loose every once and awhile it can hurt her badly which is what she tried to do since she’s been doing since she’s been on hermitcraft and this is the end result that their seeing when the monster forcibly takes control.

And the last thing she expected was to be hugged by all of them with a good majority of them crying-Mumbo, Keralis your gonna drown Scar at this rate!-while the other majority was already trying to figure out to see if they can remove it or at least a way to ease the symptoms of it. And in that instant Pearl remembered why she fell in love with them all in the first place this curse be damned.

Rando anon

Jokingly, some of the hermits are offended that she thinks they could be taken down by a mere werewolf to begin with. Pearl shakes her head fondly, knowing no wolf is going to help her win that argument.

Xisuma throws himself into research, whilst some of the other hermits band together to find a way to help Pearl manage her symptoms. The wolf needs to be let out occasionally to run off energy, so they need a safe space it can do it! Really, it's just like designing a minigame, and that's something the hermits excel at.

Pearl gives her input, as well. Mostly it's telling people areas the wolf will be able to escape. It can jump over walls that low, yes it can open doors. Gates too. Iron doors take longer so it usually gets bored and gives up.

They eventually end up with a selection of minigames for Pearl to choose from when she needs it. There's ones for running, hunting, fighting- whatever the wolf needs that night! Xisuma promises to keep up his research, but Pearl feels so much better already. It's nice to wake up the morning after a transformation feeling refreshed and energised. She used to always feel like she'd been dragged backwards through a hedge maze.

(The hermits still aren't quite sure how to tell her about the time the wolf came to them and flopped over for belly rubs, though. They guess the previous arrangement didn't feel good for it, either.)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Salomé Sibonex

Published: Jan 15, 2024

You can’t make a move or state an opinion without confronting the real pandemic of our time: control freaks.

The loudest people today are the ones who are most certain they alone have everything figured out—everything. Which ideas are worth debating, how you should raise your kids, what makes a relationship good, what political beliefs you should have, and of course, how the entirety of our society should be run. 

There’s no need for you anymore—that is, the you who’s an individual with unique experiences, insights, and the desire to forge a life of your own. The you that control freaks want is a body with a social security number that grants them the ability to sway society through social pressure and majority rule. All that extra stuff you call “individuality" is an obstacle to making you a cog in their machine.

Because what’s the point of other people if you can’t make them do what you want?

Instead of living out the unique life that each of us has, the pressure from those who want control over us has pushed many people to pursue conformity. Whether it comes from parents, peers, or authority figures, people learn to give control freaks what they want early in life.

It should be restated (every day, at least): we live in strange times. We all know this, but it’s easy to acclimate to the weirdness and forget just how strange our times are. We focus on the big examples: war, political polarization, TikTok-transmitted illnesses. The truly strange stuff is more subtle, though. It’s the way your online reputation is increasingly more valuable than your real-world reputation. It’s the way your government and strangers in far-off countries have access to your attention any time you check the news or your phone. It’s the way our migration into massively populated cities and our constant connection to all of humanity online makes humans seem less precious, and more disposable. All the right ingredients are coming together to make your individuality worse than useless. 

As our culture becomes one where the appearance of being a good person surpasses the importance of actually being good, the way we value others is also mutating. More people are losing their tolerance for anyone who isn’t like them. While we act like our political differences amount to a battle between good and evil, the truth is less extreme: some people value freedom more than care, and others value care more than freedom. This is the normal spectrum of different beliefs and values we encounter daily, whether among friends, colleagues, or the neighbors we now ignore. These are the old, inevitable differences that have shown up since the birth of electoral politics, where we routinely face the reality that about half our country is more liberal or conservative than the other half.

But as talking TV heads, curated newsfeeds, and infinite block lists invade our lives, it’s getting harder to recall the value in tolerating our differences.

Trust degrades quickly when the threat of being controlled by strangers looms too closely. We were once incentivized to accept occasional losses to the other side as the cost of democracy, but when it seems like one side is playing for keeps, few will risk giving an inch.

As our culture has become more embattled, our lives have become more comfortable and customizable than ever. An entire country that once sat down at the same time to watch the same cable broadcast is now divided into nearly infinite timelines, with each individual choosing what they’ll watch and when. You once listened to music in the order the artist arranged their album, but most people I know don’t listen to albums anymore—they listen to single songs out of a library they’ve customized. Social media is customized to give you an experience dictated by you, from what you see and who you see it from to what you’ll mute and block out of your attention. We’re so accustomed to our custom lives that we don’t even see the novelty in our customized home temperatures until we’re somewhere we can’t control.

Would it be crazy to question whether our customized lives are making us intolerant of anything—and anyone—that doesn’t bend to our will? 

I wasn’t born appreciating the ways people differ from me. I once believed people with different political views were just blocking the path to where society “should” be. My dysfunctional relationship with reality meant anything that didn’t conform to my beliefs needed to be denied or suppressed. Whether it was other people’s beliefs or my own flaws, I hadn’t yet learned that “should” is a dark, intoxicating concept that can trick you into denying reality for the sake of a fantasy. My immature moral certainty about what I thought other people “should” believe entitled me to use any means to change them, from social pressure to government policies. The reality of other people’s different values, ideas, and goals didn’t conform to my desires, so in my naive mind, the obvious response was to change reality. But reality is hard to change—especially when you refuse to acknowledge it first, and especially if it involves anyone’s perception of reality besides yours. My resistance to reality made me turn to manipulation, deception, and defensiveness—all strategies for taking control when reality doesn’t affirm delusion.

I’m lucky that my resistance to reality failed me early in life. A painful break-up made me realize how futile my efforts to deny reality were. No matter how much I tried to change myself or the other person, the reality of our incompatibility remained. The only real choice I had about reality was whether I would face it or fight it and eventually face it regardless, but with added suffering.

The more willing I became to see reality as it was, the more equipped I became to understand and deal with it. 

Unlike most things in our lives today, other people are not customizable. The control we enjoy over what we watch and who we block doesn’t transfer to the real people in the world around us. When leftists complain that every conservative is a racist or conservatives complain that every leftist is evil, they’re refusing to see an inconvenient reality: annoying, misinformed people still exist no matter how passionately you believe they shouldn’t. No amount of deception, manipulation, or other control tactics will change reality—they just obscure it. Or worse, when too many people forget the value of tolerating the reality that people unlike you have a right to their existence too, the result is often suffering and loss of life. 

Instead of trying to control people we differ from, we have to see the reality of our differences as information to work with. It won’t be as easy as clinging to delusion, but people who value others as more than a means to their ends make for neighbors we might actually talk to again.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Connection: Janus

Prompt: ok listen, i know you just posted like maybe an hour before i am humbly submitting this request but- jesus christ i love these boys an unhealthy amount. i finished reading (and subsequently rereading) Connection literally just now, and my brain CRAVES for this college au. ik the part you posted is roman centric but if you could consider janus centric? love ur janus centric fics to death. idk how it would fit with the universe you started but i digress. thank you so much for being you, your writings are one of the things that has motivated me to write my own fanfiction! i appreciate u <33 - vinbee631

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none!

Pairings: roceit

Word Count: 2331

Janus took a deep breath and looked at himself one more time in the mirror. He brushed down his coat and adjusted his hat, making sure everything was in place.

This was it. He’d finally gotten the courage to ask out the cute boy he always sees in the library and he is not going to fuck it up. 

His phone beeps—time to go—and he swipes it up and stuffs it in his pocket, opening the door and walking down to campus proper. They’d arranged to meet in front of the library at 6:30 and yes, he was going to be there a few minutes early just in case. Roman had texted about ten minutes ago saying he was on his way, so with any luck, they might get there at the same time. 

He has a brief thought that he might be getting stood up when he gets there right at 6:30 and no one is there, but he dismisses it and settles in to wait against the right column near the stairs. He rests his cane against the stone next to him and looks out over the grass. 

“Whoa.”

He turns, smiling when he sees Roman approaching. He’s wearing a white button-down and black slacks, his red letterman jacket over his shoulders. Janus smiles and walks to meet him, holding out his hand. 

“You look splendid,” he says, pulling him closer. 

Roman blushes—adorable, he is—and shakes his head. “You’re the one who really dressed up. I feel underdressed now.”

“I can assure you that you don’t look it.” He offers his arm and Roman takes it. “I thought we’d walk, the place isn’t far, do you mind?”

“No, no, not at all. Where are we going?”

“Do you know the new place that’s just opened up near the cornerstone?”

“Oh, is that the one with the signs out everywhere?”

“The very same. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve been wanting to go!’

“Perfect.” 

Roman smiles and oh, he has dimples, does he? Janus pulls him a bit closer and they start walking down the path. “Tell me, how has your day been?”

“Well, I did have a test today.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I studied really hard for it and I knew what most of it was, but there were a few key things I just didn’t remember at all.”

“Such is the way with most tests, I’ve found. I’m sure you did well.”

“I hope so. Can’t really afford to fail any classes.” Something twists Roman’s face. “Even one test.”

Janus frowns. “Is something the matter?”

It seems to shake Roman out of whatever mood he’d stumbled into. “What? No, no, sorry, got a bit distracted there. I, um—that’s not really something I wanna talk about right now.”

“Of course, I understand.”

“What about you, how was your day?”

“Well, I must say I also got a bit distracted.”

“Oh, yeah? By what?”

Janus grins. “I knew tonight I’d be taking you out for dinner, of course.”

He chuckles when Roman blushes again, reaching up to touch his chin. 

“Still stunnable, then?”

“You’re not being fair,” Roman says weakly, “what am I supposed to do when you say stuff like that?”

“Like what?”

“No, no, I know a bad deal when I see one, no, thank you.”

“Stunnable and smart, then.”

“Oh my god,” he mumbles, turning away to try and hide his blushing face and failing miserably. 

He laughs again, lightly squeezing Roman’s arm. “I’ll behave, don’t worry.”

“You better.”

Or what, Janus wants to say, but no, no, he’s not trying to fluster the poor thing too bad before they’ve even sat down. So instead he turns the conversation back to what else Roman’s studying, what classes he’s taking, much more civil conversation. He learns that Roman is pursuing a degree in English, hoping that it will give him a lot of options for networking with people. Apparently he’s gotten a job in admissions and might be able to secure a longer-term position after graduation. 

“Ambitious, are we? Or do you just like it here that much?”

“It’s good pay,” Roman says as they turn the corner, “and it’s not as if it’s super strenuous work. I’d still be able to have enough time for another job if I could get the hours scheduled right and I’d still be able to get home in time.”

“In time for what?”

“My younger brother gets home from his high school and we eat dinner together a lot. I don’t wanna miss that unless I absolutely have to.”

Janus can’t stop himself from smiling again. How sweet, could this man get any more adorable? “I’m sure he’s very grateful for that.”

“Yeah.” Roman toys with the end of his sleeve. “I…I look forward to it.”

“Will he be terribly put out that I’m stealing you away tonight?”

“Nah, he’s going over to a friend’s house tonight. I’m sure he’ll come back home stuffed with pizza and French fries or something.”

“Ah. A dinner for champions.”

Roman snorts. “Or high schoolers that don’t have any other options but to gorge themselves on grease.”

“As I said.”

Roman laughs and Janus decides right there and then that he’s going to try and make Roman laugh every chance he gets.

“Oh, is this it?”

They look up at the wooden sign outside the door, soft music coming from inside. “Yes, it seems so. After you.”

The hostess seats them near the window, placing two menus down as Janus takes off his coat and leans his cane against the window. Roman takes off his jacket too and Janus tries not to stare. He’d had a sneaking suspicion that the letterman jacket wasn’t just for show, that Roman was in fact some sort of athlete, but seeing him without it…

No. Behave. 

“Janus?”

“My apologies,” he says, “you’re distracting.”

Ah, there’s the blush again. Roman shuffles a little in his seat before turning his attention pointedly to the menu. “What looks good?”

“I’m partial to a good sandwich, but don’t let me influence you.”

Roman spends a lot of time poring over sections of the menu, squinting and murmuring under his breath, until Janus catches him counting on his fingers under the table. He reaches out and taps the edge of Roman’s menu. 

“I’m paying tonight,” he says firmly, “order what you like.”

“But—“

“I asked you out,” he says, smiling slightly, “please, sweetie, let me pay?”

“…only if you’re sure.”

“I am. Don’t you worry.” He pats Roman’s hand. “Now, what are you considering?”

“The burger looks really good. And it comes with a lot of fries, I saw it go around a moment ago.”

“Then get that.”

“But with the Rueben, I could get more food for less and I still get fries.” Roman chews on his lip. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna get that.”

“Perfect.” Janus sets aside his menu. “I want to try their chopped salad. I’ve heard it’s good.”

“Oh?”

“A friend of mine came here the other week, said it was worth giving a shot.”

“Do you trust this friend?”

Janus gives him a look. “That’s a pointed question.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I just—“

“Easy, sweetie, it’s okay. I was teasing.”

“Oh.” Janus waves his hand—forgiving him instantly. “I only asked because one time one of Remus’s friends told us to try this restaurant and it did not go well.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

And so he listens, rapt as Roman spins this story about a pizza place that was supposedly great pizza for cheap only for the pizzas to come out misshapen and disfigured, looking like someone had taken leftover pieces from other pizzas and put them all together and put it back in the oven. 

“That’s…disgusting.”

“I mean we still ate it—“

“You did what? Sweetie…”

“Oh, it was fine, it tasted like pizza and it had been recooked, it just looked all messed up.” Roman shook his head. “Plus, it wasn’t like we could afford to just leave.”

Janus frowns, opening his mouth to ask when the waitress came up to take their order. By the time they’d asked and she’d taken the menus and left, Roman was already leaning on the table again. 

“So what do you study?”

“Philosophy.”

“…would be rude if I said I called it?”

“No, but I would be curious as to how.”

��It suits your vibe. All mysterious and stuff.”

“Mysterious, hm?” Janus raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Well, you talk like you’re straight out of some regency drama—“

Janus snorts. 

“—and you make it seem like you’re always thinking about everything at once.” Roman leans back, resting against the chair. “I dunno, I always assumed philosophy majors were kinda like that. You seem like you’re really smart.”

“Why, thank you.”

“I could never be a philosophy student, so I admire people who are.”

“Why not?”

Roman sighs. “Too much of my experience with philosophy is really…well, it’s like ‘this is actually what’s going on’ and ‘nothing you know is something you actually know’ and I’m like…great, but I still gotta do laundry so who cares?”

Janus can’t help it, he laughs. The way Roman says it is just so bemusedly defeated and he can just imagine all of his professors dog piling each other to ‘um, actually’ the hell out of it. “No, I don’t imagine you’d enjoy philosophy.”

“It’s not like I don’t like hearing how people think or anything, I just—look, I got stuff to do and I don’t really have the time to have someone to tell me why.”

“No, no, I understand. I do think it would be interesting to discuss with you in the future, if you’d be interested, but I won’t bore you when you have laundry to do.”

He winks and Roman laughs. “Much appreciated.”

They talk a little more about idle things until the food comes, politely thanking the waitress as they each start eating. The chopped salad is delicious, Janus will have to pass on his thanks to his friend, and judging by the way Roman is devouring his food, he seems to like it too. 

“Good?”

Roman fumbles with his mouthful before wiping his face on his napkin and grinning. “Really good.”

“I’m glad.” He tilts his head. “You’ve still got—“

“Where?”

“Right there, yes.” 

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” He frowns as Roman eyes the other half of his sandwich and sits back. “Not hungry anymore?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m just…taking a break.”

“I see.” Still, he can’t help but notice that Roman keeps glancing out of the window. “Is there something wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m sorry, I’m being rude.”

“Still getting used to not having a curfew?” Janus chuckles as he takes a sip of water. “I know I am.”

When Roman doesn’t laugh, he looks over to see him staring down at his hands. 

“Sweetie?”

“Sorry, I…um, I think I should tell you.” Roman chews on his lip before leaning closer. “I don’t—I’ve never had a curfew.”

“…okay?”

“Remus and I don’t—our parents aren’t—“ Roman swallows— “they’re not in the picture.”

Janus slowly puts his fork down. 

“We just have each other,” Roman continues, “it’s just us. That’s why—that’s why it’s really important that I keep my grades up. The scholarship—I need to keep up certain grades or else I get kicked out.”

And the jobs…and his worry over dinner…and his worry over Remus…yes, that makes sense. Oh, Roman…

“Sorry, that, um, probably wasn’t what you wanted to hear over dinner.” He laughs, but now it’s all nervous and scared and it sounds awful. “Um, I understand if you’d rather I just go—I can’t pay for this right now but I promise I can pay you back, I just might need a few weeks, and I—“

“Roman,” he interrupts before this can get any more upsetting than the thought of Roman thinking he doesn’t want him still, reaching out to cover his hand, “I don’t want you to go.”

“You…don’t?”

Janus shakes his head. “It’s…incredibly brave of you to tell me that, and I’m very honored you decided to share it with me. I think you’re incredibly strong and smart and all of the things I said before. What you have told me doesn’t make me think any less of you.”

Roman looks at him, then at their hands on the table, and he swallows. “…thank you.”

“You are letting me treat you to dinner every so often, though.”

“I don’t need charity—“

“It’s not charity. It’s me wanting to spend time with you because I want to.” Janus squeezes his hand. “Is that acceptable?”

Roman nods. “Thank you, Janus. Really.”

“Think nothing of it.” He smiles. “I get to spend more time with you, that’s reward enough.”

Roman smiles back. Wonderful. 

“So other than Remus,” Janus says, picking up his fork again, “is there anyone else I should know about?”

“Well…”

“Well?”

“You’re not the only one who’s asked me out to dinner.”

“That’s alright. I’ve never minded a bit of friendly competition.” Janus winks. “You’re worth fighting for.”

And so is that blush that Roman fails to his behind the glass of water. 

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[pertenebraas]

Desertduo Limited Life Drabble (Spoilers for Session 3)

Tw: corpses/dead bodies (Grian’s AFK body and previous traffic server deaths)

Corpses don’t stay for very long, in Scar’s experience.

When someone dies, provided they weren’t on their last life, their body only stays for about a minute, before dissolving into ashes with no fire, quickly scattering to an unfelt wind. Etho had once theorized that it was so the matter can be recycled into their new bodies; Bdubs had put forwards that it was the only kindness the server would ever offer, that there was a built in clean up duty so that there wouldn’t be three or more times the corpses lying everywhere. Seeing your own dead body is bad for business, he had joked.

Grian had said that it was for efficiency. So that they wouldn’t have to waste time constantly digging graves rather than putting each other in them.

Scar thinks thats the most optimistic out of all of them, that even without the convenient cremation, that every body would eventually get a grave.

(He doesn’t think about Bdubs, floating in the water face down as Grian screams traitor at him, how Scar had left him there floating to make their final journey home. He doesn’t think about how he hasn’t killed Bdubs since.)

The body in front of him isn’t a corpse, Grian is just…. sleeping, he supposes. When he walked up to the bread bridge in the sky and saw Grian slumped over on a llama, he looked peaceful, eyes closed and serene. Suddenly, Scar yearned for hotter weather, sand between his toes.

All Jimmy would say is that Grian had “gone away,” with an uncharacteristically hard look in his eye whenever someone tried to press. Even as he proclaimed that Grian would be back and that in the meantime he was under the protection of the bad boys, he avoided looking directly at the figure for long, keeping it in his peripheral as he fluttered about from place to place. Joel didn’t quite seem to understand but pushed the party line, snarling anytime Scar even came close to the shell that Grian apparently wasn’t using at the moment.

He really did look like he was sleeping like this, arranged so that his arms were around the llama’s neck for stability, leaning against it. From far away, it could even look like he was breathing, as the movement of the animal’s own lungs gave him the illusion of false life.

Even still the sight unnerved him, enraged him partly from the unnatural aura surrounding the body and partly from the memories it was invoking. He pushed cart after cart full of TNT in the midst of his yellow frenzy, and if that shell was destroyed, out of his sight in the process, well, no one could tell on him, right?

(Maybe if he dies he’ll wake up, Scar doesn’t let himself think.

He doesn’t wake up.)

But here, underground, Grian’s body betrays no signs of living. Sat in his little cove, eyelids set open by Martyn with a razor sharp smirk, the complement to Jimmy’s hard eyes as he said, “Don’t worry about his eyes getting dry. He would prefer it this way, after all, so he can watch.”

Scar thinks this is the closest he’s ever come to seeing Grian’s corpse. There’s no blood, no characteristic wounds that usually grace the bodies that come from this server. He’s simply still, eyes slightly glassy, like a doll. His chest is now visibly still, but face no paler than usual. It seems whatever happened left Grian’s body in some kind of stasis, nothing changing, nothing moving. He doesn’t like it, Scar decides, whispering his confession (I’m sorry for killing you, he says; I’m sorry I couldn’t wake you up, he doesn’t) and he takes his leave.

Scar’s always died before Grian, so there was no chance he would stumble upon his body in the last throes of the game. He wonders if anybody ever dug him a grave before. Nobody ever really talks about it, afterwards, when the world restarts. The winners don’t usually get a chance, they’ve said, that by the time the adrenaline has gone down and they’ve processed the bloody medal they’ve been given, they’re whisked away. Scar wonders if somewhere there’s a world where his bones are being bleached by a harsh sun, or if they’ve been covered in sand, the only grave they could ever hope to get.

(What he doesn’t know, is that his bones made that rule. That as soon as the light left his eyes, the man who killed him, still panting and covered with their blood, took out a shovel and started to dig. He ignored the roaring in his ears, the pounding at his temples demanding for him to move on, to get on with the show. But he had stayed, digging six feet deep, surrounded by an altar of catci, an organic tomb. Only when the last shovel full of sand had been placed on top, had the man stumbled backwards, spread his arms, and fell.)

[mimibwi]

That vlive pic you posted is a great example of what I'm trying to say! This is how it used to be before, different ships, different bonds, so much fun. Now it's only ynm and tkk paired up together!

You mentioned jihope being close and no one say anything about it, well that's because all their moments are in their free time, not the company decision, like in the festa video, they had fun in between official work, same with jinkook!

But anon the vlive pics basically show every “subunit” vlive they’ve had in the past 3 years except some like the vminkook, vminhopekook x2, namkook post concert lives and maybe a few others but Tkk and ynm aren’t in those either, if i’m correct. Wait there’s the yoonmin one, well more like the yoongi one that Jimin was a guest for, after Yoongi’s concert but it makes sense since Jimin went to the concert; the same thing happened after lollapalooza. Anyway Taekook being in 2 of them together, one just them and the other with two other members doesn’t do much to prove they’re being pushed. Lol just realized I didn’t consider the vminkook and vminhopekook ones. I think those are a special case. I love those lives so much I can’t even consider the possibility of them being to push any particular ship. But if we are counting them, Taekook have been in 5 compared to jikook for instance who did 4 together(i can’t believe i’m fucking counting this). The gap there just isn’t significant enough for me to consider it as Taekook being pushed *shrugs*. Similarly the second set of pictures I posted were all in the span of just over the last year or so— coway, japan magazine, webtoon promo. Taekook and Yoonmin aren’t together in any of those units either so it’s kinda unfair that you pick and choose the few subunits they’re in together to prove this point.

About jihope— jimin was breathing down Hobi’s neck while he was in front of a camera talking to ARMY so if that’s free time then… It’s also bold to say “not the company’s decision” when we don’t know which parts of it was controlled. I can’t confidently say the seating arrangement or position for pictures were the company’s decision cause I really don’t know. (This is not me saying or implying jihope we’re set to play around by the company, i’m just saying we don’t know if the other stuff were BH’s choice for the boys) They (jihope) were sitting next to each other in the project planning and sat and stood together for a few pictures, exactly like Yoonmin and Taekook did (and tkk and ynm technically weren’t even next to eo in the planning part but we’ll move). I’m just playing devil’s advocate here. I love jihope and it’s not a problem to me that they interact but I love Taekook and Yoonmin as well so…devil’s advocate it is I guess.

I think this is 3/3 of me saying this in my answers to you but if you look for Taekook, you’ll see Taekook. If you think they’re being pushed, they’ll be pushed to you. I might’ve mentioned this in my initial post but I didn’t even know about this whole push thing until I started peeping into certain shipper spaces because i’ve never seen Tkk like that just cause they aren’t the first ship I gravitate to.

I was going to just say let’s agree to disagree because this is getting a bit redundant but I’m a bit stubborn and you seem to be too😅.

[theangellies]

jamesdunhams​:

“ perhaps! ” james agrees with a laugh, leaning back into his chair against the velveted cushion with his arms propped up on the armrests, not unlike sitting on a throne. his body finds the posture naturally, but maybe if he knew val could see him, or if he knew the company required it, he’d have maintained the close distance and sat like a regular fucking person. “ it’s a habit of mine. i want good things for good people,” he says, a little cheekily to make up for ordering for a grown ass man, “ and it’s no fun drinking whiskey alone. ”

the drinks arrive just in time for val’s comment. james quirks a brow at val, as if he’s spoken in a language as outrageous as pig latin. “ do i even want to know what ‘making money moves’ means? ” it sounds like val is calling james a stripper — or maybe that’s just where his mind is at, hopeful in seeing dez later.

“ well, ” he looks down at his glass and slowly tilts it side to side, the ice cubes clashing against the crystal over and over again. “ i’m looking for a new chief of staff, but i haven’t found one i like yet. ” it’s not exactly fresh or interesting but he’s hoping to get the word round, maybe val knows someone and james trusts their intuition. “ yes, i took eliza, although she’s only eight. ” james closes one eye, places a finger over his lips and makes a ‘shh’ sound. “ but she loved it, and wants to watch it again. ” then, an idea springs to mind. “ why don’t you come with us? give me an afternoon when you’re free and i can arrange something. she’s a big fan. ” he can book out the theatre, make sure it’s accessible for them.

“ alright, ” he says, impressed. “ that sounds cool. ” james has always been slightly jealous of those making a living out of the arts. “ what is it about? who have you reached out to so far? ”

.....

“So sweet.” Val teases with a chuckle, finding the new drink set nearby and slipped into their hand. It’s good - Val normally drinks something a little sweeter, but they’ll also drink just about anything. So if James wants them to down some whiskey, they will do it happily. “Making money moves! I dunno, just sounds impressive. Like, eh. Havin’ big business conversations. Getting that money, you know!” Val laughs.

“A new chief of staff... and y’didn’t even ask me yet? A blind genderfluid author? We’d be unstoppable. Get all those votes.” Val is teasing - they really aren’t into politics, unless some intel requires them talking about it with some boring old man. And they both know Val wouldn’t be good at that job anyways. While he’s certainly creative and innovative, and charming (if Val does say so himself), the author certainly isn’t politically-minded, and organization isn’t his strong suit either. 

Val raises eyebrows, pale eyes seeming to spark with curiosity at the idea of going to experience the Barbie movie with James and Eliza. “I mean, I’d love to. As long as they’ve got those headphones for me, I’ll be good.” Val leans on the table, sips the whiskey carefully. “The screenplay? It’s based on my book series. Margot Sees Magic - the middlegrade fantasy series I wrote?” Val reminds with a little tease. In reality, they have 2 books out, a third coming in a few months. “They want to make it into a series, for kids. It’s been doing well with uh, merch... toys, dolls. They think it could be a great show. I think we’re talking to a few channels on actual TV, and some streaming services.” 

[tennessoui]

if you wrote obikin for #4 with anakin as a single parent and obi-wan as luke and leia's teacher i would simply die happy!!

here it is!!! thank you so much!

4. Teacher/Single Parent AU (modern!AU)(DinLuke shows up as little kids)(2.4k)(whoops)

Anakin stares across the table at Luke, who gnaws on a slice of grilled cheese, carefully leaving the crusts behind. Oh god, he’d forgotten to cut them off of Luke’s sandwich, had cut them off of Leia’s instead, even though she didn’t mind them. And of course they hadn’t told him either. He can’t tell if he’s been forgiven for his error or if it will come back to haunt him later tonight when he tries to put the twins to bed at eight.

“Luke,” he says carefully. “I think I’m just a little confused.”

Leia looks up. She loves when her father is a little confused because it means Luke is probably a bit in trouble and she gets to be the one to set the record straight for him.

Which isn’t to say Leia is a tattle-tale. Anakin’s seen her watch Luke hit another child upside the head with a toy train and then say absolutely nothing when questioned by the daycare instructor.

Daddy’s interrogations are just a special case where she can become a guilt-free turncoat.

“How did you get a Unicorn sticker in art class?” he asks.

The Unicorn stickers, of course, mean unsatisfactory.

He pays extra money for his children to be coddled and kept away from words like Fail and Unsatisfactory, even though that’s what all the parents know the stickers mean. As long as the children don't yet.

“And I don’t understand the rainbow sticker at all,” he continues helplessly, regarding the piece of artwork in front of him, where a handful of dried macaroni noodles are lacklusterly glued to the page.

“The Unicorn sticker means it was bad, but the rainbow sticker means that Mr. Kenobi forgives him,” Leia pipes up, leaning across the table to take the icky crusts from her brother’s plate and dipping them into her tomato soup.

“But it was dry macaroni,” Anakin says incredulously. Luke’s eyes start getting misty as he stares resolutely down at his plate. That’s the last thing Anakin wants. But he just doesn’t understand. Luke’s the most creative of both of his children, has seemed to take after Anakin in that way. Last Christmas, Anakin had given him a model train set that he’d put together inside of a week. If he can do that, he can do a self-portrait in dry macaroni.

“He gave Din all of his noodles,” Leia reports.

“Didn’t Din have any?” Anakin asks, feeling completely out of his element and also sort of like a detective trying to solve a cold case.

“He wanted to save them for his puppy,” Luke mumbles. “They just got him and they can’t figure out what he eats, so Din thought he could try macaroni because I told him I like macaroni and cheese a lot.”

Anakin is on the cliff of despair, but he can’t exactly ask whether or not this Din knows there’s a difference between the dried macaroni from art class and boxed macaroni and cheese from Kraft. He’s not sure he even wants to know the answer.

“And then Luke didn’t have a lot left for his picture,” Leia finishes the story and her soup in one fell swoop.

“Couldn’t you have asked Mr. Kenobi for more?” Anakin asks Luke who shakes his head but doesn’t seem to want to elaborate. Anakin turns only slightly pleading eyes to Leia, who is the expert on anything her brother doesn’t want to say.

“Mr. Kenobi sits at the front, and Luke sat at the back today so it was really far.”

“But you always sit at the front!” Anakin says, appalled. Sure, he hadn’t managed to make it to the most recent round of parent-teacher conferences due to an unfortunately timed shift at the garage, but he knows where his kids sit in a classroom.

Luke mumbles something into his bowl.

“What was that?” Anakin asks.

Leia translates. “Din doesn’t sit at the front,” she says.

Anakin sits back in his chair and runs a hand over his mouth. Luke has a crush. His son, Luke, has his very first crush on a boy and he’s already doing stupid things in order to see the boy. Oh no. Oh god. Of all the things to take after Anakin on, it’s this one.

“Okay,” he says, mostly to himself. “It’s okay. Unicorns aren’t so bad.”

“Way better than giraffes,” Leia tells her brother bracingly, seeming to know instinctively that the gossiping part of this conversation is over. “And you got a rainbow, which means Mr. Kenobi isn’t mad.”

Anakin wonders, with the context, if that’s actually what the rainbow means, or if Mr. Kenobi isn’t just incredibly observant.

“TV time, kids,” he says, only feeling sort of bad about the screentime or whatever, as Luke perks up and runs with Leia into the living room.

After five minutes to make sure they’ve successfully turned on and found a child-appropriate show, Anakin gathers the dishes and loads the washer. Then he sighs as loud as he can without disrupting the kids.

Then he pulls out his phone and the school directory and finds the email for one Mr. Obi-Wan Kenobi, art teacher.

It takes him twenty minutes to figure out an email that doesn’t sound too judgemental, harsh, worried, skeptical, or angry. It takes another five minutes to figure out how to sign off on it. Kind regards? Best? Thanks? Sincerely? What is the etiquette for emailing your son’s art teacher to arrange a meeting because you’re worried your son will fail the class simply because he’s inherited terrible genes from his father?

It takes ten minutes, in the end, for Mr. Kenobi to email back, and he does so with a very straightforward message. He’s available to chat after school hours tomorrow, if it works for Anakin.

Anakin pulls up his work schedule. He’s supposed to work until five in the evening tomorrow, has already booked a slot at the after-care program for the twins. But.

He texts Ahsoka to ask if she could cover the last few hours of his shift. She texts back a string of rather offensive emojis, but settles down when he tells her it’s for his kids. Technically, he isn’t even lying. He’s just being overbearing.

He spends another fifteen minutes trying to compose a response email in between making sure the kids brush their teeth, wash behind their ears, and have their bags packed for the morning. He’s so stressed out by it that he’s not even sure he includes a signature at all before he hits send. God. Meeting Mr. Kenobi had better be worth all of this stress.

---

Finding Mr. Kenobi’s classroom is almost more stress than the correspondence from the night before had been. The only reason Anakin doesn’t sit down and cry against the garishly yellow brick lining the hallways is that he keeps telling himself that if his two seven-year-olds can do this, Anakin surely can.

The art classroom is tucked away in a forgotten corner of the school and it takes three wrong turns and one accidental entrance into a thankfully deserted first grade room for Anakin to find it. He knocks on the open door and then decides he should call as well to announce his presence. “Uh, Mr. Kenobi? I’m Anakin. Skywalker. We talked last night?” He takes a couple of steps into the room, which is lined in children’s art and paint-stained tables.

A man emerges from a backroom, dressed in a very loose and paint-flecked denim shirt over a white tank top and a pair of slacks. He’s wearing a pair of thick glasses that he takes off as soon as he sees Anakin. His beard is neatly trimmed and his hair, a sort of bronzed auburn, neatly combed.

He’s holding a paintbrush in one hand, and still, of course, Anakin’s dumb brain overrides the part of him that’s saying, This is clearly Mr. Kenobi in favor saying, quite politely, “Oh! I’m sorry. Is Mr. Kenobi back there?”

The man who could not possibly be more obviously the art teacher raises an amused eyebrow.

Look. No one told Anakin that elementary school art teachers could be so attractive. He’d not done anything to prepare for this.

“You must be Luke’s father,” Mr. Kenobi says, waving him forward.

“What makes you say that?” Anakin asks, a tad too defensively, thinking of his own self-deprecating thoughts last night about Luke taking after him when it comes to being sort of stupid around people they liked. He’s just being paranoid.

“The...last...name,” now Mr. Kenobi is definitely trying to hide his smile and Anakin wants to die. “Would you like to sit?”

Anakin does so rather graciously, given the circumstances. He even makes sure he keeps their chairs very far apart. Mostly in order to preserve his own dignity, but he thinks he should get credit for his self-control at this spur of the moment single-parent-hot-teacher conference.

“I’m sorry for my appearance,” Mr. Kenobi says, pulling the oversized button up closed over his tank top. “I must admit, I mostly forgot you were coming by. I was working on one of my own projects.”

“You paint?” Anakin asks.

Mr. Kenobi tilts his head slightly and flicks his eyes around the room as if in answer.

Anakin flushes but digs his heels in. “Well, I don’t know,” he mumbles mulishly. “Do math teachers do math in their spare time?”

This startles a laugh out of the teacher, which makes some long forgotten part of Anakin’s psyche sit up and preen. “I’m sure some of them do,” he says. “No, I do art mostly for the town right now. I’m working on a series of pieces for the public library at the moment.”

Anakin tries his hardest not to obviously melt, but Mr. Kenobi has not looked away from his face much so surely he can see it in his eyes.

“That’s quite. Nice,” Anakin says, coughing into his fist.

“And what do you do?” Mr. Kenobi asks in a way that’s just on the other side of polite. Anakin has the strange thought that if they had cups of coffee between them, he’d feel like he was on a very casual first date.

He has to shake his head to rid himself of that idea. “I’m a mechanic,” he says.

Mr. Kenobi looks interested, of all things. Most people don’t. Most people make some sort of assumption about him, about his life, his ability to parent his children, as if they’re not the ones rolling into his shop at 5:54 pm because their car is “making a funny noise”.

But Mr. Kenobi just looks interested.

“Oh?” He says. “That makes sense. Leia is always talking about how her father can fix anything.”

“Well,” Anakin blushes and looks away. “You know kids. Turn it off and turn it back on usually blows their minds.”

Mr. Kenobi smiles indulgently before clearing his throat. “You wanted to talk about Luke?”

“Oh! Yes!” He had come here with the express desire to talk about Luke with Mr. Kenobi. Not secure a date with Mr. Kenobi. “I saw that Luke got a... unicorn...and a rainbow on his last project, and it made me worry.”

It sounds very, very overbearing coming out of his mouth. This is an elementary school art class. Why did he think that he should come in and talk to a teacher over his son’s bad grade? Especially when it was pretty clear Luke deserved it.

Mr. Kenobi tilts his head in confusion. “Well, yes, I suppose I usually give Luke two suns on his work, so I understand if the change was upsetting to you.”

“And we’re saying that two suns are good?” Anakin checks, feeling very out of his element here.

“Oh, yes, very good,” Mr. Kenobi assures him. “But his last project wasn’t. Well.”

“He says he got distracted,” Anakin mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. “Over a boy.”

“Haven’t we all been there,” Mr. Kenobi murmurs, sounding very amused. Anakin peeks over his fingers at this declaration.

“Yeah,” he says roughly. “That’s sort of exactly what I thought.”

Mr. Kenobi clears his throat again. “Well. That’s why I gave him the unicorn then. It was a bit of bad work, but a very rare showing of it. And the rainbow, to signify that I know he’ll be back to normal again next time. You shouldn’t worry about this one project either, Mr. Skywalker. I do give final grades holistically, not weighted by any one assignment. This is, after all, a children’s art class.”

Anakin wants to thunk his head on the table in front of him. “You do know that all the parents think unicorn means unsatisfactory, right?”

“Why?” Mr. Kenobi has the nerve to look shocked.

“They both start with U, I don’t know,” Anakin says, waving an agitated hand through the air.

“Well, sometimes parents can be quite stupid,” Mr. Kenobi says primly and then looks horrified at himself. “Please don’t tell them I said that.”

Anakin laughs and gets to his feet reluctantly. His worries over Luke have been dealt with, but he finds himself very reluctant to leave.

“Well,” he says slowly, eyes firmly looking only at Mr. Kenobi’s face, “Thank you for meeting with me. I guess you don’t get many frantic parent-teacher conferences over a unicorn sticker.” He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck with his hand in embarrassment. He can admit now that perhaps he had overreacted.

Mr. Kenobi places his hand delicately over the hand Anakin still has on the table, just for a second, squeezing it with enough pressure that Anakin has to look up at him again. “Only the best parents,” he says with a half-smile.

Anakin finds himself grinning back, unwilling to move his hand now that Kenobi’s touching it. “And, um. If you ever take the kids on an art museum tour or something, and you need chaperones….give me a call.”

“Would I have to wait that long?” Kenobi asks innocently.

Anakin’s never shaken his head no so quickly before. “Any time,” he tells the man very seriously, already backing out of the room. “Before you think too much about it and decide not to would probably be preferable.”

Mr. Kenobi laughs. “I’m sure I’ll think about it a lot,” he says as he turns to go back to his art studio. He calls over his shoulder. “In bed, tonight.”

Anakin trips over a child-sized easel with a loud clatter and an even louder curse, and he can’t decide which of the two should be more thankful school is out for the day. Probably Mr. Kenobi. Yeah. Probably definitely Mr. Kenobi.

[taleasnewastime]

The Wedding

Summary: A wedding of close friends is always a nice occasion. But what if your ex is attending. And what if that ex also happens to be sat at the same table as you with a date. Hopefully the mysterious stranger sitting by you at dinner can help save the day.

Pairing: Jin x reader  

Genre: fluff; smut; angst

Word count: 11.2k

Authors Note: Happy (belated) Birthday Jin!! I hope he had a fabulous day, he deserves it. Here is a not so little story to celebrate. (Note to self, work on better titles for stories). I hope you all enjoy :)

It had been 4 months. 4 months since you and Harry finally decided you would end your 2-year relationship. Though that makes it sound like a mutual decision. What is it that celebrity’s call it when they’re getting a divorce? Irreconcilable differences. As if there is nothing wrong, just a change in feelings. A mutual decision where two people decide, hey this isn’t working shall we just call it quits?

But that’s not how it felt to you. Harry had told you he wanted to end the relationship and you had no other option but to go along with it. What could you really have done? Refuse? And what, Harry would have just been like sure and stayed with you? No. You left the relationship holding some of your pride (you hoped), agreeing that it was best the relationship ended, even if that wasn’t what you wanted.

In all honesty it may have broken your heart more to do that then to have begged him to stay.

4 months may seem like a long time to some people, but after 2 years together, 4 months felt like a mere second to you. If you think about it you can still picture his face when he sat you down and told you that he no longer loved you. You can still feel the pain of your heart shattering in that moment. You can still feel the tears that ran down your face like a stream. You can feel the nod of your head as you struggle to hear his words, just nodding in agreement to whatever he is saying. And you can still see his back as he walked out the door, leaving you behind.  

Friends had told you he was not worth it, that you should move on. And it’s not like you hadn’t tried, you’d gone on a few dates, but none of them lived up to him. Which you were the first to admit sounded stupid, what guy that chose to leave you like that deserves you to grieve that much over him? You told yourself that you were just waiting for the right person to come along, but they were yet to show up. And it made you wonder whether Harry was it, whether he was the one that got away, whether you should have fought harder for him to stay, whether he was as good as it was ever going to get.

The last time you had seen him was when he walked out on you, and as you walk into the church of your friend's wedding there should have been no surprise when you see Harry sitting on the groom's side of the church. They were mutual friends after all, you friends with the bride, him the groom. Though you expected him to be here, there is still a bit of shock that courses through you when you see his figure.  

Listening to your friend Eleanor talk as you enter the church, you look around in search of some empty seats when you see him. The black suit jacket fits a little loose on his frame, making it look like he picked it up last minute and got one that didn't quite fit right. But seeing his back causes flash backs of him walking out the door to run through your mind. Eleanors voice seems to fade into the background when you see him, only brought back to the present when she tugs lightly on your arm, directing you to a couple of empty seats.  

You attempt to push him from your mind, try to not glance over at him whenever you get the chance. From this angle you can only see his shoulder, and if the people in between you are aligned just right, you get a glance of his side profile. You can see that his hair is styled in the way that you always loved, his dark slightly curly hair flops down over his face covering his eyebrows a few strands poking into his eyes.  

Focusing on the wedding, watching your friend walk down the aisle, you manage to distract yourself enough to not think of him. Dressed in white, your friend looks beautiful and you have to hold back a few tears when they say their vowels. Standing to clap and cheer when the bride and groom kiss, you watch as they then walk back down the aisle hand in hand, beaming.  

Happiness is your overriding emotion, however you can’t help the pang of jealousy that swells within you, wishing that was you.  

Taking the glass of prosecco that is handed to you when you walk into the reception, you have to stop yourself from downing it all in one, instead taking one massive gulp. Eleanor and you had booked into a hotel close by, recommended by the bride and groom, so you had always planned to have a few drinks. The appearance of Harry only confirmed the fact that large quantities of alcohol were going to be consumed.  

“I heard that they have a tab behind the bar and when it’s gone it’s up to us to pay,” Eleanor says as she comes to stand beside you, both waiting behind a large group of people who are all trying to find their table for the dinner.  

“Are you trying to encourage me to get drunk?” You raise your eyebrows at her, taking another gulp of your drink.  

“Merely stating facts,” she replies. “What with the hotel, buying a new dress and having to get the happy couple a gift, I think we deserve a few free drinks.”

“You have a point,” you sigh, taking another gulp of your drink nearly finishing your glass as you shuffle ever closer to dining room door. “Why are weddings so expensive? I thought they were supposed to be pricey for bride and groom, not for their guests as well.”  

“All I can say is, the food better be good,” she says as you finally come to stand in front of the board detailing where everyone is to be sat. “Right, where are we?”  

Your eyes dart across the chart looking for your names.  

“I hope we haven’t been shoved near the loos,” you joke, eyes still searching.  

“Oh, come on, we’re better than that right?” Eleanor panics slightly at yours words.  

“I don’t know, you were just saying that you’re going to drink them clean of their alcohol,” you joke, laughing lightly when you look at the worry written on Eleanors face.  

“Oh shit,” she says, her face going from worry to shock, the colour almost draining from her face as she turns from the seating chart to you.  

You give a small humourless chuckle as you look at her, blood pumping so hard you can almost hear it in your ears.  

“Don’t tell me they’ve actually put us by the toilets,” you say.

“We’ve actually got pretty good seats,” she replies, though concern swims through her eyes. “Maybe we should get a top up before we sit down.”  

You cock your head to the side in question as you look at her. Turning to look over the chart, you are more desperate now to see your name. “Where are we?” You say at the same moment you read your name.  

Eleanor was right, you did have pretty good seats. A clear view of the head table where the bride and groom sat, prime seats for when the food would arrive, and easy access to get to the bar and eventually the dance floor. Yet all of this was monstrously over shadowed by the fact that opposite you sat the one person you were hoping to avoid, Harry.

“He’ll be so far away we won’t even notice he’s there,” Eleanor reasons as you continue to stare blankly at the name on the board.  

“I think I’d rather the toilet seats,” you say seriously, before you can catch yourself. “No, you know what? It’ll be fine. I had to see him at some point today, why not at dinner?” You rearrange your face, attempting to look like the whole situation wasn’t affecting you at all. “Another drink is a good idea though,” you say before gulping down the last few dregs in your glass.  

Eleanor follows suit, necking her own drink before dragging you over to the near empty bar, everyone else still on their first glass.  

“I mean why the hell would she sit you and your ex on the same table?” Eleanor turns to you after ordering two drinks, she almost seems angrier than you.  

“It hasn’t been that long, they probably couldn’t rearrange it all,” you tap your fingers on the bar, nerves building up within you at the thought of the meal ahead.  

“It’s been four months, that’s enough time to change some seats around,” Eleanor sighs as the bartender places two wines down.  

“Maybe not in wedding speak,” you don’t know why you are trying to defend the decision but you don’t want this evening to be ruined by your ex.  

“Anyway, it will be fine, I’ll be there and I’m sure everyone else at the table will be nice. We’ll still have a great time,” she hooks her arm with yours as she slowly makes her way into the dining room. Unsure why she is trying to convince you on the matter when you haven’t protested at all, you guess that’s just what good friends are for, knowing what to say even when you haven’t said anything.  

Letting her drag you to the seats your nerves build to a crescendo when you finally see the seats that are assigned to you. Flicking your eyes to the opposite side of the table to you see the distinctive curly hair, heart pounding in your chest as you remove your eyes from him, not wanting to be looking at him when you reach the table.  

“This is us,” Eleanor comes to a stop and places her bag on the ground before pulling the chair away from the table.  

Following suit, you keep your eyes down as you busy yourself with arranging your dress so it sits straight. The seat next to you is unoccupied, someone running late from the wedding you reason as your hand reaches for your glass to take another sip of your drink as you build up enough courage to look around the rest of your table. Eleanor is already talking to the cute guy sitting to her left, so you have nothing to distract you.  

Next to the empty seat sits a woman in her mid 30s her hair tied up in a neat bun. Next to her is a young child, no older than 10 who sits colouring in a predesigned image, concentration all over their face. Harry is next, and your heart involuntarily pangs in your chest when you look at him. You still don’t have a full front on view of him as he is turned talking to the person next to him, but you can now see the crisp white shirt he wears, that seems to fit better than the suit jacket, a slim blue tie around his neck. You can more clearly see his features now too, his round face, blue eyes seeming to contrast the rest of his dark features, his lips are a bright red and are pulled back showing off his straight white teeth as he laughs at something. You take all of this in in mere seconds, not wanting to linger on him in case he catches you.  

Moving around the table your heart plummets when you see who he is talking to, who is causing him to smile so brightly, who is causing the slight pink to creep up his neck. More beautiful than you could ever dream of being, the woman sits straight backed in an emerald strappy silk dress. Her features are delicate, yet you are sure that everyone would look at her if she were to enter a room. Her hair is dark and cascades down her back in perfectly formed curls.  

Your eyes skim the rest of the table, barely taking anyone else in as you turn to look at Eleanor who is already staring at you. Giving a tight closed lipped smile you don’t do a good job at trying to convince her you’re fine.  

Here you sit, single and dateless at a wedding, when your ex of four months sits at the same table, appearing to have completely forgotten you, bringing a date to a wedding he would surely know you would attend. As if reading your mind, Eleanors hand gently squeezes your leg under the table, almost transferring some of her strength to you.  

You would have hoped that Harry would have at least acknowledged your presence, would have at least said hi to you, or at worst given a gentle nod of recognition. But he instead seems to not even notice you are there.

Staring into your glass, you get lost in your own thoughts. Watching the liquid swirl around the edge of the glass to the rhythm of your hand movements. Beads of liquid roll down the edge of the glass when you let it rest.

“Got a lot of wine legs there, must be quality stuff.”

You jump at the sound of a male voice on your right, head whipping in the direction of the sound. Your eyes widen when you realise that the previously empty seat is now taken, and not just that but the man that occupies the seat is devastatingly handsome. He has pink plush lips that curve slightly at the edges to form a soft and welcoming smile, his cheeks seem to be squishable while also sculptured as if made from marble, he has dark brown hair that has been pushed away from his face exposing his forehead, and he has dark brown eyes that are welcoming. You watch as he takes off a dark jacket, using the opportunity to try and formulate a response to his opening statement. But as he drapes his jacket on the back of his chair you only ogle more. A black shirt adorns his chest, pulled not so tight that it looks small but so that you can see how muscular he is as well as showing off his broad shoulders.  

Your eyes dart back up to his when he turns back to look at you, not wanting him to know you had been checking him out.  

“I thought that was an old wife's tale,” you speak and then feel the need to clarify, as it seems an eternity since he last spoke. “The wine legs thing.”  

“Could be. My friend told me and 99% of his facts are incorrect,” he says, smile still on his face.  

“I also highly doubt Ben and Laura would have splashed the cash on anything expensive,” you refer to the bride and groom.  

“They do seem to have blown the budget on flowers,” he laughs, and you join in as you look around the room that has flowers covering most surfaces. Even the wooden beams on the ceiling had some sort of foliage hanging off it, making the place look beautiful. It must have cost a small fortune.  

“Don’t they know the way to a good wedding is through alcohol? They could have held this in a school hall and everyone would have been happy as long as there was free booze,” you say.  

“They obviously didn’t get the memo,” he replies and there's a moment pause before he says, “anyway, you must be Y/N.”  

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the fact he knows your name. Thoughts of whether you had met him before are cut off by him explaining.  

“The name cards,” his hand does a sweep of the table where names are placed to show where people sit.  

Heat rushes to your face as you realise. Trying to cover this up you glance down at the name card in front of him.

“Jin?” You look back up at him and see a wider smile on his face as he looks at you.  

“That’s me,” he beams and you can’t help but copy, his smile infectious. “So, are you here for the bride or groom?”  

“The bride,” you say. “We used to work together. What about you?”  

“Groom,” he nods. “He’s a friend from childhood. I actually don’t know many people here so I’m glad they’ve placed me next to someone fairly normal.”  

You shy at his words, turning to look at your glass, as your face continues to heat. “You might not be saying that by the time we get to dessert. You’ll be running to the dance floor just to get away from me,” you try and joke and are pleased when you hear an almost squeaky laugh leave his lips. Looking at him you can see it is genuine, his head leaning back slightly as his eyes close.  

“Honestly, maybe weird is better. Plus, I’ll be running to the dance floor anyway, I am a notoriously good dancer,” he says when he has calmed enough to talk.  

“Cha cha slide?” You ask.

He gives a small laugh mouth opening to reply but before any words leave his lips a hand is placed on your shoulder and you are gently moved backwards in your seat.  

“Finally decided to join the table,” Eleanor says as she leans over you so she can speak to Jin. You wonder whether they know each other and then remember that Eleanor is just that forward and friendly.

“I did hear rumours it was the best table in the place. But then I am sat here,” Jin gives a small shrug of his shoulders at the statement.

“I think that only applies to this half of the table,” Eleanor says loudly and you visibly cringe. “Anyway, me and Jordan were just placing bets on what food we’re going to be forced to eat,” she carries on, waving a hand towards the man sat beside her, presumably Jodan who gives a small wave.  

“Easy, isn’t it always a hog roast at these things,” you roll your eyes at her.  

“Wow, wow, wow,” Jin says dramatically. “Ben would never stoop that low. It will definitely be some sort of chicken.”  

“And just how well do you know Ben? Don’t tell me you’re cheating here and already know the answer,” Eleanor accuses, her finger coming up to point at him as if to better prove her point.

As they bicker and joke about what food is going to be served, you are suddenly aware of how this is the complete opposite to how you expected this meal to go. As soon as you had seen that Harry was sat on the same table as you, your blood had run cold and yet since Jin had arrived you weren’t even aware of his presence at the table. This thought is cut short when you take a glance at him and you can see he is scolding in your direction, the girl sitting by him seems to be unaware that his attention is no longer on her as she continues to talk at him.  

Heat rises to your face as you catch his eyes, if looks could kill you would surely be six foot under by now. Wishing you were strong enough to hold his gaze, you instead look down at your lap, fingers fiddle with the material of your dress.  

Mere minutes ago you had wanted him to acknowledge your existence, and now he was you couldn’t even hold his gaze. Though when you imaged him looking at you, it wasn’t with the hatred currently in his eyes. You wonder what right he had to look at you like that when he was the one that had completely ignored you when you arrived, and the one that had brought a date with him.

As you think this though you realise that maybe he thinks Jin is your date. Maybe the girl he is talking to isn’t his date and exactly what Jin is to you, just someone who happens to be sitting next to you at a wedding. Maybe you were the one being a hypocrite and you had judged him just as quickly as he was now judging you.

All thoughts are cut off when a plate is placed in front of you. Jumping slightly at its arrival.  

“Told you, roast chicken,” Jin says smugly looking down at the food.  

“I still think you cheated,” Eleanor replies.  

“Ask Ben if you have any doubts,” Jin points his fork at Eleanor while he chews on some broccoli.  

“No doubt you’ve sworn him into some sort of secrecy,” she scowls at him before taking a bite of her own food and turning to talk to Jordan.  

“I mean, I didn’t,” Jin mumbles with a pout and you give a small chuckle at how serious the discussion had become while you zoned out.

“Go on then, if you’re so good at all of this, what will their first dance be to?” You look at him with a smirk.  

“Ben does love the macarena,” Jin says and his face visibly lightens when he watches you laugh.  

“Now that would be some first dance,” you say through your laugh.  

“It would be the song I’d pick,” his voice is full of cheekiness.  

“I pity the girl,” you smile at him.

“Oh really,” his eyebrows raise almost in challenge. “I’ll have you know I’m quite the catch.”

“And yet I see no date,” you raise your eyebrows back at him.

“Everyone knows that weddings are the perfect place to meet people. It’s all the love, people can’t help but want to experience it themselves.”

“Desperation you mean,” you stab your fork into a potato. “Hoping to score a bridesmaid?”

“Not sure I would call it desperation,” his eyes are still on you as you continue to eat. “And none of the bridesmaids really caught my eye.”  

“Hum. Yellow was a bold choice for their dresses, even if it is pastel. I guess Laura didn’t want to risk being shown up,” you agree with him. “But, I bet when you speak to them their personalities will shine through,” your voice is thick with sarcasm and you watch as Jins face lights up at the joke.  

His mouth opens to reply but once again he is interrupted, this time by the groom standing up and someone tapping a spoon onto a glass. You swear you hear a small sigh leave Jins lips as the room falls silent for the speeches, but when you look at him a smile is still on his face as he looks towards his friend.  

The speeches threaten to make you spill some tears, especially when the bride's father starts to well up when giving his speech. By the time it’s all over you hardly get to speak to Jin as he is dragged into conversation with the woman on his right before the party portion of the evening starts.  

Everyone gathers around the dance floor when plates are finally cleared from the meal and as you had predicted Jin disappears between you leaving the table and going to the dance floor. You are unable to spot him as you look around the crowd and decide that he is probably doing as you predicted and seeking out a single bridesmaid. You concentrate on Laura and Ben dancing around the floor in each other's arms as they stare lovingly into each other eyes.

“Can I have this dance,” you hold out your hand and bow lowly to Eleanor as the DJ invites couples to join the bride and groom on the dance floor.  

Chuckling Eleanor places her hand in yours as you pull her onto the floor, putting your arms around her waist as hers fall around your neck like all the other couples. You and Eleanor had decided to be each other's dates to the wedding, both single. Though you are sure that Eleanor could easily have snapped up a date, you were grateful she offered that you go together.  

“Thanks for coming with me today,” you say as you sway around the dance floor.  

“Don’t be stupid, there’s no one I would have rather come with. Plus, if I had brought a date that cute guy I was sitting by wouldn’t have chatted me up,” she says, giving you a cheeky smirk.  

“Hey, you’re my date,” you mock offence. “Though if he asks nicely, maybe I’ll let him steal you for a dance or two.”

Eleanor’s face visibly lights up at your words though she quickly tries to hide it. “I’m sure that Jin will be asking to dance with you before long.”

“I’m not sure he was interested,” you scrunch up your face at her words.

“Well, you are obviously blind.”

“I think I saw him going off to chat up one of the bridesmaids,” you lie in the hopes it will be enough for her to drop the topic.  

“Oh really?” She would sound genuinely surprised, if not for the heavy sarcasm in her voice. “Because I think I see him stood watching you.”  

Your head almost snaps in the direction she is looking and sure enough Jin stands on the edge of the dance floor, fresh drink in hand as he watches you dance around the floor. Just as quickly as you look at him, you look away heat rising to your face.  

“He’s probably just thinking what a terrible dancer I am,” you half mumble.  

“Again, I’m not so sure,” cheekiness is now the overriding tone of Eleanors voice, which is mirrored by the big smile on her face. “If I’m not mistaken, I think he’s actually walking over to us now. Maybe he’s coming to tell you what a terrible dancer you are in person,” the sarcasm returns to her voice as you freeze in her arms.  

Your back had been swung in the direction of where Jin was stood so you cannot confirm what Eleanor is saying without obviously looking over your shoulder. But it doesn’t take long for her statement to be revealed as true as a tall figure comes to stand by your side.  

“Mind if I steal your partner?” The voice you recognised from earlier asks Eleanor and you watch as she nods, stepping away from you.  

Your eyes widen at her, silently pleading for her to stay, though you are unsure why.  

“But I want her back later,” she says as she walks off in search of another dance partner.  

Jin steps so he is now stood in front of you and you are surprised by how tall he is, his broad shoulders and frame only making him seem that much larger.  

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says as he looks down at you.

“Not at all,” you gulp down your nerves. “I was hoping to see these amazing dance moves anyway.”

Laughing he gently reaches out to place his hands on your waist, pulling you lightly so that you can more easily drape your arms around his neck.  

“I’d hate to disappoint,” he smirks down at you, and you have to look away from his gaze.  

A silence falls over the two of you as you gently sway to the music, Jin expertly guiding you around the room. You feel comfortable in his presence, but struggle to meet his eyes, instead choosing to look at his chest. This isn’t much better though as his black shirt has the top three buttons undone, causing a glimpse of his chest. You almost feel like a Victorian with how that small amount of skin gets you hot.  

“Black is a bold choice for a wedding,” you finally break the silence, looking up to see he is already looking down at you.  

“Do you not think it looks good?” He asks, though his face says he already knows your answer.  

“I guess it’s just a colour more aligned to a funeral,” you ignore his question.  

“Well, I am mourning the loss of one of my best friends. Now he’s married I will hardly see him anymore,” he says this with a wide smile on his face.

“Oh come on, you’re not one of those people, are you? You really believe married life is like a death sentence?”  

“I never said death sentence,” he is quick to correct you.  

“You said you were mourning the loss of your friend, that implies death,” you raise your eyebrows at him.  

“Alright, maybe that was a bit extreme,” he laughs. “I guess I’m not totally sold on the whole wedding thing. Like you said, why not just get loads of booze and throw it in a cheap hall somewhere. Do you really need all of this to tell everyone that you are madly in love?” He looks around the room to further his point. “I’d be happy just to go to the registry office and do it all in secret. Is that not more romantic?”

“Hiding your partner away from everyone? Romantic,” you tease. “But you’re not completely opposed to getting married?”  

“Hiding her away so that she can be all mine? I think romantic,” he shoots back. “But I guess I’d have to find the right person first,” his words come out deeper and smoother than previously, and again you have to break his eye contact.  

The song that was playing choices this moment to stop, the DJ mixing in a more up-tempo track. People all around you break from their swaying and start to dance with more enthusiasm, arms being thrown in the air. You remain in Jins arms, breaking a second before it comes awkward, you being the first to step away looking around the room as you do.  

“You should definitely get talking to those bridesmaids then. Maybe one of them is the one,” you try to make it sound sarcastic and like you don’t care, but it sounds anything but. “I’d hate to think I got in the way of anything,” you say, looking back at him to see a flicker of something cross his face. He opens his mouth to reply but for the third time that night you don’t let him get any words out. “I should probably go and find Eleanor anyway. I’d hate to think she’s all alone somewhere.”

Jin continues to stare at you, a now blank stare is on his face, making his emotions unreadable. He gives a small nod at your words.

“Thanks for the dance, it was nice,” you say lamely as you turn and walk away.  

Instead of hunting down Eleanor, like you had just said you were going to do, you head straight to the bar, happy when you find out drinks are still free. Standing, waiting for your drink, you think about the dance. Think about Jins hands on your waist, the feeling firm, yet safe. Think about the earthy and woody scent that was coming off of him. Think about seeing his face so close you could see all the muscles moving when his face contorted into a smile.  

A glass being placed down in front of you snaps you out of your thoughts, and you take a large gulp in the hopes that would also help to ease your mind. You are unsure why you had just bolted away from Jin as if it was a crime scene. He seemed like a nice guy, and to be honest at the moment a nice guy is exactly what you need. But the problem was that you were not what he needed. Currently still hung up on your ex, not in the best place mentally and just generally a mess, you didn’t want to lead him into anything just to leave him.  

And yet you can’t get him out of your head. You had only known him for the past few hours, only spoken to him for a portion of that time, but you feel yourself wanting to go back onto the dance floor and apologise, ask him to take you back in his arms and sway around the dance floor again. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t felt like this about anyone for ages that made you scared. Even when you were with Harry, towards the end, you didn’t feel this way about him. You had to admit that your relationship had started to lack the passion and desire it had at the start, but you had assumed that was normal after two years of being together. But that obviously wasn’t enough for Harry.  

You head is almost resting on your arms that lay on top of the bar when you hear a familiar voice. As if your thoughts had somehow summoned him.  

“Not with your date?” Harry’s words ring out and you tense at his words. Thoughts immediately flood your mind of how this is the opposite reaction you would have had a few months ago if you heard his voice.  

You turn slowly to look at Harry and see he looks somewhat more dishevelled than earlier. He has lost his tie and jacket, the top few buttons undone, and you note that while this was a turn on for Jin, you almost cringed at the look on Harry. His hair is also messier, a look that makes you think he has been running his hand through the curls all night, something you know he does when he’s stressed.  

“My date?” You question as you honestly have no idea who he is talking about. Annoyed at the fact that these are the first words he is speaking to you.

“The guy you were sat by at dinner?” He almost spits the words at you, and the action almost makes you smile. You’ve clearly gotten under his skin.  

“I could ask you the same thing,” you avoid answering his question, not wanting to give him any unnecessary details.  

“She’s gone to the toilet,” he waves a hand dismissively and your heart clenches at the confirmation he has brought a date with him.  

“Is it new?” You can’t help the curiosity, but curse at yourself for sounding like you care, which you do, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Harry is now the one that goes rigid at your words and gives a half mumble of “something like that,” that you catch. You turn and take another gulp of your drink, praying someone comes and saves you from this conversation.

“Listen,” Harry sighs, his body relaxing at the motion. “I didn’t come here to gloat or be mean or anything,” you have to bite the words could have fooled me back, instead remaining silent as you wait for him to continue. “I came here to say that I miss you.”

These are the last words that you expect to leave his lips. He was the one who had left you after all. He was the one that had said he had fallen out of love with you. He was the one that ended it and never called you again, left you with so many questions unanswered.

Instead of the effect that Harry must have hoped these words would cause, you feel almost sick when he says it. You feel like in the space of one wedding you have done a complete 180 in your feelings to the man currently stood in front of you.

But when you actually think about it, you had felt this way since he left you. If he had come to you before you still would have felt this hatred and sickness towards him. Because, honestly, you could never have gotten back with him after he had said that he had fallen out of love with you, however much you missed him. You would never been able to trust him again, always second guessing everything, always wondering when he was going to change his mind again and walk out the door.

The feelings you had felt towards him all this time, you now realised, was resentment. You resented that he was the one that left you and felt bitter at the fact that while you still loved him, he no longer loved you. And while you thought those feelings of love had stayed over the months, they had really morphed into something far uglier.  

It is only now as he stands so you can fully see him that you realise that you do not miss him, that you do not want him back and that you certainly do not love him. And it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.  

“You don’t seem like you miss me,” Harry says into the silence, realising that you are not going to be the one to break it. There is a sort of arrogance in his voice, as if he knows, or thinks, that he still has you.

“You are here with a date,” you have to remind him.

“I know. But Y/N, don’t you want to talk? I wanted to say that I regret -”

“No,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear any of the bullshit that spills out of his mouth. “No. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to hear you’re excuses or explanations or whatever the hell you are going to say. You left me, Harry. You fell out of love with me. And we are no longer together because of that so you have to deal with the consequences,” you turn and pick up your glass before looking at him.

Before you can walk away, he does a small side step so that he is stood in front of you, blocking your exit.  

“No listen to me,” he almost pleads, and it almost sounds good to hear it.  

“You have a date,” you remind him once again.

“Who I don’t care about.”

“I’m sure she will be thrilled to hear that.”

“I don’t care,” he almost screams the words, his arms flinging in the air as if to further his frustration. “I don’t care, ok?” He repeats softer. “I just care about you.”

You stare at him, looking into his eyes you try to read what's happening behind them, wishing you could see what he was thinking. And as the silence continues, you can see the arrogance return, as if he thinks he has you again. You wonder how you had never seen it in his eyes before.  

“Well, I don’t care,” you say and you can see the shock that comes into his eyes. He definitely wasn’t expecting that.  

“Y/N, come on. I’m sorry ok,” his pleading returns, and this time you just feel pity for him.

“You broke up with me Harry,” you remind him. “And so, I no longer have to stand here and listen to what you have to say.” Glass in hand you give him a final look before walking past him.

Heading back into where everyone is dancing you feel a mixture of emotions. Giddy at the fact that you had managed to keep your cool and say everything you wanted to say to Harry to his face, you would never have thought you’d be able to do that. But the sickness remains, confusion as to why Harry would come and say those words to you. He surely didn’t actually want you back? A selfishness must have come out from him seeing you sat with Jin, who he had assumed was your date. Was he really so petty to feel some sort of ownership over you, when he was sat with an actual date the other side of the table.  

And now you felt pity towards her. Did she know what Harry was saying about her behind her back? You kind of hoped it was nothing serious, you didn’t want him to break anyone the way he had broken you.

When you reach the edge of where everyone is dancing you have a quick glance behind you, seeing Harry in the same spot you left him, his date now at his side. Shaking your head at the scene, you push it from your mind and turn back in search of someone much better. When you spot her, you make your way over to Eleanor.  

“Where have you been?” Eleanor almost shouts when she sees you. “Good dance with Jin?” She wiggles her eyebrows and you roll your eyes.  

“You will never guess what happened,” you begin before going onto to retell the story of bumping into Harry and all the things he said to you.

“Well shit. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you,” she gives your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s alright. It was actually good in a way. I think I can finally see who he is now and how I am so much better without him. It was probably the best thing to happen tonight,” you say and Eleanors eyes widen at your statement.  

“God that’s really saying something since you danced with Jin,” she says and you laugh.  

“He’s probably long gone, scared away by me running away from him,” you sigh as you look around the room, unable to spot his figure anywhere. “Anyway, I just want to drink and dance and enjoy the night and then go and collapse in a bed that I have paid an extortionate amount for.”  

“Amen,” Eleanor says raising her glass for you to cheers.  

And that is exactly what you do. You drink, you dance and you enjoy the evening, with little thought of Harry. The man who instead plagues your thoughts is Jin. You find yourself looking for him as you dance, when you go to get another drink and when someone taps you on the shoulder you hope it’s him. But you never spot him, not even a peak of the top of his head or the back of his shoulder. Even as you wave off the happy couple as they leave for their honeymoon, Jin is nowhere in sight. So you assume that he has done as you suggested and gone and found himself someone better.

Eleanor leans her arm on your shoulder before resting her head on it, watching the disappearing car.  

“Shall we go to the hotel then?” Eleanor says.  

You lean down so that your head can rest on hers. “Yeah,” you reply.  

The uber drops you off at the hotel and as you walk into the main room you can see a few other wedding guests chatting in the hall. What with the proximity to the reception and the fact it was recommended by the bride and groom, you aren’t surprise that the place is probably fully booked with wedding guests.  

And the hotel was cute. It was a cosy, higgledy-piggledy, countryside hotel that looked like it had almost grown from the ground with all the ivy covering the outside walls. All of this added up to mean it was on the expensive side of hotels, however with the wedding being in the middle of nowhere you didn’t have much choice, and Eleanor somehow convinced you that it was worth the cost.  

Walking down the hall towards the stairs that would take you to your rooms, you give a small smile at some of the people you recognised from the wedding, but almost stop in your tracks when you see him. It had probably been hours since you last saw Jin and you had almost forgotten about him with all the stuff that had happened between you dancing with him and where you stood now. But as you see him sat at the bar that is off from the hall, you wonder how he could have left your mind at all. Sat alone, staring into a glass of what looked like whiskey, you wonder if this was what his first view of you looked like.  

Noticing where you were looking, if the fact that you had come to a complete stop hadn’t been clue enough, Eleanor smiles at you. “You should go speak to him.”  

You have to tear your eyes off him to be able to look at Eleanor and can see sincerity on her face.

“I’m a big girl, I’m sure I can find our room on my own,” she teases when she sees your doubt.  

“I should apologise for basically running away from him earlier,” you give out the excuse, though one is not needed.  

She gives a satisfied nod, those words being all she needed to slowly turn and start walking in the direction you were previously headed. “If you don’t come back to our room tonight, I won’t worry. See you at breakfast,” she says with a wave over her shoulder.  

Heat rises to your face and you turn to make sure no one heard, or more importantly that Jin didn’t hear. But he sits continuing to stare at his glass, too far away to hear the comment.  

Before you can overthink it, you start walking towards him. Heat remains in your face as you do. He doesn’t notice your approach so you can fully take him in. His long legs are crossed as he sits on the bar stool and yet they still manage to easily touch the floor. He sits slightly hunched in the chair and his shoulders sag with an unseen weight. His hair is slightly more ruffled than earlier, the previous style not holding as he has obviously been running his hand through it. You take a deep breath when you reach the stool next to where he sits, he is still unaware of your presence.  

“Do wine legs still apply when the liquid isn’t wine?” You reference his opening comment to you.  

His head shoots up, eyes instantly meeting yours and you can see the clear surprise at seeing you here.  

“I saw you sitting here, I hope you don’t mind me interrupting,” you say as a lame explanation.  

“I usually enjoy staring at my drinks alone without interruption. But I’ll make an exception for you,” he jokes before giving you a wide smile.  

“Ah, an honour,” you take the seat next to his and the barman comes over and takes your drinks order.  

A silence falls over you and Jin as you wait for your drink, Jin going back to staring into his cup. As you stare at him, possible questions to break the silence run through your head, all as meaningless and irrelevant as the next, none of them what you really want to ask him. So as a drink is placed down in front of you, and as you turn to look at it you build the courage to ask.  

“What you doing here all alone?” You hope your voice comes out as light and trivial as you mean it to, and out of the corner of your eye you see Jin has turned to look at you.  

“I thought I made that clear,” his voice is an attempt to tease, but you can hear the sadness in it, or was it annoyance? “I enjoy staring at drinks.”  

“Ah,” you raise your eyebrows as if in understanding. “The classic post-wedding-stare-at-an-alcoholic-drink-alone. I know it well.”

“Well, you did seemed to know the wedding-reception-stare-at-a-wine-glass-as-you-swirl-it earlier in the night,” he shoots back.  

“I guess we may have something in common there then,” you raise your glass lowly towards him, before taking a mouthful.  

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, grabbing your full attention. “I’ll tell you why I was staring into my glass, all alone. If you tell me why you were doing the same earlier.”

Not what you had expected him to say. And you weigh it in your mind. Was it worth telling him the truth to find out why he was sat alone? After a moments thought you realise it was.  

“My ex was sitting on our table,” you can’t look him in the eye as you say it, not wanting to see whatever emotion comes onto his face.  

He hums lowly before saying, “tough at a wedding.”  

“Yeah, I mean it happened 4 months ago, but it was the first time I’ve seen him since he left,” you admit.  

Jin doesn’t respond verbally to that, instead a hand is placed on your shoulder. Looking up, you finally see the emotion on his face. Where you had expected to see sorry or pity was instead some form of sympathy. While most people looked at you as if you are broken, as if you need to be fixed, Jin was looking at you with understanding, and in your eyes there was a big difference. You hadn’t liked telling people that you and Harry had broken up and as much as it was to do with admitting that you were no longer together, it was also due to peoples reactions. But here Jin sat, hand on your shoulder, but not in a patronising way, in a way that said he was there.  

“Anyway, it was nothing in the end,” you almost visibly brush off the words and, in the process, Jin’s hand drops and you instantly miss the feeling. “I had a good night,” you give him a small smile.  

“Yeah, it was good. Although, they definitely needed to put more money behind the bar,” he chuckles.  

“More money on booze, less on flowers,” you reference his comment from earlier in the night and Jins smile widens. “Come on then. Don’t think you’re going to get away with it,” you say and when Jin doesn’t immediately answer you carry on. “Why are you sat here all alone?”  

“I guess I was just hoping to attract over some lovely lady,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you and you laugh, but you can hear the return of the earlier sadness.  

“Seriously? Come on, I spilled my secret.”  

“Secret? I wasn’t aware it was that deep?”  

“It’s not,” you say. “But maybe I wouldn’t have divulged the information if I knew you were going to back out. You were the one that made the offer after all.”

“Alright, fairs fair,” he waved his hand before taking a massive gulp of his drink, practically finishing it off. A massive sigh leaves his lips before he carried on. “I was thinking of you.”

You freeze from shock. Unable to look away from Jin as he doesn’t meet your eyes, you can see red creeping up his neck, his eyes close lightly and it looks like he holds his breath for a second.  

“What?” You croak out.  

He lifts his head so he is looking straight forward, before twisting so he can look at you. His features are soft as he takes in your shocked face, his eyes darting around your face almost trying to read your thoughts.  

“I was thinking of you,” he repeats, though this time you can see his face, the almost embarrassment in his eyes. “I don’t know, I guess I just had a nice time talking and dancing with you and then you ran away and I wasn’t really sure what I had done wrong. But I guess now I can see why.”  

“I had a nice time dancing too,” you say and are surprised when your voice doesn’t crack with the shock still in your body.  

“You did?” Jin says with some doubt in his voice.

“Sorry I ditched you. I guess it all got a bit much and rather than act like a normal grown adult I ran,” you say.  

“You don’t have to apologise,” he says.  

“But I do,” you say. “If you think I was running away because of you, then I need to apologise.”

Jin give a small nod of recognition, but his face looks like he still feels the need to deny your apology. He bites back his words by taking a drink.  

“You know, we’ve met before,” the second statement he has said in the space of ten minutes that has shocked you. “You probably don’t remember, you were pretty drunk,” he says when he sees your expression.

“I did wonder why I’d never met you before, if you are supposedly Bens good friend,” you admit.  

Jin gives a small chuckle. “Well, we have met. At Ben birthday last year. Though, I turned up a bit late and by the time I got there it seemed like you had already had a lot to drink.”

Heat floods your face at the memory. You had had a lot to drink that night, partly to drown your sorrows after a big row with Harry. You honestly had no memory of Jin that night, you had hardly any memory of that night.

“Not my finest hour,” you say. “I hope I didn’t embarrass myself.”  

“I wasn’t sure whether to be happy when I found out I was sat by you because you were the life of the party, or worried you might get as drunk as that night and throw up all over me,” he teases and you give his arm a light punch.

“That was a one off,” you whine.  

“You were fine,” he laughs, and his words reassure you.

You give a small nod as a silence comes over you. Both of your stare at your drinks, a tension rises in the air and before it gets unbearable you break it.  

“I want to say sorry,” Jins head snaps to you at the words.

“You already apologised,” he says.  

“But I want to say it again,” you give a small smile. “I did really enjoy dancing with you. I don’t want you to think that I didn’t enjoy your company tonight.”

“My moves must not have impressed you as much as I had hoped. You did kind of bolt out of there.”

You give a small sigh, embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

“And I meant it when I said that none of the bridesmaids caught my eye,” he carries on.  

“I guess I just didn’t want you to be trapped with me all night,” you say.

His face scrunches in confusion. “And what would have been so bad about that?”

“I’m a bit of a mess, if that wasn’t clear. I didn’t want to drag you into all of it.”

“You don’t look like a mess to me,” he says as his eyes scan your body, and you open your mouth to clarify. “You look and sound perfectly put together to me.”

“You’d be surprised,” you give a humourless chuckle, but for once Jin remains serious.  

“I’m a big boy, you know. I can make my own decisions.”

Your eyes search his, hoping to find some sort of answer in them. The tension remains in the air, but it has shifted now.  

“Want to ditch the drinks?” His voice comes out thick and husky, matching the atmosphere.  

All you have to do is nod before he is on his feet and taking you hand in his. You are half dragged to the hall where you left Eleanor and Jin stops suddenly when you enter. Spinning around he pushes you so your back is pressed against the wall behind you and then his lips are on you. It all happens so quickly that you are caught off guard. It takes a second for your mind to kick into action and your lips to start moving, but when they do it feels like nothing you have ever felt before and you never want the feeling to stop.  

His lips are as soft as you imaged. Their fullness only adding to the feeling, when you bite down lightly on them you realise how firm they are. A small groan leaves Jins lips and he presses his body ever closer to you. You roll your hips lightly against his and another groan leaves his lips, this time it seems more pained and he pulls away.  

Panting gently, you look at each other. His lips have gone slightly redder from your light bites and it makes you want to reattach your lips again, but as you push yourself up, he pulls away. Before your heart can sink, he says, “my room or yours?”

Your eyes widen at his forwardness, but almost automatically you hear yourself saying, “yours.”

And just like that he grabs your hand, pulling you up the stairs, through the twists and turns of the hallways. Before you find yourself outside a door. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out a key and expertly opens the door, if it had been you in this moment it may have taken a few more attempts as your hands shake in anticipation.  

His door opens and you hardly make it inside before your lips are attached again. Pushing the door shut behind him, Jins hands grasp for the zip of your dress, pulling it down so that your dress slips from your shoulders and is left in a puddle on the floor. Continuing your journey backwards in search of the bed, Jins hands now grasp for the clasp of your bra, managing to unclasp it as your legs hit the edge of the bed.  

Half lowered, half falling onto the bed, Jin stays standing between your legs, looking down at your near naked body. The scene is almost serene as you look up at him. Where there was a hungry and desire before, there is now calmness.

“You have far too many clothes on,” you break the silence.

Slowly Jins fingers work at the buttons of his shirt. Almost painstakingly undoing the buttons, working from the top down all you can do is lay watching. His eyes never break contact from yours, but as he undoes the final button and slips the material off his shoulders your eyes flicker to the bare skin.  

He doesn’t give you long to look before he is laying down on top of you. Lips touching every inch of skin they can get to as he makes his way up your body. Small noises of pleasure leave your lips as your body arches into his touch.  

“So beautiful,” he whispers into your neck.

Your hands go to his hair, pulling him slightly so that you can reattach your lips. Your hands then glid down his back, pushing his body closer so you can grind up into him. This time noises of pleasure escape his mouth.

When your hands finally meet his trousers, you pull away enough so you work at getting the item off. Jins lips never leave you as your frustration grows, first you can’t undo his belt, then his zipper gets stuck, but Jin seems oblivious simply working his way across your neck. You almost cheer when you manage to get his trousers off, and while Jin sits up so he get them fully off you ask, “condom?”  

He gives no verbal answer, instead he stands and makes his way to his bag. Turning around with a foil packet in hand. Using his teeth to tare it open, he pulls his boxers down and rolls the condom on. You groan at the sight and wiggle your pants off as he walks back towards you.

“So beautiful,” he repeats as he stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you.

Lowering himself down, you feel like there’s a stiffness to the air, almost how it feels before lightning strikes. The anticipation builds up inside you as you feel Jin stoking himself in you folds.  

“Please,” you groan out when it all gets too much.  

You barely get the word out before he is pushing himself inside you. If the air felt like before a storm previously, now it feels like the storm is fully raging. Jin hardly gives you any time to adjust before he is rolling in and out of you. You barely know what you do with yourself, the pleasure overwhelming. Hands go from sheets, to his shoulders before finally resting on his back, pulling him as close to you as he can get. He pulls your legs so that they wrap around his middle, before his hands goes back to resting either side of your head.

His head goes to your neck, whispering unheard incantations there. His pace goes from soft and hard to fast and solid. Lifting his head, he looks into your eyes and you feel like you’ve never been so close to anyone before.

“Jesus Y/N,” he moans out.

Noises escape your mouth, but none of them class as words, hardly any sound human. Jins hand travels between your bodies and your pleasure is all consuming. Pushed over the edge, your head lulls back into the bed and you vision becomes blurry. Jin is quick to follow, rocking into you a few more times before he collapses onto you.  

Heavy breathing fills the room, and it takes a minute or two before Jin finally pulls out of you and rolls to your side. He doesn’t go far though, after disposing of the condom he pulls you into his side. He places a light kiss to the side of your head that rests on his chest.  

You can't help but run your fingers over his solid stomach as you lay there. Drawing random patterns on his smooth tan skin, you revel in how toned he is.

“Stay?” he asks.  

You snuggle closer into him as an answer.

His lips come to your temple. “I told you, weddings are the perfect place to pick people up,” his mumbles against your skin.  

Your hand smacks his chest lightly and he gives a fake groan of hurt.  

“Don’t make me regret staying,” you say, but make no attempt to move, if anything you move in closer.  

Wrapped up in the thick duvet you wake up slowly. Eyes thick with sleep, it feels like you’ve been in a deep sleep and something has slowly pulled you out of it. That something you realise is the man currently in the same room as you. Though he isn’t lay next to you, like he had been all night, instead you can his gentle footsteps around the room. As they approach your side of the bed and stop, you finally open your eyes and roll so that you can squint in his direction.

“Oh, hi,” his voice is soft and he is clearly surprised that you are awake. “Sorry if I woke you.”  

Your eyes have just about adjusted to the light of the room, so you are able to open them past a squint as you give him a warm smile. “You didn’t wake me,” even though he did, it was the kind of wake up you could get use to so you weren’t about to complain.  

“Well, I bought coffee,” he holds up the mug in his hand as evidence.  

A small hum of appreciation leaves your lips as you sit up, pulling the duvet with you. Your hands reach out to take the mug off Jin and as you take a sip the warmth fills your body. Jin walks back around the bed so that he can crawl back under the covers and you notice that he wears long plaid pyjamas. He looks warm and comfy and you kind of want to cuddle up to him and never leave.

“You went downstairs?” The questions seems obvious, but your brain works slower in the morning so you can’t think of anything more literate to say.  

“No, I actually went upstairs. Crazy that this place serves its coffee on the roof,” Jin teases.  

“You should alert health and safety,” you roll your eyes at him. “Do they serve breakfast up there too?”

“Ah, so that’s why you stayed,” you raise your eyebrows at him in question. “You’re just using me for collecting your coffee and breakfast,” he clarifies.  

“I didn’t request this,” you defend.

“Well in that case,” he reaches out to take the mug out of your hands but you pull it out of his reach.  

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it,” you give an exaggerated, over the top smile. “But some form of pastry would also not go unappreciated,” you continue to give your best pleading smile, eye lashes batting lightly.  

“Pastries do sound good,” Jin nods, though he makes no attempt to move from his position, which is now closer to you after he tried to grab your mug. “And what would I get if I go and get some?”  

“A pastry?” You mock.  

He hums as if seriously considering it. “I don’t think it’s worth it.”

“A kiss,” you say in a sickly-sweet voice. “On the cheek.”  

“A bit better,” he gives you a cheeky grin. “But I think I might still have to pass.”

“Why don’t you name it,” you give him the power. “I may not agree though,” you warn.

Jin places his hands on his chin, pretending to stroke a beard that isn’t there as he thinks. “How about a date?” It’s the first thing that he has said that morning with some seriousness.  

Eyes flicking between his you try and read what he is thinking before giving your answer. “OK,” you agree. “But they better be damn good pastries.”  

The wide smile returns to Jin faces, a few creases appearing around his eyes due to the wide beam. He leans closer into you so he can give you a small peck on the lips before he retreats. He doesn’t make it far though, simply sitting in an upright position, swivelling to place his mug on the bedside table you expect him to stand up but he simply turns back to face you, now with a plate in his hands. A plate full of pastries.  

You gawk at him. “You tricked me,” is all that comes out of your mouth.  

The triumphant smile stays on Jins lips as he picks up a pastry, then offers you the plate.  

“I didn’t. I had to come all the way over here,” he points to the spot he is sat, mere centimetres away from his early position, if that. “It was very tough. Especially this early. I definitely deserve a date after all that effort.”  

“I thought you were going to go downstairs,” you continue.  

“And I did. Just earlier,” he takes a bite and chews, but his eyes remain on you.

You follow suit, unable to form any words you shove a pastry in your mouth to avoid having to think of anything.

“Unhappy with the deal?” He asks.

You weren’t. You wanted to go on a date, but you were slightly unhappy, or maybe just shocked, at the way that he had coaxed you into it.  

“No,” you pout at him when you swallow your mouthful of food.  

He laughs at the expression on your face before pushing himself closer to you. Pastries abandoned somewhere on the bed, his arms come to wrap around you, face coming to yours.  

“I’ll take you somewhere really great, I promise,” he says, mouth mere millimetres from yours you can almost feel it move.  

“You better,” you say before closing the gap and placing your lips on his.  

[justkending]

The Number One Rule. Chapter 15.

Summary: Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left, but don’t worry the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers (Steve’s little sister)

Word Count: 3100+

A/N: Ladies and gentleman. This is in one of my top 3 chapters I’ve written in this series. The next one being my number 1;) I hope you enjoy and I would love any and all feedback you are willing to share!! xoxoxo

Chapter Fifteen:

Eventually when Bucky had snapped out of his thoughts, Y/N had long fallen asleep on him. He smiled down at her with a sad smile. One filled with remorse for everything she had gone through, but pride in how she handled it and didn’t let it destroy her. At least not to the extent that a lot of people get into.

She had years to do that, whereas Bucky was fresh on the subject. It would take him time to move on from that for her. He couldn’t help but feel hate for himself knowing exactly what party she was talking about. 

It was one of the few he and Steve didn’t attend. They had planned on it, but Dot wanted a quiet night in, and Steve just didn’t feel like it or something. It had been a while since that party, so he didn’t remember intricate details. 7 years to be exact. And the only reason he could guess which one it was, was because of how she acted after it. A whole month of depression and guilt she sat with and it showed. For the last 7 years Y/N had carried that with her. The only person she trusted to tell to this day was Beck. Now he was the other. 

He gathered her up in his arms, and she drowsily threw her own over his shoulders and hung on in a sleepy daze as he brought her up the stairs. He laid her in her bed, turned on her fan, and tucked her in. 

But as he stood to go back downstairs, her hand clasped around his. 

“Where y’ going?” she asked. The wine was playing a big part in the sleepiness and he could tell by her weak squeeze to his hand. 

“I’m just going to clean up downstairs. I’ll be back up in a second, sweetheart,” she nodded before giving him another squeeze to his hand and pulling the bed covers up to her cheeks. He smiled at her cute self and bent down kissing her forehead. He moved the strands of hair they fell over her eyes and studied her for a second. 

Eventually, he pulled away and went to do what he said. Popcorn kernels trashed and bowls cleaned. Leftover wine in the fridge and beer bottles recycled. He folded the blankets on the couch and set the pillows back in their original arrangement. Lastly, he went and checked to make sure all the doors were locked for the night. He had spent the night there enough to do a lock up without issues. 

Coming back upstairs, he changed into his own pajamas and snuck into the other side of the bed. Careful not to wake her, he gently and ever so softly, pulled her back to him. In her sleep, she turned to where they were face to face. Curling into his chest in comfort, trying to get as close as she could. 

He couldn’t hold in the chuckle that rumbled through his chest as she nuzzled under his chin. He ran his hand up and down her back and noticed her body relaxing with each stroke. He was glad he had that effect on her. It was the least he could offer after not being there for her in those hard times.

Now when he held her, he wasn’t just protecting her, but also trying to shield her from any more pain. He had been doing that his whole life for the family that the Roger’s had become to him. But now was different. This was a different kind of defense. This wasn’t just family protection. This was protection for someone you love. 

________________

The next morning, Y/N was the first to wake. She found herself practically embedded in Bucky’s arms. He had wrapped his giant self around her waist pulling her in close to his body. 

They had cuddled before, and even had a few sleepovers when Steve wasn’t in town, or if Becca wasn’t going to be home for the night and lent them her space. But it was only enough to count on one hand. That, plus, it never escalated to anything other than cuddling and maybe a makeout session here and there. 

Bucky had been gentle and patient in that area. Even if they hadn’t had that talk yet at that point, he didn’t push. Something she wasn’t used to in most of the guys she had dated. Pietro probably being the only other one that was understanding of it. 

Even if they had been dating a little over a month, she was glad they were taking it slow. Even if they had known each other their whole lifes. 

She somehow was able to turn in his arms and see a soft smile on his lips. He wasn’t awake, so he must have been dreaming of something nice. She took a second just breathing him in and trying to wrap her head around how all this came to be. 

Sure she had crushes on him growing up. I mean who doesn’t form a crush for your older brother's hot best friend. Though if she was being honest, she had always thought deep down that it was never a card that would be played in this game of life. 

Little did they know, it would just take time and growth. Then the fates would do with them what they will. Most card games were just a game of chance. You never know what’s going to come around the corner...

Eventually, she pulled herself away ever so gently and quietly to escape downstairs and make breakfast. She was still in her sleep shorts, but at some point took off her sweatshirt in the night from almost overheating. That plus the surprisingly excessive amount of body heat Bucky gave off made it hard to sleep with it on. 

She found a new one laying over her chair in the corner and threw it on before grabbing a hair tie and brushing her bed head up into a bun. 

Tiptoeing to the door, she slowly closed it leaving it open just a crack. 

Just as she took a step on the stairs, she heard the front door unlock and open. Freezing in her spot she waited a second. The only person who had a key besides their mom and her was…

“Hey, sis,” Steve said coming around the corner seeing her at the top of the stairs. 

“S-Steve,” she said in almost a whisper. Panic. Fear. Dread hit her at full force.“What, um, what are you doing here?”

“It’s Saturday and mom’s out of town, and I knew you were home alone. I thought I’d come over and we can go get breakfast or something,” he said with a sweet innocent smile. 

Running down the stairs a little quicker, she met him at the bottom. 

“Um, why didn’t you call? I would have gotten ready. I just woke up,” her voice was filled with anxiety and Steve noticed. 

“I thought I’d surprise you,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You ok? You seem off?”

“Um, no. I’m fine. I just got a text from work that one of the projects they had me on needs to be done sooner than I expected.” How she came up with that lie on the spot like that? She had no idea, but she ran with it. “Yeah, not the best thing to wake up too. Making me a little nervous.”

“Oh, well do you want to go get breakfast and we can talk about it? I’ve barely heard about anything with your new job. We need to catch up, Mini,” he said, poking her stomach and making her let out a loud laugh, having always been super ticklish. 

Just seconds after that, having heard voices and a loud almost shout, Bucky swug open the door and peered down the stairway where they were both at the bottom. 

Two seconds. 

Two seconds was all it took for Steve to put two and two together in his head. Bucky acting weird lately. Sneaking off randomly and never telling Steve anything, which wasn’t like him in their friendship. Hell, he had even noticed Bucky’s lingering looks, but always put in the back of his mind thinking nothing of it. 

But now. Oh, he was thinking about something now. 

Bucky was frozen at the top of the stairs, eyes locked with Steve. To make matters worse, he only had pajama pants on and no shirt.

Even from the distance of the stairwell, Bucky could see the storm brewing in the blue eyes of his best friend. 

“Steve,” Y/N started placing a hand on his arm. 

The blonde immediately ripped away from her as he turned to fully face Bucky. The alpha male, big brother, pissed off best friend was in a stance ready to fight. 

“Why the FUCK did you just come out of my sister’s room half fucking naked?” Steve growled.

“Steve, you don’t know the full story,” Y/N said softly, but she could sense the tension and for once in her life, she was slightly scared to enter the fight. 

“The fuck I don’t know the full story,” Steve said finally whipping his head back to Y/N. His blue eyes were carrying a category 5 hurricane in those ocean blues. But they didn’t stay on her long as he turned back to Bucky. 

“Listen,” Bucky said, coming down slowly. 

“I don’t know if I want to,” he responded through his teeth. “Take one more step down here, and you’re going to need some serious dental work and a nose job.”

Bucky froze about 4-5 steps away from the siblings. Finally, he looked at Y/N, worry in his eyes, but they were also apologetic. 

Y/N immediately moved around Steve and stood between the two. Closer to Steve to try and hold him back if she needed to. 

“Now wait a damn minute,” she spoke up looking straight at her older brother even if he was sending a death glare past her shoulder. “You need to calm down before we talk-”

“No. You need to go to your room. Bucky and I need to talk,” he said in an authoritative voice. 

“Excuse me?” she retorted back. Her gentleness in the situation was fading and being replaced with aggravation. “Go to my room? Am I a 13 year old girl?” she said stepping in his eyeline so he was looking at her. 

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Y/N!” He shouted. “Go to your room!”

“No,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. 

The two had this kind staring contest all the time growing up. Anytime there was a fight, they almost never relented with their stubborn asses. Their mom or dad had to send them to their rooms themselves and kept them there. The time ranging from 20 minutes to 5 hours before they calmed down. 

They were two of the most headstrong ornery people to live in this world. And it didn’t help that they were now pitted against each other. This kind of fight looked as if it could be ranging more into weeks or months. 

Knowing and experiencing situations like this with them before, Bucky spoke up again. 

“Y/N, you should listen to him. We need to talk,” he said sedately. 

“I leave and he’s going to beat your ass,” Y/N said, still staring at her brother. 

“I think he’s going to beat my ass either way,” Bucky mumbled. “Really Y/N. Just give us a second.”

“I’m a part of this equation too,” she said. Her tone easing just enough to be noticed. 

“Yes, you are. But right now, Steve and I need to talk first,” he said trying his best to defuse the fire against the heated situation happening in the entryway of their house. 

There were a few more seconds of silence as they glared at the other. 

“Fine, but I’m coming back down in 10 minutes,” she bartered. 

No one responded as she started to go up the stairs backwards. The staredown did not cease until she was even with Bucky on the steps. 

“If he does anything stupid, I’m going to beat his ass,” she said looking at Bucky. 

“I’m sure you will,” he said with a small smile that was forced for reassurance. 

She placed a hand on his shoulder. A silent good luck as they studied the other in a quick second. 

Turning back to look at Steve, she saw he was still in a rigid stance. The tension in his shoulders doing nothing but grow with every passing second. She would’ve sent him one more warning glare if he was looking, but his eyes were trained on Bucky with a look that could kill. 

Eventually she went into her room and shut her door, leaving it open just a crack. They deserved their privacy no matter how bad she wanted to step in. Deep down she knew, as best friends, they needed to talk on their own. 

Bucky looked back down and saw a bull looking at him like he was a red cape.

“Outside. Now,” Steve commanded before stomping off to the back and letting the screen door slam harshly. 

Letting out a long sigh and running a hand down his face, he finally went down the stairs. He grabbed a shirt from the bag he had left down there and headed to the backyard. Steve already in the grass pacing. 

“Steve,” Bucky said softly as he walked down the porch steps barefoot. 

Instantly, a fist collided with his face. He stumbled trying his best to not fall from the impact. When he looked up, grasping his jaw, he sent a glare to Steve. 

“I’m not saying I don’t deserve that, but-”

“Oh, you deserve a lot more than that, but I need you to explain what the HELL I just walked into and you can’t do that with no teeth,” Steve glowered. 

Looking at him while straightening his posture he wiggled his jaw some feeling just a tad bit of blood on his lip. Damn him for teaching Steve how to make a proper swing like that. 

“You gonna punch me again before I talk, or can I fucking explain myself now?” No response, only a stare was given. “Ok, so I’ve been hiding something from you.” Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“You think?”

“Listen, I’m almost as taken aback as you. One day, she’s like a little sister running around with my actual sister, and the next she's a mature grown adult who knows what she wants, exudes confidence, and is intelligent beyond measure.” He paused before adding. “Not that we didn’t know that.”

“I know what my sister is. What I want to know is why you’re sleeping with her?” Steve said, taking a step closer. 

Bucky just straightened up more as if expecting another hit. But then he processed Steve’s sentence. 

“Sleeping with her?” he questioned almost in shock. Steve not breaking his gaze. “I’m not fucking sleeping with her, asshole! I’m dating her.”

The smallest amount of tension released from Steve’s body and his face wasn’t frowning as much.

“You’re dating?” 

“Yes. Dating.”

“So you guys haven’t-”

“No. I’m a little upset that you think that low of me,” Bucky scoffed. “You think I would really just start booty calling my best friend's sister? If I wanted a friend with benefits, I can easily find a girl at a bar,” he said, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair. “You’re sister isn’t a girl from a bar, Steve.”

Steve was silent processing it. He still wasn’t happy, but at least it wasn’t as bad as had thought. 

“Listen, Y/N’s been in my life just as long as she has been in yours. We’ve grown up together, created childhood memories together, picked on each other, and protected each other. She would be the last person on this earth I would want to degrade to a one night stand. She deserves so much more than that.”

“Exactly,” Steve said. 

Bucky paused taking note of Steve’s tone. “Exactly? Why do you say it like that?”  

“I mean she deserves a lot,” he said, confirming Buck’s thought. 

“I see. So I don’t make the cut?” Bucky said, now getting frustrated. The silence was enough of an answer to his question. “Wow. 26 years of being best friends and you think that little of me?”

“She’s my sister,” Steve answered. A slight tone of apology behind his words, but he kept the stoic face. 

“Yes, Steve she is! And 2+2= 4! We know this!” he said waving his arms and scoffing as he turned in his spot before turning back. Hands on his hips before one came up and ran a hand through his slight beard. 

“You know what? Screw this. I’m not going to sit here and be that guy that says, ‘Yeah, you’re right. She doesn’t deserve me. I’m not good enough for her.’ You know why, Steve? Because I know that. And it’s because I know that, that I’m going to strive with every muscle in my body and every might of my being to make sure I can be that for her one day. To make sure I can give her everything and more that she deserves. To make sure she never has to see a sad day again. To make sure she only experiences joy if I have any say. To make absolutely sure that no one ever hurts her. Why? Because I love her!”

Out of breath, Bucky chest heaving up and down showed how hard his lungs were working to get air back in them. 

Steve’s posture had almost gone back to normal. The anger no longer there. Whatever emotion he was feeling, Bucky couldn’t tell. 

“How long?” Steve asked. 

“What?” Bucky asked, confused. 

“How long have you loved her?” he repeated, looking down at the ground. 

Bucky paused. He couldn’t actually answer that. There was no specific time frame. Truth was he had loved her for a while. 

“Honestly, longer than I know... It’s just taken me this long to figure out that’s what this feeling was.”

Steve nodded his head as he put his hands in his pockets and continued to stare at the dirt by his feet. 

“Ok.”

Taken aback, Bucky's eyes widened. 

“Ok?” 

“Yeah. Ok,” Steve repeated before he started walking to the back fence that led to the driveway. 

“Wait. You’re just going to leave it at 'Ok,’ and walk away?” Bucky rushed over to stop him. 

Steve slowly turned from staring at the ground and then back at him. 

“You know, I thought that we were close enough that you could come to me with this kind of thing. That you wouldn’t feel like you had to hide it from me. Y/N and you both,” he said with pursed lips. “Guess I was wrong.” 

With that he turned back and walked to his car. Bucky watched as he started the engine, pulled out, and disappeared. 

What the hell kind of mess just happened?

(Tags for this series will be closing soon as it is getting pretty full, please send an ask if you want to be added:)

I’ll post on whatever chapter I decided to close it down here.

The Number One Rule (TNOR) Taglist:

@shadowolf993 @hello-i-am-daydreaming @jessyballet  @emmabarnes @kmuir1  @beautifulrare4leafclover @thefallenbibliophilequote @l0ve-0f-my-life  @shawnie--jo​ @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @asoftie4bucky​ @katiaw2​ @sheeple​ @sznri​ @bxtchboy69​ @taliarosej00​ @bakugouswh0r3​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @babemendesxz​ @jenniereiji​ @taliarosej00​ @loveyou5everr​ @natdrunk​ @im-a-light-child​

My Lovelies forever:

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@morganclaire4​ @chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ 

@bellamy-barnes

​

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[blu-joons]

Announcing Your Relationship ~ Min Yoongi

You sat and waited patiently as you always did backstage hearing the raucous of the boys walk down the corridor as their interview came to an end. Their smiles were wide which quickly brought you some relief, feeling the sofa dip beside you.

Yoongi’s wide smile was the first thing you saw, feeling his arms drape around your shoulders. “You seem happy,” you giggled, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder, lacing your hand in with his.

“I don’t have to pretend anymore; do you know how good it feels?” He whispered in response, tapping against the back of your hand.

“It feels weird though, it feels like we’re still doing something wrong, even though we’re not.”

It had taken the two of you a long time to get to the moment you found yourselves in, to be able to be with each other in public and not have to lie. Three years of anyone’s life would often feel lost in that time, but finally being able to be open about your relationship with Yoongi made all of it seem worth it.

The boys had all sat around on the other chairs around you, grabbing themselves drinks, smiling across at you both, knowing better than anyone else the struggles the two of you had faced.

“So, how did the interview go?” You finally asked, looking around at them all, sitting up and away from Yoongi so you could get a better view of his expression.

“Good,” he hummed, “they asked about you, but we handled it well, so there’s no need to worry.”

Whilst it was easy for him to sit and tell you not to worry, he knew that would never stop you from doing so. Two weeks later you found yourself curled up on the sofa of your apartment waiting to watch the interview broadcast, with the boys already in America to continue with their promotions.

You were lost on your phone for much of the programme until you heard the boys be introduced, sitting through them answering the usual questions about the album, the fans, their interests, before your name was finally mentioned.

Your body stiffened, turning the volume up on the television as you heard the interviewer ask, “what’s it like having a girlfriend when you’re such a public figure.”

Naturally all the boys turned to Yoongi who stared down at his hands that rested in his lap, “it’s hard,” he mumbled, slowly turning his eyes up to look at all the fans. “But it’s definitely worth it, it’s important for me to make the band and my relationship work.”

“And they’re super cute too!”

“We love having Y/N around.”

You chuckled as Jungkook and Jimin chimed in defending you both, resting their hands against Yoongi’s shoulders to encourage him.

“What took you so long to introduce your fans to Y/N though? There has to be something going on,” the interviewer continued to push.

You could sense how uncomfortable it was all beginning to make Yoongi feel as he sunk down in his chair. When you’d spent so long denying everything and keeping quiet, suddenly having to be so open was a hard change to come by.

“I wanted to protect her, I wasn’t going to risk moving too quickly and things falling apart. Three years might be a long time for some, but I wasn’t prepared to risk it, Y/N means too much to me, but now feels like the time is right.”

Luckily for you both the interview quickly diverted onto a new subject as Namjoon tried to pick back up on a few things they were working on for the album. The boys had always been the biggest fans of your relationship, and they weren’t about to sit back and watch someone try and attack your relationship.

Once the broadcast was over, your phone was quick to vibrate, barely seeing who it was, you quick to answer.

“Did you watch?” His voice excitedly asked, “it’s so funny watching myself talk about you so publicly.”

“Of course, I watched,” you hummed, “have you heard anything about the reaction? What do your fans think about it all?”

As important as your relationship was, you knew that he also valued the fan’s opinion for it was them that had placed him into the fortunate position that he found himself and allowed him to find you.

“They seem to be happy, I don’t want to check it too much, as much as their opinions matter, they also don’t. Nothing they say is going to change my mind, especially when they know I’ve spent three years already happy with you.”

You stretched yourself out across the sofa, letting go of a heavy sigh, “it weirdly feels like such a relief just to have it in the open, I thought I’d be terrified, but I’m not.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, of course.”

In the background of the call you could hear the frequent yells of the boys, whilst you couldn’t quite decipher what was said, mentions of yours and Yoongi’s names appeared several times. What followed was the sound of your phone pinging several times, whilst staying on your call, you were quick to look at the notification.

Your screen soon became flooded with photos of the two of you that the boys had seemingly taken over the years, accompanied with the caption, ‘we’ve waited three years to share all of these, look how happy they are.’

“Have you seen?” Yoongi’s voice questioned as he heard you gasp.

Your head nodded, taking a few moments before responding, “won’t you guys get in trouble for all of this?”

“Why?” He nonchalantly asked. “We’re not doing anything wrong; you’re forgetting that they’re aren’t any rules anymore, we don’t have to creep around anymore, we can be open and in love.”

“Say that last bit again,” you whispered, allowing your eyes to close.

“The bit about being open and in love?”

Hearing him say the words felt like a dream, you’d imagined how it would feel if one day the two of you could go public, but over time that possibility felt like it was slipping further and further away.

“It sounds pretty cool,” you chuckled, “and the boys are incredible as well, I didn’t even know they’d taken half of those photos.”

Their small album was made up of candids that they’d taken when neither of you thought they were looking, but one thing was clear in all of them, that they were desperate to get across to the fans, the two of you were incredibly happy with each other.

“Apparently they’ve been saving them up for quite some time so when the fans knew about the two of us, they could defend us with cute photos.”

“They really said that?”

“Of course,” he laughed, rolling his eyes as the boys continued to run around the studio, only wishing you could see the chaos that had ensued. “You forget that this relationship isn’t just the two of us, there are six other boys who would happily get involved in everything.”

Your smile grew, staring around the empty apartment, it was hard to admit you just missed Yoongi when the boys also played such a huge role in your life.

“Hopefully, I’ll be able to come and see you guys soon now that I actually can.”

“I’ll get something arranged, just leave it with me.”

---

Masterlist

[catxsnow]

CIRCUS FREAK D.G.

Request: okay so i was listening to rewrite the stars and got the idea where the reader is a socialite from a very wealthy family, and she fell for dick grayson but her family doesn't approve because he's not a real wayne/rich. so can i request that? thank you once again!!🥺❤️

Warning: swears, having really shitty parents

A/N: That gif just melts my heart every time I see it. 

Word Count: 2k

Dick Grayson was an unexpected surprise in your life.

Your parents were the kind of people that expected you to marry a literal prince. They wanted you to continue the family legacy of money, power, and popularity. Generations of marrying important figures to keep the family name from being tainted. Your family took pride in their place in the world.

When they moved to Gotham, there was only one family that was going to be good enough for your parents: The Wayne's. Bruce Wayne was the richest person in the city - maybe even the entirety of the country. When you parents wiggled their way into his life and to his famous gala's, you were to be dragged along as well.

Your parents pointed out dozens of rich men, those who owned big businesses or were part of world affairs. They wanted you to talk to them, date them, and eventually marry one of them. It wasn't those snobby men that you were intrigued by. It was the man across the room with a genuine smile.

At the time you weren't aware that this was Bruce's oldest adopted son. He didn't seem like the rest. Dick wasn't trying to prove his worth by being there, in fact it almost seemed like he didn't want to be there at all. Behind his smile, you could see that he had places he'd rather be - but his kindness to others never faltered.

Out of all the people in that room, he was the only one that you wanted to talk to.

Dick felt your eyes on him. He looked up from the person he was having a conversation with and gazed at you from across the room. A smile lit up his face at the sight of how stunning you looked. He no longer cared about the man he was chatting with - he wanted to go talk to you instead.

That was how you met the love of your life. The second that he asked you to dance, you knew that you never wanted to let him go. You danced your heart away that night, twirling and spinning until your legs were ready to give out on you. Being with Dick... it was like floating in the stars.

You met with him again and again after that night. Every meet up seemed to last shorter than the previous, you never seemed to get enough time with him. There weren't enough hours in the day for you to be with Dick as much as you wanted to. He had cut down on his over time at work, even patrol to be with you.

He was in love.

You weren't like the rest of the snobby rich, young adults that attended these gala's. Unlike so many of these families that just wanted to make money, you wanted to make the world a better place. Dick respected that about you. While you were both trying to change the world in different ways, it seemed to bring you closer together.

Bruce knew who you were. He was aware of your parents and their appearance in Gotham. Thinking like a business man, he assumed that you were only interested in Dick for the money in his name. Upon meeting you, he could clearly see that wasn't the case at all. You were completely head over heels for him.

The issue arose when Dick was meant to meet your parents for the first time. Every man that you had brought home to them wasn't good enough. They drove him away until you were left heartbroken. As the son of Bruce Wayne, you assumed that they would approve of him. Even so, Dick was brave enough to stick around through your parents wrath.

Dick was dressed in his best suit. You were looped around his arm in your best clothes as well. The two of you stood outside the doors of the fanciest restaurant in the city. Your parents were already inside and waiting upon the two of you. Dick leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips.

"Stop worrying so much."

"Aren't I supposed to be telling you that?" You chuckled. Dick rolled his eyes and led you through the doors. Truth be told, he wasn't nervous. Throughout all his years, he had impressed every set of parents that he met. Yours couldn't be that different. "Just... don't think of me differently after today, okay?"

"I would never, my love," Dick assured. You switched from having your arm around his to intertwining your hands. The server led you towards the table your parents were sitting in. They looked to be in a good mood. Hopefully they would keep it up when you arrived with Dick.

Dick Grayson should have been nervous. After knowing you this past half a year, he didn't think that anyone related to you could be cruel. You were the kindest person that he had ever met, always worried about everyone around you before yourself. He assumed that it was your parents that raised you like that.

He was wrong, very wrong. Your parents seemed to be angered the second that you two sat down at the table. Dick was on his best behavior. He made sure to give the biggest smile, shook their hands, and referred to them with the utmost respect. It didn't seem to matter, the second they laid eyes on him they weren't impressed.

When you told your mother that you were bringing a Wayne to dinner, they assumed you meant a real Wayne - not an adopted one. Bruce was far too old for you, Damian far too young. Tim was the one that they were expecting, even if he was considerably younger than you as well. Even if he wasn't a real Wayne, he was the one to run WE.

Dick Grayson was nothing but a circus freak.

A boy who was born from poor parents and grew up in the circus. He was the exact opposite of what your parents wanted of you. Even with being adopted by Bruce, it wasn't enough for them. You were tired of pleasing your parents. Dick was the love of your life, you knew it in less than a year of being with him.

"You're lucky Bruce Wayne adopted you. I suppose living in a circus you had no where to go but up," Your mother spoke. She sipped her wine, acting as if what she had said was a compliment. Dick's eyes widened in shock but he remained quiet.

"You're not a real Wayne, though, right? Like Bruce's inheritance isn't going to go to you, it'll go to his youngest, the blood son?" Your father pitched in. "(Y/N) are you sure you want this one? What about the other, the one running Bruce's company - at least he has something going for him."

"That's enough!" You raised your voice. Your parents were not-so-subtle about their dislike towards Dick. They shamed his upbringing, saying that he was lucky to be taken in by Bruce rather than continue his life in the circus. Though you knew their words hurt him, he stayed calm throughout the matter.

You on the other hand, couldn't hear anymore of it. "Who the fuck do you think you are to say those things? Huh? You're nothing but snobbish pricks who only want me to marry for money! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of seeing you on your high fucking horse thinking you're better than everyone!

"I'm ashamed to call you my parents. You don't care about Gotham or your own daughter! You only care about yourselves and money. Have fun being fucking miserable, I'm not putting up with your shit any longer. Never again."

The restaurant had gone silent. All eye were on your table, listening in to the scene that you were causing. Your parents sat there in shock. you had never showed any signs of aggression like that before. Not once in your life had you went against them so fiercely and so publicly. Unfortunately, they blamed this attitude on Dick.

Before they could say anything about your outburst, you grabbed Dick's hand and nearly dragged him out of the restaurant. You were beyond angry. So full of rage, humiliation, even guilt. You so desperately wanted this dinner to go well and it had gone anything but. Dick finally stopped you from racing back towards his car.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as he looked down to you. Without hesitating, he pulled you into a much needed hug. You sobbed into his chest, your heart aching for the words that your parents said to him. He didn't deserve that, any of it. Dick was too polite to stand up against strangers like that - especially when they were your parents.

"I'm sorry," You whispered. Dick kissed the top of your head before wiping away your tears. When you asked him not to judge you for your parents, he never thought you would mean to this extreme. Still, he kept with his promise. You weren't your parents, you were nothing like them.

"Don't be," Dick assured. He had gone through far worse things than some angry parents. He got broken, battered, and bruised every week - a few hurtful words shouldn't have fazed him. But seeing you so upset because you cared this deeply about him? That broke his heart far more than what your parents said about him.

"My parents are horrible people. They've always only cared about keeping the family name as an important figure. I've pretty much would be stuck in an arranged marriage if they got what they wanted," You squeezed your eyes shut, remembering the hurt looks on Dick's face as they spoke poorly about him.

Dick didn't know what to say. To be honest, he was still in shock over the events that had just happened between you and your parents. Firstly with how horrible they were, and secondly, how quick you were to stand up for him. You had only known him for six months and you were willing to throw away your relationship with you parents for him.

Realizing just how committed you were to this relationship sparked something in him. He knew that he loved you, and even if it was a relatively short time together with you, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Dick was completely and utterly in love with you.

"You're not a freak, Dick," you continued as he didn't speak. Without him saying what was on his mind you were left to believe that he was thinking the worst. He no longer wanted to be with, he didn't love you anymore. It broke you to think like that, you would do anything to change it. "You're not a Wayne, you're a Grayson. A Flying Grayson, that's the man that I love."

"I love you," Dick finally spoke his mind. Relief flooded you; that was what you wanted to hear. "You aren't your parents, I see that more than ever now. Just like how I'm not Bruce. We're meant to be our own people, to live and grow and discover who we really are. Right now, I know that I'm meant to grow with you."

"You make me a better person every day, Dick Grayson," You smiled up at him. Dick pulled you closer by your hips and lowered his lips to yours. He didn't care about the random people walking by you or the sound of car horns in the background, you were all that mattered.

It didn't matter if you parents didn't approve of him. He had your heart, and you hoped that he never let it go.