#nobody expects you to write an entire wedding from start to finish of course

[twinklecupcake]

Begging people to not mix up Japanese and Chinese wedding traditions/clothing.  I just saw an LMK fic mention a character wearing “a traditional wedding dress, a red shiromuku.”

Which first of all isn’t even red, it’s white, it’s right there in the name, and second of all holy hell no, that’s Japanese.

Not to mention the actual wedding was a Western Christian one.

[parkers-gal]

omg i love your styles!reader fics (and your writing in general, you’re so talented) !! can you do blurb where tom and styles!reader have been married for like a year or two and they tell their families that they’re expecting and then maybe flash forward to when the baby is born and harry cries meeting them?

combined requests: hi can u do a dad tom and reader. and they have a baby shower for the reader. I love all your story’s btw:)

wc: 2k

requests are open (love you // hope u like this)

—

“Are you excited?”

“I’m nervous.” You let out a measly laugh while Tom’s left hand moved from gripping your thigh to hovering above your lower abdomen.

You weren’t showing yet, of course. It had only been a few weeks since the two of you had found out. Two years into your marriage and the two of you had discussed to start trying for a family. You’d never told anyone that, so you expected the announcement to be quite a surprise for everyone.

Tom was a very private guy, especially growing up in the public eye. His family was off limits, and the minute you came into the picture, that trait only amplified. Now that you were married, he’d been a bit more private about his marriage life, especially around his family. It was a weird dynamic at first, because Tom is a very open man who loves his family very much.

But he also knows his family isn’t a private one when it comes to the media, and involving you would mean every aspect of your life would be outed. And he didn’t want that, so the two of you weren’t ridiculously close with either of your families.

It was a weird detail, really. One you didn’t really notice until a year after your marriage.

It was even weirder, however, that there happened to be an entire week where both your family and Tom’s family were available for a lunch date. Harry was usually writing an album or prepping for a tour, and you were glad he kept himself busy. Tom and his younger brother would usually be working on a project together, so having everyone home was exciting and nerve wracking.

“They’re all gonna know we’ve had sex.”

“I think they knew before,” He chuckled at your reaction, mouth ajar while you slapped his upper arm playfully.

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Sure, blame the guy who knocks you up.”

“Okay, mister.” You shuffle his curls, which are arranged messily for a Saturday.

Fifteen minutes later and the two of you are walking into the Holland household. You can already hear your brother’s minged shouts and hollers about whatever conversation he must be having with Harry, Tom’s brother. You’re quite certain you’ve never seen such a British interaction.

“The all-star couple is finally here!”

“Hey!” Harry drags out the end syllables while he brings you into a sloppy hug. “Baby sis.”

“Don’t ever call me that again,” You laugh at his tone, the words foriegn for him.

“Yeah, that was weird as fuck the minute I said it.”

You glanced over to Tom, who was hugging his brothers and his mother. You grinned as you made your way over to them, embracing them just as he had before linking your hand with Tom’s and sitting in a patio chair beside his.

“How is everything in your married-life?”

“Low-key, really.” You admitted, it was true. The first few months had been exhausting yet fulfilling, but now you felt yourself settling down for the long run. Tom could feel it too, especially with the unannounced baby Holland on the way.

“Yeah, mum,” He bit into a snickerdoodle. “Not much going on for us.”

“Didn’t you just wrap that upcoming film?”

“The London one, yeah.” He nods along and you get lost in conversation with Sam and Elysia. They’ve been together for quite awhile, and you suspect their own wedding might be within the near future.

You’re about an hour into the lunch when you make eye contact with Tom, communicating without words. He stands up, wiping his hands off on a napkin before pulling you up.

“We have… some new to share.”

Eyes glance up to the only two people standing at the table, and Harry (your brother) swallows a bite of bread before encouraging you. “Well, get on with it then.”

Your mom whips the back of his head, and you laugh. Gemma chuckles at them before glancing at you inquisitively. You’re very open with her, but from the look on your face, she knows this is something nobody else knows of.

“We are very happy to announce….” You start it, but urge Tom to finish what you cannot.

“That the newest member of the Holland-Styles clan will be coming by the end of this year.”

You watch as mouth’s drop open in the final realization at what this means. Gemma sits back in her chair, left hand above her chest, against her shirt with wide eyes and mouth ready to catch flies. You smile in excitement, and Nikki and your mom stand quickly for hugs, pushing their chairs back as they scrape against the concrete of the backyard patio.

Tom’s hand is linked to yours still, and when you momentarily let go, you feel almost abandoned and lost without him.

After a few rounds of accepting ‘congratulations!’you realize your brother has yet to move from his seat. When you glance at him after everyone’s settled back down, he’s looking in his lap. Gemma catches on, and so does Sam. Eventually, all eyes are on the Styles boy.

“Har?” You speak hesitantly in the tense situation. “You okay?”

When he picks his head up, he sniffles and you notice his red eyes. You jutt a lip out as you hear a few of the girls vocally “aw” at his state. He stands quickly, chair scraping just as everyone else’s had, and he makes his way over you.

You get lost in his embrace, hugging him tightly. He’s still crying slightly as he whispers a few words into your ears. He’s emotional upon realizing he’ll be an uncle in just a few months, emotional upon realizing you’ve grown up so much from the little girl that used to rub frosting on his nose and dimples.

You rub his back soothingly, and when you separate he gives you a weak smile. He maneuvers around you to hug your husband, who chuckles when he’s embraced roughly, tightly. Their hands are each on each other’s back, and a memory flashes in your mind, one of your wedding, when Harry cried so much you had to ask someone to buy more tissues.

You’re nostalgic about today’s encounter, and you don’t know what to expect when the baby really does come.

**

You’re seven months along, baby bump big as ever. Tom’s almost as protective as Tessa now that you’re so far along. As far as cliches go, you’ve just arrived to a basically surprise baby shower. You know it must’ve taken Tom weeks to plan something like this, and it must’ve been even harder to keep it a secret from you.

You kiss his forehead when you finally see why you’re at his mom’s house. Both yours and his moms are conversing in the corner after greeting the two of you. There’s a table of presents beside a snack area. You can see a few of your craving-snacks, and you hug Tom as best you can. He kisses your temple.

There’s not many people here, only your closest friend circle and your family members. You see Harry and Gemma in the corner, and make your way over to your siblings with a smile. You're swollen with the baby bump, so you’re not moving as fast, but you’re just as excited.

“Baby on the way,” You announce as you hug them. “Thanks for doing this, guys.” You blush as you gesture to everything around you. Harry shrugs with a cocky smile, and Gemma smiles lovingly. You see Sam and Elysia heading towards you, and Gemma makes her way to the snack table for some lemonade.

“Y/N!” Elysia drags out your name in excitement, hugging you carefully. “How is everything?”

“Ugh,” You groan jokingly, a hand rubbing up and down your bump. “Exhausting, really. She’s a handful.”

She smiles, and Sam’s hand stays on the small of her back as she leans into him. He excuses himself momentarily, and you lean in close to Elysia when he’s gone.

“Are you two engaged?”

She looks at you with a blush before shaking her head. “No… but I feel like he’s going to propose soon.”

You squeal and try your hardest not to cry. “Man, these hormones are crazy.” She laughs, nodding along. Unbeknownst to you, Sam had made his way over to the two older brothers of the Holland family. They’re sipping beer by the patio sliding door.

“Hey, guys.” The boys look up at the sound of Sam’s soft voice. He’s almost hushed, and they use context to realize he looks a bit serious.

“What’s up?” Harry’s hand pats his shoulder as if to comfort his anxious state.

Same turns his head to look at Elysia, who’s across the yard talking to you. “I think I’m going to propose soon.” Tom nearly chokes on his drink. “What? Man, that’s amazing!” He’s whispering out, breathing erratically from excitement.

Harry stares out, blinking in surprise. He’d seen in coming, but that would never amount to the realization that the Holland boys are growing up. “Do you have a ring or something?” They huddle close as Sam brings them closer in response to Harry’s question.

He pulls out a velvet box from an inner-jacket pocket. When he opens the case, they gasp in awe.

“Man,” Tom pats his back again, lovingly. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, man. I’m nervous.” He wipes his hands on his thighs as he hides the ring in his clothes again.

“Don’t worry.” Harry glances over at the two of you. “She loves you so much. You’re gonna get the happy ending.”

They continue talking until your mum, Anne, announces it’s time to open a few presents. You reunite with Tom for the first time since arriving, trying not to come off as too flustered, but you know you are. You know you’ll cry — and dramatically too, because your hormones are off the radar — if anyone gives you a really meaningful present.

You open a few, some just basic cleaning supplies for diaper-care, others range from cute clothes to bedding sheets. When you open Harry’s gift, it’s a CD case with a picture of the Styles family on the cover.

When you open the case, you see a message in print. He’d written you a few songs, for Tom and the baby too. You nearly burst into tears as you stand up as quickly as possible. Tom helps you stand while you make your way over to your older brother, hugging him as if your life depends on it.

“You’re gonna be a great uncle, Harry.”

***

When they said the birth process was painful, they didn’t mention how much. Tom fainted about an hour and a half into it, after glancing where he shouldn’t have. You laughed while the doctors got him standing again. He was by your side for the entire time, and when you finally gave your last push, the two of you heard the wales of your sweet baby girl.

“Did so well, love.” You’d heard him whisper while he kissed your sweaty forehead.

Seven hours later, you were sitting up after having just slept for a good amount of time. Scarlet was sleeping calmly in your arms. Tom was squeezed onto the bed next to you, arms carefully wrapped around your exhausted body. He’d cried four times already.

“Ma’am, your families are here.” A nurse had come into the room with a small smile before opening the door wider to allow visitors in.

Harry and Gemma were first up. They’d been here the longest, having received a call when they were closer to the hospital than everyone else.

You glanced up when you heard Harry gasp. “She’s beautiful.” He whispered, tip toeing over to the bed, seating himself in one of the chairs.

“C- can I hold her?” You nod, handing him the small child. He graciously takes her in his tattoo covered arms, holding her head cautiously while he coos at her. She wakes momentarily to giggle at the new arms. He visibly pouts, and when you notice water on Scarlet, you grow worried.

But all of that is washed down the drain when you see Harry’s red, teary eyes. He smiles happily, even through the tears, and you breathe out a laugh through your own cries.

“She looks just like you.”

You wipe a tear away, reaching out to hold one of his hands.

“Just like you.”

[sapphiics]

All I wanna get is(just a little more closer)

a/n: I listened to Nights by Frank Ocean for a good two and a half hours straight writing this.

dt: @ellesgreenaway india you are the sole reason i finished this I really needed the encouragement thank you so much babes

word count: 1.7k

content warning: none! it’s barely angsty and includes a happy ending

———

“You didn’t have to walk me home.”

 “I mean I’m pretty sure you were invited to at least three different after parties.” JJ continues, turning towards Elle. The two of them were walking home from the last football game of the season. Their last one ever, senior year finally upon them.

“Parties that I’m not even remotely interested, seeing as how you’re not gonna be there.” Elle’s hair tossing over her shoulder as she looks at JJ. Her silky brown hair, curly and damp after tonight’s game.They’re natural, sitting just below Elle’s shoulders, framing her face perfectly. JJ’s always liked the curls.

Truth be told, JJ’s liked just about everything concerning Elle Greenaway, since the day she looked out her bedroom window to see a U-Haul truck parked outside, a young girl moving boxes into the house across the street in November of junior year. It didn’t help that Elle happened to be a star soccer player at her old school, and their similar interests meant JJ and her had 5 classes together. Or that she wore the same vanilla perfume single day, a scent JJ couldn’t get out of her head.

But it was when Elle really started being close with her, the two of them practically joined at the hip, that JJ’s innocent infatuation turned deeper. When they started going to practice together, getting lunch, meeting up outside of school. Sleepovers in JJ’s bed, their legs intertwined under the heavy quilt she uses as a comforter. She can still remember the first night the two of them shared the same bed, facing each other with their hands folded under their heads. The following morning brings the brutal news to JJ’s heart, that she has the biggest crush on her best friend. A crush that’s only intensified as the months go by, to the point where JJ finds herself both wanting to be around Elle constantly, and wishing the brunette was far away from her as to prevent further heartbreak. But Elle was irresistible, and JJ couldn’t avoid her even if she wanted to. So she shoved it down, deep down into her stomach, convincing herself that she and Elle could be friends. Just friends.

Only ever friends.

The ever so prominent fact that Elle still thought JJ was dating somebody only made matters worse. 

She wasn’t wrong to think so, considering up until three days ago, JJ had been in a steady relationship with Will Lamontagne. The charming country boy, Will came to their school just a couple months before Elle did, and him and JJ hit it off like nobody else. He was sweet, unassuming, and treated her with nothing but respect. From the moment he met her parents, Mr & Mrs. Jareau have been daydreaming over their future wedding. Everybody expected them to make it, the one couple from high school to go the distance, stick it out to the inevitable end. Half the town’s got bets on them getting married right after graduation.

But Will wasn’t clueless, and JJ had never been the best at hiding her emotions. After all, there was a reason they worked so well together for so long. He may not be her great love, but he knew her and her feelings, a fact that kept JJ with him for almost a year. Despite how much he loved her, and he did love her, Will knew it wasn’t reciprocated, and JJ was never going to break his heart. Nothing surprised her more than to see him at her doorstep that Tuesday afternoon, a medium-sized cardboard box in his hands.

Her volleyball sweatshirt hanging over the edge, a picture of the two of them at homecoming sticking out of the box. The overwhelming sorrow she could feel radiating from him as he broke up with her already made her feel awful, but it was the sincerity in his voice when he told her to be with who truly makes her happy that broke her. A pointed look ,silently telling her that he knows, brings tears to her eyes and forces her arms to wrap tightly around his neck. Twisting her hands in his shirt and breathing in the smell of aftershave and pine that always came Will, JJ loved him more in that moment than she ever could remember in the 8 months they’ve been dating. 

Which brings her back to the present, where she finds Elle looking at her strangely, a nervous yet curious look on her face. Which unnerves JJ, considering Elle isn’t nervous about anything. She’s always been the more confident, teetering on brash, one of the pair. “I found out something interesting today,” Elle starts, “Apparently somebody broke up with their long term boyfriend this week and neglected to tell me.” Her mildly accusing tone caused JJ to stop and turn fully towards Elle. “I figured it wasn’t important,” she shrugs, “ I wasn’t heartbroken and we had a busy week to focus on anyway.”

“You guys dated for nine months, this is practically a divorce.” Elle laments, looping her arm through JJ’s and leaning into the blonde, “Obviously you’re feeling something about this, and I want to be there for you.” Her voice turns soft at the end, and JJ finally meets Elle’s eyes, the care and love in her face shining.

The love JJ can see Elle has for her is almost stifling, stealing her breath and making her heart ache. What she would give to have that love mirror hers, for Elle to want the same things JJ’s wanted for the past year. The two of them stare into each other’s eyes, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and JJ can smell the strong scent of Elle’s trademark icebreakers. She could've sworn Elle glanced down at her lips when her tongue poked out and swiped against them, glossing over the cracks caused by the impending winter. Whatever was happening between them ended almost as soon as it began, a fleeting moment that passed far too quickly for JJ’s taste.

“So don’t bottle it up and tell me next time,” Elle says, giving JJ an exaggerated eye roll, following up with a large grin across her face as she starts to pick up speed. JJ lags behind her, not ready to go home just yet. They still reach her house in no time, and JJ finds herself desperate for more time with her, just the two of them in their own little bubble separate from the world. She gradually slows as they approach her walkway, JJ hoping she doesn’t have to say anything, that Elle will just know what she wants.

“You wanna go to the park?” Elle suddenly says ,the words ones that JJ desperately wanted to hear. She nods feverishly, her cheeks heating up as Elle slides her hand down her arm, grasping JJ’s. The pair walk in relative silence, Elle’s soft hands fitting perfectly into her own, their shoulders pressed together as they march towards the tiny playground in their cul-de-sac. It’s only when they’re sitting side by side at the top of the slide when Elle finally spits out what JJ can tell she’s been waiting to say all evening.

“ Why are you so okay about this?” At JJ’s surprised face Elle backtracks, “ I mean if you dated for so long and you loved each other then how are you so okay about it? It took me a good month to get over my last girlfriend, and we weren’t half as serious as you and Will.” 

JJ sighs, the words on the tip of her tongue since the breakup really settled in, “ I guess I just wanted something more, I mean Will is a great guy, but I want to feel more than just complacent in a relationship, you know?” JJ lets out a small huff at the end, her breath clouding up in front of her. “ I felt so guilty about it, but I never,” she pauses, an odd sense of vulnerability she’s scared to give in to settling inside of her, “ I never yearned for Will. I mean, he was there and he made me happy, but I would be completely okay without him.”

“I just want someone I can’t live without, someone who I want to be with always.” Finally letting out what she’s been thinking this entire week, she’s surprised to see Elle sitting closer, her hands in both of JJ’s.

“You want passion.”

Elle turns her entire body towards JJ, keeping their hands intact as she stares into the blonde’s eyes.

“You want someone who can’t be replaced.” JJ can’t look away, even as she feels Elle’s hands slide up her arm. Her breath starts coming quicker, and she can feel her hair getting pushed back by Elle’s slender fingers as they get impossibly closer.

“You deserve to be completely in love with whoever you’re with JJ. You deserve the best.” Elle sliding her hand closer to the back of JJ’s head, their noses grazing each other. “You think so?” JJ’s voice a small whisper she slides her fingers towards Elle’s waist, her heart near beating out of her chest. The insecure part of her brain convincing her that this was a dream, one of the many she’s had about her best friend.

But then Elle leans in that last inch, cradling JJ’s head in her hand, and there was no doubt in her brain that this was real. Cause Elle’s lips were just as soft as they looked, and they moved against JJ’s in a gentle yet all-consuming way that wiped away everything from her mind except this moment. JJ could taste the fruitiness of Elle’s raspberry gum, and the peach slushie they shared during halftime was still faint in her mouth. It’s like everything she was missing out on, all the emptiness she felt when with Will, was getting filled to the brim by Elle and her kisses, overwhelming JJ in the most addictive way.

When they finally separate, small pants the only sound they can hear as their foreheads touch, something akin to fear strikes through JJ. The knowledge that nothing is ever going to be the same between them hitting her like a freight train.

“ I do,” followed by a chaste peck, “ Of course I do.” And Elle’s grinning at her, trailing her long fingers through JJ’s hair, easing every single worry she could possibly have.

taglist: @greenaway-lewis @scandinavian-punk @ssajelle @morcias @suburban--gothic @jemilyology @rosesblueviolets @willlemonheadsupremacy

[malfoys-demigod]

Turbulence - Draco Malfoy x Reader

requests: Hi i don't know if you take confession, but Hufflepuff! and muggle!Draco has been flooding my mind in recently. Love your writings by the way, keep it up! 😳👌💕💖 // Hi if you're open for requests, can I request a post-war draco x reader in which they are going for their honeymoon or sumth and its her first time by plane. So when a turbulence strikes she gets really scared and thinks they're going to die so she just keeps hugging him till it ends? Sorry if it's too much :[]You didn't ask, but lemme share something i thought bout with you

A/N: I decided to combine these two requests since one wasn’t as specific. I hope you enjoy!

requested by: @sycathorn-slush @amiiretto​ 

@the--queen-of-hell​

Draco had always fancied you. It was really astonishing to believe honestly. You were two things he tried either despising or avoiding, which were being a Hufflepuff muggle. So it was astonishing for the entire school to believe. You fancied him as well of course but you structured your mindset to think differently.

Knowing that you were things that Draco did not like, you told yourself that you and him would never happen in a million years. But it did not stop you from constantly watching him from afar or watching his every Quidditch game he had. You just never knew that the idea of him actually liking you would be possible.

The first actual interaction with him was when it was during your third year. You were spending your free period in the hospital wing being taught the basics of healing by Madam Pomfrey when all of a sudden, Hagrid bursted into the door, holding Draco Malfoy who seemed to be in some sort of pain as he was yelling at Hagrid things that were hard to decipher since he kept rambling.

All lessons about healing fractures and bones were at a pause as you and Madam Pomfrey rushed straight away as Hagrid placed Draco onto the nearest hospital bed. You couldn’t believe it. You were about to help heal Draco Malfoy. It was insane to believe that you were actually going to talk to him instead of avoiding him in order to not be called a ‘Mudblood’ in front of people. Besides, there was no way he was going to call you that in front of two respected authorities of the school.

“What happened, Mr. Malfoy?,” Madam Pomfrey asked as she examined the arm.

“Hagrid’s bloody chicken is what happened!”

“Buckbeak is a kind and loving creature!” Hagrid protested in a pleading voice.

“Looks like a minor injury that Ms. Y/L/N can perform,” Madam Pomfrey said after analyzing Draco’s state, “Have a go with Episkey while I look for an arm sling, dear.” she said, looking at you with a motivating look.

Draco looked at you with disgust as he watched you pull out your wand. You were already expecting an insulting comment from the pureblood but he surprisingly said something different.

“You think you can pull this off, Y/L/N? I think we can all agree that I’d need my arm back in the game for my next Quidditch match.” he asked calmly.

You gave him a small nod since you were a little unsure if you could actually pull it off. “Episkey!” you said, fixing Draco’s small injury. You wanted to jump for joy because this was the first time you assisted someone and it was Draco Malfoy!

He looked at you with a stunned expression as he started moving the joints of his arm slowly, feeling that there was no pain.

“Why are you here, Y/N? Shouldn’t you be off with your muggle friends doing muggle things?” he asked, trying to avoid showing thanks and gratitudes to you.

“I really value hard work and helping others in need and what better way to take interest in being a healer?”

“Huh, such a Hufflepuff I see.,” was all he said since Madam Pomfrey came back to assist him in wearing a sling.

When everything was all finished, Draco simply turned around and started making his way out of the Hospital wing.

Even if Madam Pomfrey gave you the thanks and acknowledgement for being an excellent healer, which was something you were praying for, it all suddenly did not matter. You were now craving for the thanks and acknowledgement of Draco’s as you were surprised he did not say anything bad about your blood status.

Nevertheless, you had to be grateful that he did not trash talk you about anything. You had to thank Helga Hufflepuff for giving you a decent small talk with Draco Malfoy.

Later on during the afternoon, you were entering the Great Hall as you were on your way to meet up with your friends by the Hufflepuff table until suddenly, your tracks had stopped.

“It comes and goes,” said a familiar voice.

You turned to see Draco Malfoy from the Slytherin table talking to his group about his injury.

Pansy was sitting so close to him, examining the injury as Draco continued the conversation.

“Still, I consider myself lucky. If it wasn’t for Madam Pomfrey and her apprentice Y/L/N, another minute or two, I could have lost my arm. Couldn’t possibly do homeworks for weeks.”

Your knees started to weaken as you heard Draco acknowledging you. This was impossible to process as this was probably the first time he’s ever talked good about you. This was put to the test when Pansy looked at him with a bad look.

“Y/N Y/L/N? The muggle? I thought she was useless!”

Draco removed her hand from his arm as he leaned away from Pansy in an instant. “I’ll have you know,” he said, “her dedication and loyalty to being a healer saved me. Like I said, if it wasn’t for her, I could have lost my arm. What part of that don’t you get, honestly?” he snapped.

As he was looking away from an irritated yet ashamed Pansy, his eyes met yours, as you were still standing in the middle of the Great Hall like a lost puppy. You wanted to run away from the situation you were in or at least walked away and pretended you did NOT lock eyes with the person you should have been avoiding your entire life.

But no, taken by surprise yet again, Draco Malfoy gave you a small smile, nodding at you then turned back to his friends. You wanted to look behind you and assume that it was for someone else but you had to be serious, there was no possible way it was for someone else. The table behind you was Gryffindor’s and it would be highly unlikely that he just smiled at the golden trio who were also listening to Draco’s conversation.

From there on, a friendship with Draco started to grow. It took time for you and him to actually be friends. It started out with small talks initiated by Draco, which confused most of the students witnessing something they never thought of happening. Then it moved on to being seatmates and partners in every experiment or academic sorts. And finally taking the role of star-crossed lovers.

Nobody knew that this would ever happen but it did and some people were for it while some weren’t. You and Draco proved to society that your relationship did nothing but become stronger over the years.

Despite being a part of Dumbledore’s Army while he was a Death Eater, your relationship was complicated yet still strong. You knew in your heart that he was someone born without a choice concerning the situation. If he fought back or left the Death Eater’s there would be serious consequences including him, his family, and possibly you. That was why you brought your relationship to the “under the radar” stage in your life. Some people thought you finally broke up while some might have suspected that you were keeping things low.

It was true. Once the whole war ended, you brought your relationship back to life, back to the public’s eyes. Draco remained the same: he was madly in love with you while his parents changed their outlook on you.

At first Draco kept your relationship a secret from his parents. He only revealed to his parents that he was seeing you when things started mellowing after the war. He brought you to his home to meet the changed Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy who were actually pleased to meet you. The remarked you for being the “loyal Hufflepuff” by their son’s side and welcomed you into the family.

It only became official when Draco popped the question a year later. When things started getting better after the war, Draco was finally ready to take the relationship to different heights.

When he asked Lucius if he could receive the blessings of asking for your hand in marriage, Lucius was more than happy to finally hear that Draco wanted to marry you. As he agreed to bestow his blessings, he also wanted to show Draco his deep gratification of having someone like you in his son’s life by taking care of the expenses of the wedding and honeymoon.

After finally tying the knot, there came the honeymoon. The Malfoy’s wanted to openly open their arms of Muggle customs by paying for travel expenses for the honeymoon.

You were really excited to hear that Draco was open to the idea of traveling through an airplane.

“First class?,” you asked, “Really?,”

“Of course, love. I only want to give you the best.,” he said, kissing your forehead as you finally took your seats.

There was something you’ve been meaning to tell him. Surely it wasn’t something serious to anyone else if they have heard, but to you, it was a little serious since it was personal.

As you fasten your seatbelt, you looked down at your shoes with hesitation as you were bottling up the thoughts you had to let out.

Draco took notice of this immediately and placed an arm on your shoulder, tilting his head to look at you.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did you forget something?”

“I have a confession, Draco.”

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised. “What is it, Y/N?”

“You’re not the only one whose never rode an airplane before.”

Draco exhaled in relief as he was thinking of many worse ideas in mind. He let out a small laugh as ruffled your hair, “My dear, you scared the bloody hell out of me. I thought of so many scary ideas in my mind.,” he replied, “Well, may this first experience we have together be the first of many airplane rides.,” he cheered you up.

You happily nodded in response as your head leaned on his shoulder, holding his hand with high hopes, only for these high hopes to turn upside down an hour later.

When the pilot asked for everyone to fasten their seatbelts to prepare for incoming turbulence, you were slightly concerned since you were unfamiliar with the experience of turbulence.

When the plane had its first shake, you felt as if your soul was about to leave your body as you held a tight grip on your arm rests.

“Huh,” Draco let out a small laugh, “Never knew airplanes could do that.” as he started looking around to see if there were any panicked riders. So far you were the only one spooked.

It only got worse when turbulence started striking again and again. You felt like you lost count of the number of shakes that the plane had encountered as you were focused on trying to release your fear by venting off the weirdest things you could think of to Draco.

“I swear,” you yelled, “WE ARE GOING TO DIE!”

“Dear-“

“Bloody hell, what if we don’t ever make it to our honeymoon?!” “Did you ever hear of what happened to Amelia Earhart?!? She was lost at sea after a bloody plane crash!! That could happen to us RIGHT NOW!”

Draco places his arms on your shoulders as he was sitting in an uncomfortable position since his seatbelt was tightly fastened. “Dear, I do not know who this Amelia woman is but I assure you, we are not going to die. If you were listening to the few stewardesses who came by, they assured us that turbulence occurs in almost every plane ride and it is not the cause of plane accidents.”

“What in Merlin’s beard do I do then?!”

Draco opened his arms, showing invitation to a hug, “Let me comfort you. Come and hug me and I promise I won’t let go of you until we reach our destination.”

You looked at him with fear but with his heart warming smile, the tension in your shoulders started relaxing as you finally inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Promise?” you asked.

“Honey, we just made vows recently. And aside from that, have I ever let you down?”

“I suppose not.” you said with a small smile.

“Now come and lean on my shoulder. Let me prove to you that I am a man of my words.” he softly said as you started placing your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm on your waist.

Feeling his warm body made you feel extremely comfortable as you started resting your eyes, which eventually led you to falling asleep and forgetting everything about the turbulence.

He was definitely a man of his words.

[monday-headache]

Hey Simon! Thank you for the amazing ask <3 Right back at you:

I love that you're writing/arting about characters that have never met in canon (Gaige and Sasha, Fiona and Scarlett). What drew you to writing these characters together? And are there any more that you'd love to explore one day? :D

Hey Sarah, glad it made you smile. I want to have more interaction with the fandom so I’ll try to make this a regular, so please be free to send me questions whenever. I’d love to read your thoughts ;)

And Omg, that’s a fantastic question as well but, be aware, this is gonna be an essay as well.

Mhh where to start, where to start.

So first things first, My headcanon of why I think Gaige and Sasha would be best friends started a pretty long while ago, way before I even got gently pushed towards the Idea of really starting to write about it in the first place. Because you must know, even though Strays is my first longshot, it is also my very first fanfc I’ve ever written in like ever. So no matter how shitty, great or whatever it will turn out to be or how well others will be, Strays has and will always have a special place in my heart. And I’m not gonna rush things either, even when the fandom will die out, my Ideas for it will flow ;)

But yeah how it started. To put it simply Gaige was my first character In Borderlands ever that I played myself. I knew about the Lore of 1 and I’ve played 1 with a friend by the time it came out, but I played 1 myself AFTER I finished 2 So that may be a big reason, why I have such an open spot for Gaige. But also because she is fun, quirky extreme, punky, loves robots and tech... to put it simple a lot of traits I really love about a character. Her backstory with the science fair was so fresh and funny, and it may be one of my favorite spoken dialogue interactions heard over echo cassette’s

Then after Bl2 my love for Borderlands continued, played 1, played TPS and then... There was Tales, and by god do I loved Tales, and I hella still do. You probably know the feeling yourself. And with the love for the game, came a huge love for it’s cast. Like seriously I think besides Tector there isn’t really a character where I was going like, “ugh this one is trash” on the contrary. And besides my obvious love for the main 2 characters, there was a big love for the Deutagonist’s of this masterpiece. Namely Sasha and Loaderbot.

Loaderbot may have officially taken the spot for me as most favorite Robot in video game history ever (and Gortys for the most precious character ever). Like his whole segment of kidnapping them, forcing them to tell the truth, only to show how much he had grieved, how betrayed he felt and that he did all of tha  for his loved ones. Man say what you will about him, but damn he was written perfectly. I was blown away.

Secondly is of course, as you might have guessed it Sasha. I could go lengths for her too, how much I love and admire her character, how real she felt as a sister, a pandoran and last but not least as a human. Sasha felt to me like the most well rounded out character of the 6 (pls don’t hate me for it guys) From the punk rebellious attitude, to learning that she had an anti Hyperion pirate radio, that she used to broadcast bad things that happens in her neighbourhood, to her adapting her morals and learn that even in the most corrupt organisations there are still normal people struggling with their own life, and then progressing from it. And lastly after everything was at loss, the money the plan, she was willing to sacrifice her whole life for a dear friend/s, even on her dying breath putting both Rhys and her Sister at ease and in her last moments. Amazing.

Oooh boy and that was just the prelude to it all XD

After that I noticed a lot of similarities, between characters. Sasha and Loaderbot for instance are both pragmatic, put the lives of their loved ones over their own, love tech, are socially open people while holding back on information and emotion. Not to mention the scenes in 2 and 3 and also 4 and 5 where it is slightly hinted how well Sasha and Loaderbot work together, without sharing much words. So naturally the Idea was born that Sash and LB became quite close.

And the same goes for Sasha and Gaige. I was actually surprised that nobody (not entirely true, I saw one fanart of it) seemed to made that connection before as it was so obvious to me. So basically Sasha is a softer version of Gaige, in many terms. They both have a big heart for tech and especially guns. They both hosted a small radio broadcast that blew up in their region over night. Both are anarchist’s who spread the word for awareness, how fucked up the company war actually is. Both are not really good at their aim. Both call robots as their closes’t friends. Both share a deep hatred for Handsome Jack and his doings. Both fought a giant ass Vault Monster and nearly died in the process of doing so. Both got screwed up big time and now have a huge bounty on their head... So you see the list goes on, and honestly the more I write them, the more similarities I notice, both hc wise and canon wise. So there more I thought about it, and noticed similarites the more I fell in love with the Idea of them becoming close. And from there the Idea was born, that they probably met on a job ( the most likely scenario in the Borderlands universe). It had to be before BL3 of course, and to be after Tales naturally so that only put one timeline in the focus, Commander Lillith.

To be honest, I didn’t expect everything turning out so big. Like seriously I orifinally planed like 8k words or so. Now I’m dangling on the Idea of having 13 chapters and a big ass finally, a neat wrap up of everything and even a possible epilogue XD Yeah, that wasn’t what I expected either but damn do I love doing it.

Like seriously my headcanons only just gotten bigger and bigger. From a whole nebula system in the galaxy, to regions I created in my own mind for it, to even complex backstorys. Like why Sasha wears a headband, why she loves guns so much, what happened to her and Fi’s parents, why she was raised by her aunt, what does Felix have to do with it, Why Gaige has this kicks of both sudden depression and manical behavior. Why she’s so close to her dad, but her mom wasn’t even mentioned once (but teased), why she wanted to become a wedding planer, and why she is so obsessed with robots and margarita mix. I think one day, this thing will turn into a tabletop game or something XD

So estimated 20k words on my answer later and now we are going for my own created ship Scarleona. Don’t worry, as much as I like to gosh about that too, it wont take as long I prommy.

Scarleona was created in a sudden urge while thinking about what happpend to Fiona while Strays happened. And similar to Gaige and Sasha, Scarleona was born from a dynamic. Especially of those from two Ladybosses with Silvertongue and speech 100XD Fiona and Scarlett may have become my favorite Fiona ship (no offense everybody) because of how well they play off each other. Fiona is a con artist, her whole life she was used to swindle, to play it cool and by ear, go with the flow, and expect the unexpected. So here core idea is that she is manupulating people by LYING to them.

Scarlett on the other hand is similar while also the complete opposite to it. She is backstabby, plays with her charm and most importantly she is dead honest while tricking people. In fact even so honest that people don’t even realised that they got tricked even though she told it several times before. And this dynamic is so fascinating to me. You see, Fiona has almost an answer an action for everything prepared, but the idea that her winning honesty, is mind puzzling to Fiona is so perfect. @michellespenscratchz wrote me a drabble several months ago and I think that line describes it just perfect

“So, let me see if I got this straight,” Fiona tilted her head inquisitively at Captain Scarlett. “You needed these Vault Hunters’ help to find this treasure for you. So you…just asked them?”

“That’s right.” Scarlett nodded, inspecting her hook nonchalantly.

“Even though they knew you wanted it for yourself?” Fiona asked.

“Indeed,” Scarlett replied.

“And they…” Fiona blinked, “…knew you planned on fighting them for it once they had it.”

“Of course they did,” Scarlett shrugged. “I told them as much.”

“You told them?”

“Yes.”

“And they helped you anyway?”

“Precisely.” Scarlett turned her hat against the blistering wind. “I fear I don’t quite grasp what about this is so difficult to grasp, Fiona dear.”

“Huh.” Fiona cast her gaze out across the expanse of Pandoran horizon. “I guess I just gotta–I dunno–rethink my whole life right now.”

So yeah, that was basically it. I kinda diagressed and didn’t want to hurt your eyes more looking at the long ass text, but please if you have some more questions to it, pls hit me. I love to gosh about it <3

And thank you so much <3 This was hella fun

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Wait For It

Dean stalks out of the Impala agitatedly.

It's a sunny afternoon, and Sam's on the porch, coffee on the table next to him, flipping through his political science handbook. He looks up when he hears the car door being slammed, and his eyes follow Dean as he lands in the other chair around the table.

Then, without warning or premonition, Dean starts to talk.

He's got a new colleague.

Novak, he calls him. With gritted teeth, frowning eyebrows, and feeling.

They don't usually talk about people. So Sam listens.

Considering the amount of time Dean devotes talking about how Novak walked into his office, stride radiating importance as though he'd been summoned by Dean himself - well, he really must be a pain in the ass.

*

Over the next week, Sam's not always outside when Dean comes home from work. When he finally is, on a Thursday, Dean plants himself across him and starts speaking immediately.

Sam closes his book, purses his lips and pays attention.

Castiel, he's become.

Horrible, he's remained.

When Dean's done ranting, the sun's gone down. He gets up, hands on his hips. "He's just a jackass about everything, Sammy. Who's pretentious about eyecolor? Nobody's eyes can be that blue."

Sam nods sympathetically.

Dean goes away to make dinner, satisfied.

*

Midterms are round the corner.

Without really paying attention to it, Sam's stopped flipping through his handbook, and started highlighting in his textbook. He stays up late, and wakes up early, determinedly chipping away at the ginorminous block of syllabus, bit by bit.

He also stops being out on the porch when Dean comes back from work, and Dean tends to not barge into his bedroom to talk about the awful people he works with, so that's that.

But dinner isn't saved.

It's a simple conversation about mashed potatoes, and Dean goes off. "You won't believe how ridiculous Castiel is about honey, dude." Sam asks for a second helping, he also receives an anecdote on Castiel's ungrateful attitude towards Dean.

Sam doesn't even dare to mention his dislike for bacon once, for all the times Dean offers him it - because he's sure he'd get another indepth analysis of how Castiel hates Dean.

But when they settle down to watch Law & Order after dinner that night, Sam gets a chance to think. He wonders, not for the first time, how truly terrible Cas must be, for Dean to talk about him all the frigging time, and by the end of the episode, he's decided to be the pillar of support his brother needs, right now.

So when Dean starts, randomly, about how Castiel doesn't even appreciate good music, Sam whips out his puppy eyes, and listens to the entire tale.

*

Weeks pass.

His first paper is Tuesday, Ethics. Sam spends most hours of the day on his desk, holed up in his room.

It would be unfair to Dean to say he used up all the time Sam did spend around him, to talk about Cas.

(Which Castiel had ended up being, obviously.)

He only used like sixty percent of it.

*

"He's just...a weird, dorky little guy." Dean ends, biting his lip, eyes cast to the floor. His hands play with the hem of his jacket - he's still in work clothes.

Sam sighs.

"You know what?" Dean stands up. "I'm going to make coffee. Do I get you a mug or a thermos?"

"Thermos, please." Sam calls after him, gratefully.

"Okay. Carry on, bitch."

*

Sam feels guilty.

He's been so caught up in college, deadlines and exams, he's hardly talked to Dean except to thank him for all the coffee and sandwiches.

Dean may be a jerk all year, but he can get really supportive when Sam needs him to be.

Sam feels bad for not doing the same.

So when Dean puts a peanut butter sandwich in front of him, at one am while Sam panics through his last night revision, he looks up at his brother blankly and asks. "Hey, how's the guy who's been making your life hell? You stopped telling me about him."

"Oh, uh." Dean pauses.

Sam waits, but Dean takes too long, as if he's contemplating, so he takes a bite of his sandwich instead.

"He's not that bad." Dean finally lets out, exhaling into a hint of a smile.

Sam raises his eyebrows.

*

"To you kicking Stanford's ass!" Dean raises his bottle, perhaps the sixth toast of the night, giant grin plastered on his face.

"I keep telling you the results are a far way from being out yet - but hear, fucking hear!" Sam clinks his glass to Dean's beer, smile equally wide. He's finally done. There's finally no more papers, no more tests, no more revision.

He made it through.

"I'm proud of you." Dean mutters lazily, leaning back on the seat.

"Y-yeah. I know." Sam returns joyfully, neither of them really thinking about what they're saying. They've been drinking for hours. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Dean repeats, and proceeds to chuckle at his words. There's a moment of silence - well, as silent as it ever gets in the Roadhouse. Then Dean speaks up. "Guess what, Sammy?"

Sam doesn't even correct him.

"What?"

"I'm going to ask Cas out today." Dean declares, and Sam's eyebrows go up again, because while he's definitely known his brother's into guys for years, he hadn't expected Dean to come out like this.

But six beers in, and a declaration of pride out, Dean just ups and says it.

"I think I have a crush on him."

*

Many months go by. It's Sam's final year. And he's moving back onto campus.

"I'm going to miss you." Sam tells Dean, after they've finished lugging all of his bags into Jessica's room. Dean's half sitting on Baby's hood, and Sam has his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Shuddup." Dean throws back, and he definitely sounds weird. "I'm like, seven minutes away."

"Still." Sam grins, earnest.

"Yeah, alright. I'm not making you move out, okay?" Dean straightens, scoffing. "Have fun convincing Jessica to make you breakfast food at midnight."

"Yeah but," Sam laughs. "You live like, seven minutes away."

"Like hell I do. Get your ninety-percent peanut butter ass over here." Dean sighs, and Sam walks up to him, letting Dean pull him into a hug.

They hold onto each other, safety in the familiarity. Both of them know that they're probably not going to live together again. Sam has a plan after college, which doesn't involve moving back to Dean's. But they've shared a house for so long, it's going to feel weird.

It's going to be strange.

To lighten the moment, Sam whispers. "So, uh. Cas is moving in after I'm gone, isn't he?"

"He's probably already redecorating the place to get rid of your nerd cooties." Dean thumps him on the back, as they separate. There's a smile lingering on his face.

"What about your nerd cooties?" Sam bitchfaces at him.

"He likes those." Dean defends, crossing his arms on his chest.

"I bet he does." Sam snorts, and Dean reddens, realizing he just walked right into that, and then he just swears under his breath goodnaturedly as Sam walks into his new place.

*

Sam's phone rings.

It's only eight, on a Saturday, and Sam doesn't have to leave for office at nine like everyday, so he's sleeping in. Amelia's next to him, and she elbows him when the annoying ringtone wakes her before it wakes Sam.

"Sorry, babe." Sam tells her, kissing the top of her head distractedly, picking up the phone and sitting up when he hears Dean's voice.

It's trembling with excitement.

"Sam!" Dean gushes, and there's really no other word for it. There seems to be a commotion behind him, but the happy kind. Dean's tone is almost ecstatic.

"Dean?" Sam confirms, groggily.

"Dude, Cas just asked me to marry him!" Dean let out, almost breathless. "And I said yes! Of course, I said yes! We're getting married, Sammy!."

A smile grows on Sam's face. "Dude. You're getting married."

"I'm getting married!" Dean repeats, and proceeds to chuckle at something Cas is saying apparently, because then he tells Sam he's putting him on speaker.

"Hello, Sam." Cas greets him, sounding thoroughly overjoyed.

"Congratulations, Cas." Sam says, beaming now. He's so happy for them both. Cas is amazing, and he gets Dean, and Sam knows Dean loves him so much. "And, uh, Dean? You better fight a good fight for my Bestmanship, versus Castiel's brother, okay?"

Dean laughs, and it's the kind of rare excited laugh which makes everyone around smile too.

Cas answers, instead, his voice just as excited. "Don't worry, I'd rather have Gabriel be the caterer."

Sam chuckles. "Good."

"Give the phone back a minute, Cas," Dean says in the background, and then it's off-speaker, and just Dean, again. "You're not busy being important or anything, are you?"

Sam looks around him. "No?" Dean hesitates for a beat, until Sam catches the gist. "Dude! Of course I'm not busy. Tell me everything!" Dean lets out a sound which is definitely a squeal, though he'd never own up to it. "How did it happen? Why did it happen so early?"

Dean exhales, happily, and Sam can picture the smile on his face.

"Wait, is there a ring? Dean, I need you to show me the ring." Sam adds, just before Dean starts to tell Sam about it all. Just like he had, at the very beginning.

*

Six days to the wedding, Sam sits on the old porch chair, tapping his pen on his notebook.

He needs to write a speech.

There's so much to tell. The two of them are adorable, for god's sake. They tend to be cheesy even in front of him, and so unaware of it - Sam wonders if they turn into mushy marshmallows when his back is turned.

Maybe he should include that in his speech. "Mushy Marshmallows" is a cute alliteration. Huh.

After an entire evening of thinking, he pushes himself off his seat to get a cup of coffee. (He'd try to convince Dean to make some, but him and Cas have an appointment with a florist for the wedding.)

In any case, Sam may not be done with the speech entirely, but he figures he's earned a break. You see, he's already got an unbelievably great title. He can work from there.

"How Dean Is The Worst Judge Of People."

He has a good first line, too. "Exhibit A: Novak-slash-Castiel-slash-Cas."

[giantmuschroom]

Writer’s Guild - Mark

For celebrating the Got7 newest comeback i was lucky enough to be part of this colaboration with the most wonderfull people on this planet. Words cannot describe how gratefull i am! 

So here is my story, hope you will enjoy it! 

The collab is now complete <3  Here you can find everything: Intro / Mark / Jaebeom / Jackson / Jinyoung / Youngjae / Bambam / Yugyeom

“It wasn’t interesting in the slightest!”

“Why should you be interested in this book? You shouldn’t, because the book itself is boring.”  

“As much I trust JYP Publishing, this was a really bad move.”  

“The most boring book known to man.”

Mark opened his eyes, when the carriage bumped on another rock. He hadn’t dreamed of that fiasco for a long time. Maybe it was the change that bought back unpleasant memories. He looked out of the window and the castle came in to view. It was a magnificent building; it was his fresh start.  

You were really proud of your job. The only one in the family who got to work in the castle and serve the Wentworth family. After four years of good services, you got to be head maid for the library and two other reading rooms.  

You loved the library, the serenity of the place, the smell of books. Furthermore, you loved the old librarian.  He was a kind one, full of knowledge. One day he caught you looking at one of the books and taught you how to read. Since then you would spend your free time in the library. One day, you found him in his chair dead. You cried the hardest at his funeral. However, life goes on with the Wentworth family and as any noble family they hired a new librarian, who will take care of the books, buy new ones and take care of them. So, they could boast about their wealth.  

After completing your duties, you climbed the ladder to the highest shelf. There were your favourite books, not the fancy ones, but the stories that spoke to your heart. You reached for one, standing on your tippy toes.  

“Oh, come on! I want to read you,” you said. Then you heard a chuckle in the library, turned too quickly and the next thing you know, you are falling to the ground. You brace yourself for impact, but it never came.  

“What do we have here,” said an amused voice above your head. You opened your eyes and looked upon the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.

“I’m Y/N. I’m the maid here,” you said and he put you down. “And who are you?” you asked suspiciously.  

“I’m Mark, and this is my library,” he answered.  

“Your library?”  

He smiled. “I’m the new librarian, so kind of.”  

“I loved Mr. Westley,” you said with a sad smile.  

“He was the kindest man I ever knew. It was him who taught me how to read and then he let me read in here when I had free time,” you explained yourself and looked at him with a hopeful expression.  

He picked up the novel and with a “Just return it, when you are done,” he gave it to you. You smiled at him and ran away.  

                                                        ***

“Mark?” He lifted his head and looked at you. You were curled up in a chair by the library window, book on your lap and shoes down.  

“What does aggrandize mean?” you asked.  

“What do you mean?”  

“It says in here ‘it was aggrandized’” he stood up from his desk and walked to you. Your eyes never left the book, but suddenly you felt his breath fan your face.  

“See? Here, this sentence, I don’t understand,” you say and looked at him. His face was so close.  

“Oh this…wait…what are you reading?” he asked.  

“It’s Tales from the village by M.T.. It’s a really good book. The stories are short and sometimes the author uses difficult words for me, but the stories are fun,” you said excitedly and showed him the cover. He rose quickly and turned his back to you.  

“What’s wrong?” you said quietly.  

“It’s nothing. I have lots of work, you should go,” he said sharply.  

                                                 ***

You avoided Mark for an entire week. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were hurt by his cold demeanor. However, it was your duty to clean the library. That’s when you noticed the paper on Mark’s desk.  

Dear Y/N,

It seems like you have been avoiding me. So, I chose to write this letter. I’m sorry I reacted like that. The truth is, and believe me I don’t say it lightly, I’m the author of the book. Apparently, it’s the most boring book in the existence of books. It’s a painful memory for me. I wanted to be the world’s greatest writer, but I gave up after one unsuccessful try. Nobody liked the book and here you are. Enjoying my stories and questioning me about the difficult words I used.  So, I wanted to say thank you.  

Mark.

You smiled. He had really neat handwriting, you thought. You tucked his letter in one of your pockets and walked from the library.  

                                                   ***

“Here is your tea,” you placed the tray on his desk.  

“Thank you, Y/N” he smiled at you.  

“What are you doing?” you asked.  

“Well, Lord Wentworth ordered new books from Sir Walter Scott. So, I’m writing it in the catalogue of the library. I must say my predecessor did a really good job at keeping track of the books,” he explained.

“Oh, so this has a list of all the books in the library?” you asked excitedly.  

“Yes, yes it does. And here are blank pages for the new ones,” he pointed out.  

“That’s marvelous!” you clapped your hands together.  

“So why did you stop writing?” you blurted out suddenly.  

“You read the book,” he said.  

“Yes, I did. We all did actually. I read it to the other staff and they enjoyed it too. Not the difficult words though,” you said.  

“They did?” you laughed at his shocked expression.  

“Yes, maybe the stuck-up city society doesn’t understand, but for us common folks? Your stories hit the right note,” you said.  

“If you put it that way… the bad thing is most of the common folks don’t know how to read. And if you want to make money with writing, you need to please the high society,” he explained.  

“That’s not fair,” you pouted. Mark started laughing and you never felt better.  

                                                   ***

Your friendship with Mark only grew stronger. You spent every free minute in the library. He taught you about the books and you just talked to him about the servants living in the castle. Until Lord Wentworth decided to get his hands on one particularly rare edition of Don Juan by Lord Byron, and naturally he sent his librarian after it.  

“You don’t look so good Y/N,” said one of your fellow maids.  

“Is it because a certain librarian isn’t here?” said another playfully and you glared at her.  

“We are friends,” you clarified it, but it didn’t sound right. It was so much more for you.  

“Yes, friends. Ada and Jon are friends too, that’s why they are getting married on Saturday” both of them started laughing.  

“Stop it, you two. Y/N, you have a letter here,” the footman interrupted your circle.  

“Is it from your friend?” asked the girls and started laughing again.  

Dear Y/N,

Is it inappropriate of me to say that I miss you? Our afternoon teas, your curious questions and your smile. The journey was a long one. There are so many people who want the book. I don’t know if I will be successful. Let’s hope for the best. How is life in the castle? Did Daisy overcome the cold? How is Ada and Jon’s wedding preparations going? Is Miss Cicely still annoying? Are you keeping our library clean? Did you read a new book? I have so many questions and you are so far away. So, prepare your answers when I get back. Say my greetings to all the staff and if it’s not too forward, think of me.  

Mark.

You clutched the letter to your chest. Oh, how you missed him.  

                                                     ***

You didn’t want to seem too eager, but every time you heard a coach arriving, you were at the nearest window looking at who walked out of it. So far it was one suitor for Miss Cicely, mail and supplies. Mark didn’t really say when he will be back, you just heard Lord Wentworth deliver the news about a successful purchase of the book. So, you expected Mark every day now. You had so much to tell him.  

So, when you heard the wheels of another coach you said to yourself that you wouldn’t look. It’s the supplies again since the Wentworth’s are planning the big dinner. You are a strong woman, you will not look.  

“Oh…The librarian is back,” said your friend.

“What?” you turned to her and then made your way to the window. It was him! So, you started to run.  

Mark passed the package to one of the footmen and made his way to the hall. When he heard footsteps approaching, he turned and saw you running.  

You clash with Mark and almost knock him to the ground. Your hands around his neck and bodies pressed together.

“Life was dreadful without you! Daisy is fine, the cold didn’t last long. Ada and Jon got married and you weren’t there! Miss Cicely has another suitor, the girl will never marry, she is too picky! And yes, it’s a little annoying. Of course, I kept the library clean, what have you got me for? No, I didn’t read anything and …” you stopped to catch your breath, but you didn’t have chance to finish your speech. Marks lips locked yours in kiss and you surrendered.

“And I missed you terribly,” you finished when he ended the kiss. So, with a smile you reached for another.  

                                                   ***

Several months later

“Honey! It’s here,” you called. He looked at you and smiled.  

“Come on. Open it! Hurry!” you practically danced. He carefully removed the wrapping paper and took the book out.  

“Letters to my wife by M.T.,” he read the title.  

“It’s beautiful! Look at it,” you beamed as he held the small book in his hands. The title was gold and the book itself was dark blue.  

“I’m so proud of you. Your new book! Without the difficult worlds,” you laughed.  

“But full of love,” said Mark and placed a kiss on your forehead.

[aph-honk-kong]

Soaring Gold

After one successful marriage comes a very unsuccessful engagement. [A continuation of this.] [Very late for day six of @aphasiaweek with the prompt of “culture”.]

Peninsula Hotel, Hong Kong

  “Wah diuuuu, you tried to ask out a Diocesan alumni? I bet she turned you down before you could say ‘five double stars’.”

  “I finally got that apartment in Qatar! It cost an arm and a leg, but it was worth it. Do you think I should go for a place in California, next?”

  “Hold on, which province did you say your sister moved to?”

  A million conversations seem to be happening at the same time, a cacophony of voices filling Harald’s head as he tries to find his table. The dining room is massive, at least three times as big as the entirety of the Dragon Room back in London, and he has no idea where he’s supposed to be sitting.

  “Babe!”

  Leon grabs him from behind and presses a not-so-sneaky kiss to the tip of his ear. He can feel his ears getting warm. “I was wondering where the fuck you’d gone off to. Come on, our table’s right next to the happy couple’s.”

  He’s lead to a table near the centre of the room, covered in a pure-white tablecloth and set with elegant porcelain plates. Ling is already sitting there, deep in conversation with the blonde next to her. Also at the table are Lauren, Berwald and his husband.

  “Why the fuck are you grading papers?” Leon exclaims incredulously.

  “Because I care more about my students than this massive dinner that’s probably going to last three hours, that’s why,” Lauren shoots back. “Heaven forbid some of us actually have to work for a living.”

  He presses a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Oh wow, so hurtful. I feel deeply wounded.”

  Rolling his eyes, Harald sits down. Next to him is Berwald’s husband, who smiles at him. “Well, hello again!”

  “Hi.”

  “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet.” He extends his hand. “My name is Timo Väinämöinen. This is my husband Berwald.”

  Berwald shakes his hand next, saying quietly, “I believe I know your brother?”

  “My brother-in-law, actually,” Harald corrects. “Henrik says you’re the reason he and Stell got to come here.”

  “Speaking of Henrik,” Ling cuts in, “is nobody going to talk about how he looked in that suit of his? I may be a lesbian, but hot damn.”

  The woman next to her scrunches her face up slightly in dissatisfaction.

  “Don’t be jealous, Nat.” She giggles and kisses her temple. “The man’s a pancake, unlike you.”

  “A pancake?” Nat rolls her eyes. “He’s a crepe.”

  Harald chokes on his water. 

...

  A few tables away, many-named Arthur is sitting with Francis, Roderich, Erzsébet, Jo and Niklas, nibbling daintily on the pig’s-ears biscuits served before the banquet is due to start. He occasionally throws a glance towards the married couple’s table, where Vicente and Madeline are practically sitting on each other’s lap. “Goodness gracious, how much do you think they spent on this wedding?”

  “Including the chapel, the after-ceremony lunch, the Rolls-Royce that drove them here, this dining room, the banquet, the complimentary party favours, the lucky draw involving twenty-four-karat gold jewellery and however much it took to get Mr. Edelstein to perform, I assume the entire thing cost at least two million Hong Kong dollars,” Niklas pipes up. He snatches the last biscuit before Arthur can and crunches it loudly. “Give or take a million or so.”

  The adults all stare at him in shock. Roderich leans over to whisper to Arthur, “see, this hip new Scandinavian education system that treats kids like human beings lets them pull things like this. But again, he’s not even wrong...”

  Francis smiles and pats Niklas on the head. “You were very close. The wedding actually cost five million. Five million Euros, that is.”

  His eyes widen. “Euros!?”

  “Oui, Euros. I am pretty sure that’s more than the GDP of some countries.”

  Jo looks around them, big eyes taking in every bit of the room’s extravagance. “If I ever get married, I’m going to do it in a park or something. The guests can wear whatever they want and the only food we serve will be the wedding cake.”

  “Nonsense, I’ll organise your wedding in St. Stephen’s Cathedral.”

  They blow a raspberry at their father. 

  Erzsébet points at the table next to the couple’s. “Say, isn’t that Vicente’s brother?”

  “That’s Leon, all right.” Francis takes a sip of white wine, swirling it around the glass. “He even brought along a common boy. Poor Yao, can you imagine what he’s thinking?”

  “Nothing good, that’s for sure,” Roderich tuts. “At least Leon’s not trying to marry him. The continent would go up in flames.”

  Arthur clicks his tongue disapprovingly. He’s looking at another table, where the more famous guests are sitting. “I know his brother, who attended my luncheons while on tour in England. The two of them are fine fellows, I must admit, but unfit to marry into the Wang family.”

  “That guy dresses funny,” Jo says. “At least, he doesn’t dress like the rest of us. Nik thought he was the usher when we got to the chapel.”

  “Sounds about right!” Francis laughs. “Nobody would expect somebody of his upbringing to know how to dress.”

  A group of waiters enter the room, holding a number of steaming dishes. Roderich sits up straighter and elbows his child sharply. “Put that tablet of yours away, now. The banquet is starting.”

...

  “This is incredible,” Harald says for what feels like the millionth time. Course after course has been served, each plate presenting a clever fusion dish he never would have thought of. Nothing at the Dragon Room could ever compare.

  “Vic hired two of Asia’s best chefs to make tonight’s banquet, plus their wedding cake.” Leon nibbles at a forkful of buttery Arborio rice before setting it down on his almost-finished plate of white-truffle garlic butter and Hangzhou shrimp risotto. “The desserts are going to blow you away.”

  He nods gratefully at the waiter who takes his dish away. “I want to meet the chefs behind this one day.” The next dish is placed down, and Harald stares down at it. On the plate is a mini sculpture made of sorbet, shaped like a rosebush with tiny candy flowers and caramel branches. “You’d have to be some kind of genius to think of this.”

  “I think you’re plenty genius yourself,” Leon quips. He swallows his first bite of sorbet before kissing him briefly. His lips taste of mint.

  Soon, dessert is over and a pair of waiters wheel out the massive wedding cake. The icing around it is pure-white, topped with narrow grey-pink filigree patterns. At the very top of the cake is a sugar butterfly, holding two thin sheets of rice paper covered in thin writing, inked with chocolate sauce. Harald peers closer and realises it’s Vicente and Madeline’s wedding vows.

  “Amazing, huh?”

  “Yeah,” he breathes. 

  Leon stands up the moment they receive their slice, holding his plate and his dessert fork. “Grab your plate, too.”

  “Won’t people notice?” Harald protests.

  “They would, on most cases.” He winks at his brother, who smiles back while balancing the caramel butterfly on a plate. Vicente stands up, hand in hand with Madeline, and lift the plate up. A crowd of photographers surge forward, cameras at the ready, to capture the moment. Leon grabs his hand and tugs. “But not today.”

  Holding on to his plate, Harald follows him out of the dining room, up grand staircases and past jewellery stores until they reach the topmost layer of the hotel. Leon opens the door, revealing a stunning rooftop garden. 

  Nobody is there, and the only sound is that of leaves being rustled. He leads him to sit down on a cushioned loveseat that overlooks the streets and Victoria Harbour. On the other side of the Harbour, Central glows radiantly. 

  “Isn’t this a better view than that stuffy dining room?” Leon eats his first forkful of cake.

  Harald cuts into his slice and pops it into his mouth. It turns out to be a rich red velvet cake, dotted through with pieces of vanilla fudge and lemon crumble. He smiles. “This is good.”

  “We’ve been going to parties all weekend, so it’s nice that we get some time alone.” He reaches across the loveseat to hold his hand. “I’m almost dreading going back to London. What would I do without all my crazy friends?”

  He lets out a short puff of laughter. “‘Crazy’ is an understatement. No sane person would spend so much money on a wedding!”

  “You said once that you’d prefer a simple wedding if you ever got married,” Leon reminisces,” and I gotta say the same. I’d go nuts organising stuff like this!”

  Slice of cake finished, Harald shifts closer to snuggle up to Leon, shrugging his suit jacket off. “I love you,” he mumbles.

  “Love you too.” He drops an absent kiss on the top of his head. “I actually have something to tell you.”

  “Hmm?”

  Leon pulls a small box out of his pocket and shows it to him. Harald’s breath hitches.

  “Normally guys would get down on a knee to do this, but I don’t want to stop cuddling you so here we are.” He drops his gaze for a moment before returning it, strong and sure. “And, uh, I just love you so much and I’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.” He flicks the box open, revealing a simple silver ring. “So what I want to know is... is if you want to marry me.”

  Harald’s cheeks prickle with heat. His heart is thudding wildly in his chest. “I - “ he sputters. “Of cour - “

  “STOP!”

  The door leading back to the hotel swings open. Standing in the doorway is Yao, arms crossed and glaring daggers at them. Leon glares back. “What are you doing here?”

  Yao marches towards the loveseat. “I know what you’re doing,” he says. “Ka Long, I know you’re planning to marry Harald. And I’m here to say that you can’t. I forbid it!”

[mermaidsirennikita]

books (in the time of corona)

PART I: ADULT EDITION

Let’s get real--we’re all going fucking insane.  

Therefore, I’m recommending some books with which you can kill time.  I’m breaking them into categories--the romance category including several subgenres but by and large covering books that focus more heavily on the romance than anything else.  These will all be adult books; I’m doing a separate page for YA recommendations.

I’ll be adding to this list as I finish books that I feel belong here.

ROMANCE

A Knight in Shining Armor by Jude Deveraux.  A young woman is abandoned by her scoundrel of a boyfriend, only to find a literal medieval knight in shining armor.  Pure 80′s cheese, a classic in the time travel subgenre long before Outlander ever happened.

The Circle Trilogy by Nora Roberts.  Six sexy people, three men and three women in Roberts fashion, travel across time and parallel dimensions to fight an evil vampire and her undead army.  Come for three fun romances, stay in particular for the “virgin bookworm queen captures the heart of the formerly evil 1,000 Irish vampire” ship.

The Hating Game by Sally Thorne.  Rival coworkers who’ve always hated each other compete for the same job--until maybe?  They start?  Hooking up?

From Lukov with Love by Mariana Zapata.  A down on her luck singles figure skater pairs up with the pairs champion she’s always despised... Unless they in fact, in a STUNNING TWIST, do not hate each other?

Pestilence by Laura Thalassa.  A BIT ON THE NOSE RIGHT NOW, but I promise that this tale of a hot virgin Horseman of the Apocalypse spreading his plague and the one woman brave enough to fuck him is WORTH IT.  As is the sequel, War.

My Lady’s Choosing by Kitty Curran.  A literal choose your own adventure novel, but the adventures bodice ripping Regency romance plots!!!

The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang.  A sweet and smart woman on the autism spectrum hires a male escort to teach her to be good at sex.  Shit goes DOWN from there.

The Flatshare by Beth O’Leary.  She works days; he works nights.  She needs a cheap place to stay, and he needs a roommate.  So they share a flat and even a bed (sleeping on opposite sides and never at the same time) only communicating through post-it notes throughout the apartment.  What could go wrong?

Marriage for One by Ella Maise.  She can only get her inheritance if she’s married.  Good thing a glacial attorney has offered to marry her out of nowhere, only for paper purposes.  What could go wrong???

The Worst Best Man by Mia Sosa.  Lina is a wedding planner who was left at the altar.  Max is the younger brother of the man who left her, and apparently convinced him to do the leaving.  What happens when they work together?

Get A Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert.  Chloe suffers from a chronic illness, which means that she’s never had a life--and so she compiles a list that will help her get one.  On the list?  Meaningless sex.  Which she won’t have with her building’s superintendent, even though he’s really down to help her cross off all the other items, riiiight?

HISTORICAL FICTION

Passion by Jude Morgan.  The dramatic and intense height of Romantic England, told from the perspectives of Caroline Lamb, mistress of Lord Byron; August Leigh, his sister and lover; Mary Shelley; and Fanny Brawne, fiancee of John Keats.

Girl with a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier.  Impoverished Griet becomes a maid in the household of the painter Vermeer, becoming his muse after he realizes that she has a natural eye--much to the dismay of his wife.

Snow Flower and The Secret Fan by Lisa See. In nineteenth century China, best friends Lily and Snow Flower follow each other through emotional and cultural revolutions, communicating through the secret language of fans.

The Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George.  Cleopatra recounts her life story, from her earliest memory, through her affairs with Caesar and Antony, and her end.

Mistress of Rome by Kate Quinn.  In Domitian’s Rome, a Jewish girl rises from the position of lady’s slave to the emperor’s mistress through wiles and scheming.

The Tiger Queens by Stephanie Thornton.  The rise and fall of Genghis Khan’s empire, as told through the women of his family--from his favorite wife to a clever daughter-in-law.

At the Water’s Edge by Sara Gruen.  A socialite follows her incompetent to Scotland as he struggles to find the Loch Ness Monster and redeem his ancestor’s name--finding herself and questioning her life in the process.

A Year of Ravens.  A collection of short stories by different authors, all centering on Boudica’s rebellion through the eyes of her countrymen and her enemies.

Feast of Sorrow by Crystal King.  A slave becomes a chef in the treacherous household of a social climber struggling to gain the favor or Caesar August.

Fatal Throne.  Six authors tell the stories of Henry VIII’s wives, all from their differing perspectives.

Daisy Jones and The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid.  The rise and fall of a 1970s rock band is charted through the recollections of its members--as they recall what drove them apart, and in particular the intense relationship between the leader singers.

THRILLERS

The Girl in 6E by A.R. Torre.  A woman with murderous impulses locks herself in her apartment to keep the public safe, making a living as a camgirl.  She’s left torn between morals and impulse when she begins to suspect that one of her “fans” is dangerous.

Little Deaths by Emma Flint.  In 1960s America, a single mother finds her personal life and image called into question when she’s accused of murdering her two young children.

My Sister, The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite.  A nurse covers up her beautiful sister’s murders, only to be caught between loyalties when the doctor she loves falls for said sister.

The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine.  A plain “nobody” transforms herself in order to steal a high society housewife’s husband, only to deal with more than she bargained for.

The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen.  A woman obsesses over her ex-husband’s new fiancee, leading her to disturbing lengths.

The Other Woman by Sandie Jones.  After meeting her ideal man, a woman must contend with his possessive mother, who will do anything to maintain her hold over him.

Something in the Water by Catherine Steadman.  A couple on their dream honeymoon find something in the water that will change the course of their life together.

The Au Pair by Emma Rous.  The day Seraphine and her twin brother were born, their mother flung herself off a cliff and their nanny disappeared.  Decades later, Seraphine discovers a photo taken of her parents just before her mother’s death--with only one baby.  The only person who holds the key to the mystery?  The au pair.

My Lovely Wife by Samantha Downing.  A couple keeps the spark alive through murder.

Lock Every Door by Riley Sager.  A young woman takes a job apartment-sitting in a high-end Manhattan building.  Shortly after she befriends another sitter, the girl goes missing--with everyone else acting like nothing is amiss.

The Wives by Tarryn Fisher.  Thursday is one of her husband’s three wives, though she’s never met the other two.  When she finally does meet the third wife, she discovers a woman far different from what she expected--and covered in bruises.

FANTASY/SUPERNATURAL/HORROR

Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier.  Sorcha is the youngest of seven children in medieval Ireland.  When her stepmother curses her six older brothers to live as swans, Sorcha agrees to weave them shirts of painful thistles, all the while remaining silent, to break the spell.

Black Pearls by Louise Hawes.  A collection of dark fairy tale retellings.

The Incarnations by Susan Barker.  A man receives letters from an anonymous source, detailing his supposed past lives throughout historical China.

Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust.  A dark Snow White retelling, with a stepmother whose goals extend far beyond the princess.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo.  Alex Stern is discovered as the sole survivor of a brutal multiple murder, and is promptly scooped up by a group charged with monitoring the occult societies at Yale.  Now disguised as a university student, Alex must figure out who’s been murdering locals, while also hiding what happened the night she lived.

The Silent Companions by Laura Purcell.  A young widow in Victorian England is sent to her husband’s country estate to wait out her pregnancy, and is not alarmed to discover a “silent companion” (a painted wooden figure) in the house.  But when the figure’s eyes begin following her, she is sucked into a history beyond her imagination.

Circe by Madeline Miller.  The story of the woman who would seduce Odysseus, from her beginnings as a plain witch born of Helios and a mother who couldn’t care less.  A classic rise to power story.

CONTEMPORARY LIT

Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows by Balli Kaur Jaswal.  Down on her luck Nikki takes up a job as a creative writing class instructor for the Punjabi widows in her West London neighborhood.  It turns out that the widows thought she was there to teach them to write in English--which leads to the class becoming a place for them to share their stories orally instead.  And it turns out that they’re a bit... erotic.

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones.  Upwardly mobile newlyweds Celestina and Roy have their lives upended when Roy is falsely accused of a terrible crime and sent to prison for twelve years.  When he’s released early after five, he returns home to find that Celestina has changed completely, and their marriage is entirely unknown.

Stay With Me by Ayobami Adebayo.  A young Nigerian couple has always been against polygamy; but after the wife fails to get pregnant, her in-laws show up on their doorstep with a second wife.

NON-FICTION/MEMOIR

Harem: The World Behind The Veil by Alev Lytle Croutier.  An examination of the Ottoman Empire’s harem culture, focusing on the women within.

Love For Sale: A World History of Prostitution by Nils Johan Ringal.  Not really a GLOBAL history of prostitution, but a good introduction starting with ancient times and going into the cases of more recent madams in America, with a strong case for legalization worldwide.

Georgiana: Duchess of Devonshire by Amanda Foreman.  A readable biography of the famously scandalous and tragic duchess, to be read while you kill time rewatching “The Duchess” starring Keira Knightley.

Lucrezia Borgia: Life, Love, and Death in Renaissance Italy by Sarah Bradford.  A fair but none-too-precious assessment of one of Renaissance Italy’s most controversial women, and an analysis of her relationships with her father and brother.

The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn by Eric Ives.  While you’re quarantining, you might as well read the definitive Anne Boleyn biography, yes?  This one is responsible for much of the modern attitude on Anne.

Queen of Fashion: What Marie Antoinette Wore to the Revolution by Caroline Weber.  A fascinating analysis of Marie Antoinette’s political life through her clothes.

The Monster of Florence by Douglas Preston and Mario Spezi.  An analysis of the infamous, unsolved “Monster of Florence” case.  One of the most gruesome serial killers in Italy’s history, the monster’s crimes were pinned on several different men, and even investigated by the prosecutor who botched the Amanda Knox case.

The Forger’s Spell: A True Story of Vermeer, Nazis, and the Greatest Art Hoax of the Twentieth Century by Edward Dolnick.  An examination of the case of Han van Meegeren, a painter who forged and sold many Dutch master fakes, and the pretentious art world that let him get away with it for years.

The Secret History of the Mongol Queens: How the Daughters of Genghis Khan Rescued His Empire by Jack Weatherford.  A study of the women in Genghis Khan’s family, and in particular those that kept his empire from falling to ruin after his death.  A good companion read with Stephanie Thornton’s fiction novel Tiger Queens mentioned above.

Chasing Aphrodite: The Hunt for Looted Antiquities at the World’s Richest Museum by Jason Felch and Ralph Frammolino.  How did the Getty Museum end up with so many stolen artifacts?  This book aims to find out.

The Creation of Anne Boleyn by Susan Bordo.  A different kind of Anne Boleyn book, studying her portrayal in culture and fiction--complete with input from Natalie Dormer following her portrayal of Anne Boleyn on The Tudors.

Blood Sisters: The Women Behind the Wars of the Roses by Sarah Gristwood.  An examination of the women of the houses of Lancaster and York during their famous, long-running conflict--and how these women had an impact on battles and politics alike.

The Dragon Behind the Glass: A True Story of Power, Obsession, and the World’s Most Coveted Fish by Emily Voigt.  The author delves into why people are so obsessed with the arowana, a rare and exotic fish, to the point that they’ll commit murder--and becomes wrapped up in the fascination herself.

The Rules Do Not Apply by Ariel Levy.  Over the course of a month, Ariel Levy watches everything she held true in her life--her financial security, her career, her marriage, and her pregnancy--fall apart.  Levy must confront what it means to live an “unconventional” and “free” life, only for that to become meaningless, and pick up the pieces.

From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to find The Good Death by Caitlin Doughty.  Doughty recounts her global travels to observe and study different funerary and death rituals, recounting and analyzing her experiences with respect and personality.

Lady Killers: Deadly Women Throughout History by Tori Telfer.  A collection of female serial killers, analyzing why they did what they did and the cultural legacy they left behind.

Severed: A History of Heads Lost and Heads Found by Frances Larson.  A history of decapitated human heads, and what different cultures have done with them.

From Scratch: A Memoir of Love, Sicily, and Finding Home by Tembi Locke.  Tembi Locke was never truly accepted by her husband’s Sicilian family, as a black American woman.  But when Saro dies young of cancer, she finds herself more deeply entwined her in-laws, as she works to pick up the pieces.  (Warning: one of the most achingly romantic books I’ve ever read; but it will destroy you.)

[twiceblackvelvet]

twice proposing to their idol gf scenario

A/N; this took me a while because i tried to write a different scenario for each of the girls that i felt fit how i view their personalities. hope you enjoy!

NAYEON

You and Nayeon have been dating for almost a year now. The relationship started out rocky, both of you were unsure if you’d be able to keep the relationship under wraps and away from prying eyes. After all, you both have your careers to think about. Neither of you has ever said it but your number one priority ultimately is your respective groups and neither of you would do anything to jeopardize that out of respect for your members. 

However, Nayeon has come to realize that her days she spends without you around just aren’t the same. You’ve just finished schedules for your latest comeback whilst she is about to begin them for TWICE’s upcoming album. So, she decides now would be the right time to take things to the next level. 

Everything to the finest detail has been planned, breakfast in bed, flowers, a meal at your favorite restaurant finished off with a night together of pure bliss before she’d let the question that has been floating through her mind for weeks slip past her lips. 

But no matter how much effort Nayeon has gone to in order to make sure your entire day is special, the world has other plans. The supposed breakfast in bed ends up burnt and inedible. The flower-shop sent out the wrong order for delivery leaving Nayeon with a bouquet meant for a funeral instead of 100 roses. Your favorite restaurant is fully-booked when you both enter and Nayeon’s frustration is at an all-time high when you wander back to her car and the engine won’t start. 

“This is not how today was supposed to go!” Nayeon hollers up at the darkening sky.

“It’s okay, we can have a date night once you finish up schedules like we always do.” You try to reassure her but the words just fuel her annoyance. 

“No you don’t understand, this was supposed to be special, I planned everything, I even wrote a list! I was going to treat you like a princess, compliment you all evening, kiss your pretty lips until my own were numb then I’d ask you t-“

Nayeon suddenly stops speaking as you stare at her with a puzzled expression. 

“You were going to ask me what?”

Sensing that she won’t get another opportunity like this one for a few weeks, Nayeon says goodbye to her romantic plans and just blurts out the question in the middle of an empty car-park. 

“Will you marry me?”

Your heart does somersaults as you stare into her eyes full of love. Your body throws itself at hers as you shout yes what feels like a thousand times.

JEONGYEON

The decision to follow your dream and become an idol was a difficult one to make. It was made even harder when your company thought it would be best for you to debut as a soloist. Without other people to rely on for support, you struggled internally throughout your entire debut year. Constant worry wracked your entire being until an absolute angel entered your life. 

Despite being surrounded by nine other girls, Jeongyeon related to your issues with loneliness. The pair of you met when you attended one of the groups’ concerts and quickly bonded over your inability to share your concerns with others. You both became each other’s escape in the whirlwind that is idol life and sure enough, a relationship quickly blossomed. 

The other members of TWICE were grateful you came along and into Jeongyeon’s life as nowadays she’s far more confident when speaking to them, doesn’t hold back her feelings and often gives her honest input on things such as their concepts or the sound of their albums. 

Whilst both your companies and her members are aware of your relationship, neither of you are allowed to let it be known to the world. So, when you opened up your Twitter feed to see your name, Jeongyeon’s name and the word engaged trending, confusion and fear took over your entire body. Surely this was some mistake, an intern maybe had posted the wrong names to an article about another idol couple. Anything other than what you’re currently staring at in bold letters. 

Your phone begins to ring and you see it’s your company, probably wondering why the hell this is happening but you don’t even know yourself. Rather than doing the right thing, answering the call and finding a way to fix this, you instead decide to drive to the TWICE dorm to see if Jeongyeon knows what is going on. 

When you arrive, you can see Jihyo pacing by the front doors, she calls out for you as you walked past her but you’re too focused on finding your girlfriend to care or respond. Once inside, you immediately head towards Jeongyeon’s room but Mina who is currently laying on the couch playing video games lets you know she isn’t home. 

“Where is she? When will she be back?”

For someone who has just found out their members dating news has become public knowledge, Mina is strangely calm. 

“A driver picked her up this morning to take her to the company. She’s been gone for a few hours now.”

A few hours? But the news article only just broke twenty minutes ago. Did JYP know beforehand this was going to happen? You wonder why neither she nor anyone else decided to warn you. Before you can let those thoughts overtake your mind, Jeongyeon casually strolls into the dorm with not a care in the world.

“Jeong! What is going on? What did the company say? Are they going to fix this? People aren’t even supposed to know we’re dating, why do they think we’re engaged?”

Confusion mixed with humor is the only way you could describe her face right now as she allows a grin to form. 

“Well, this day hasn’t gone how I expected it to go and you’ve seemingly found out before I could properly ask but I went to the company this morning to tell them I’d like to marry you. They wanted to get ahead of it if you agreed but someone made the article go live way before it was supposed to. Now we’re here. So, do you want to marry me?”

There’s so much information to try and decipher with her words that your brain short circuits for a second and Jeongyeon is suddenly looking a lot more worried. 

“Of course I’ll marry you.” She throws her arms around your neck and presses soft kisses to your temple. “Just please, don’t announce our wedding until after it’s happened, otherwise I might leave you at the altar.” 

MOMO

After a long day of radio shows, interviews, and performances, you’re grateful to return home to your dorm with your members for some well-deserved rest. The intense scheduling for your latest comeback has worn everyone out but especially you as the leader of your group. 

Before entering your bedroom to catch up on some sleep, you check your phone to read some of the reactions to your performance. The majority of them are positive, however, a few are comparing you to members of other girl-groups and how they dance or sing better than you do. One name that comes up a few times, however, makes your heart rate pick up. 

Your fans know you’re close to Momo, the pair of you showing off your “friendship” with cute “friendly” dates and matching outfits. But what they don’t know is that you two have been in a relationship the entire time. The second you met Momo, you fell for her charming personality and undeniable beauty. 

Having read some comments from people saying you should ask Momo for dance lessons, you decide to text your girlfriend for reassurance. You know she will have watched your performance in between her own busy schedule and her opinion is the only one that matters. 

You place your phone down on the dresser after hitting send and as soon as your head hits the pillow your body drifts off to sleep. 

A few hours later you awake to a shuffling noise coming from the living area of the dorm and assume it’s just the other members messing around or watching a film. You pick your phone up to see if Momo has replied and to your surprise, there’s no text or missed calls. Weird. Momo would usually always respond. 

Deciding to leave it for now since you know she’s busy, you scurry off to where there’s now hushed whispers and the slight pattern of feet. One by one your members exits the living area looking at you with wide smiles and glossy eyes. One of them tells you there’s a surprise waiting for you in the front room and your mind can’t help but instantly think they’re up to something they shouldn’t be.

You couldn’t be more wrong as you slowly pushed the door open to see Momo down on one knee with rose petals around her on the floor in the shape of a heart, a ring box open in her hand as she looks up at you.

“After I read your message, I realized that we always run straight to each other whenever even the smallest thing goes wrong or some faceless nobody decides to send us hate. We’re each other’s safety blanket in this harsh world and I never want to lose you. So, will you marry me?”

Face full of delight and overwhelming happiness, you leap into her arms almost toppling both of you over as you press a harsh kiss to her lips to make sure all of this is really happening. All you need is Momo and all she needs is you.

SANA

Hiding your relationship with Sana has never been a problem. The pair of you interact like any other two idols would, politely, with respect and as friendly as possible. However, fans of both of you have begun to take notice of the little interactions during music shows or the awards season which has begun a trend of the two of you being shipped together. 

Your company and JYP became aware of this trend and decided to put the pair of you on a talk-show together to appease the fan interest by letting them see the two of you interact. 

Whilst Sana found no issue with it, you did. Sana is a naturally flirtatious person, hell, you ended up dating her because she just walked up to you one day backstage at Inkigayo and told you she’d be taking you on a date on your next free day no questions asked. So, sitting next to her for several hours whilst she no doubt flirts with you, it’ll be tough for you not to react how you usually would, like a lovesick puppy. 

The first half of the show runs smoothly, the hosts discuss how the two of you became “friends” if it’s difficult to keep up with each other when you’re both so busy and what it’s like to connect with a fellow idol. 

But then, the topic of relationships suddenly appears. You being the true professional that you are, answer that you aren’t really interested in dating right now as your group is your priority and you give a description of what your ideal type would be, which you purposefully make the complete opposite of Sana to try and cool off the people pairing you two together romantically. 

Sana has other ideas. When asked if she’s interested in dating she answers positively and said that she’s more than interested and that she’s even considering marriage. Not only are you stunned by her answer, but the hosts are utterly amazed too because as far as the public knows, she’s a single woman. When asked if she’s in a relationship to even become engaged she changes her tune and simply states marriage is something she has always been interested in since she was a little girl. 

Other than that minor hitch, the rest of the show flies by with both of you showing off what the hosts call their favorite idol friendship. Once backstage, you quickly pull Sana into the first room you can find which ends up being a cleaning closet. 

“What the hell were you playing at with all that marriage talk? You almost gave me a heart attack!”

A wide grin that almost makes Sana’s eyes turn into crescents takes over her face as she reaches for your hands. 

“They asked me a question, I gave an honest answer. I’ve been thinking about asking you for a long time now, this just happened to speed the process up a little bit.” Your face forms into pure shock at her words but the killer blow has yet to be delivered. “So, what do you say, wife?”

And just like your first meeting where Sana didn’t give you a choice in dating her, your heart won’t give you a choice to say anything other than yes.

JIHYO

Meeting your girlfriend’s family is a task you’ve been putting off for as long as possible. You even moved forward your latest comeback to get out of their last trip together. However, you can sense now that Jihyo is beginning to grow frustrated over your avoidance, so here you are, dressed elegantly and wearing your brightest smile possible.

It’s easy for you to put on a mask for the outside world but Jihyo has always been able to see through your masquerade, which explains why she’s gripping your hand as tightly as possible outside of her family home in an attempt to reassure you that her family will love you just as much as she does. And she’s right. The day passes by full of laughter, her parents pulling out various photo albums to embarrass her and even helping her mother with making dinner. 

You can’t help but feel like you’ve been a massive idiot for trying to get out of every date Jihyo has previously planned for you to meet her family. It’s impossible for you to feel more welcomed.

As the day quickly turns to night, the pair of you bid farewell to her family and decide to slowly stroll back to your dorm together. The night air is cool and you think it’s impossible for this day to be any more perfect, and yet, Jihyo’s mind is filled with how exactly she wants to make it greater than it already is.

“You know, I was scared when you kept putting off meeting my family. I couldn’t help but think that you didn’t feel the same way about me as I do about you. I didn’t want to lose you so I kept trying but I decided that if you backed out of today I was going to confront you about it.” Her words are soft and hold no malice but you’re instantly filled with regret. “I had to keep telling them you were just busy with your album or fansigns but they were becoming suspicious too.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in that position, I just…” The words get lost in your throat as you try to justify the dilemma you’ve placed her in. 

“No, please, let me just speak. I know now that you were just scared. I’ve always spoken about my family and how important they are to me. I could see you were nervous when we first walked through the door and I realized I may have put a lot of pressure on your shoulders, so I’m sorry too.”

You wrap Jihyo up into a hug and hope the action alone tells her that she has nothing to apologize for but that you’re grateful she understands why you were hesitant.

“I’ve also had a bit of an ulterior motive with pushing for you to meet them, though.” She suddenly stops walking to look into your eyes as she speaks. “My parents, they’ve supported me through every decision in life. When I wanted to become a trainee, they were my biggest supporters, when I finally debuted after so long, they were there to cheer me on. Their opinions mean more to me than I can even begin to explain.”

“Is this your way of telling me they didn’t like me and that we have to break up?” She laughs loudly at your question and her eyes begin to brim with tears.

“No, in fact, it’s quite the opposite. I wanted them to meet you before I did this.”

Jihyo pulls out a small box from her jacket pocket and begins to kneel down in the middle of a random street with only the stars as witnesses to what is by far the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

“Will you marry me?”

At that moment, you know you’re not only saying yes to the one person in the world you love more than anything but also to become a part of her family.

MINA

Being an idol is a double-edged sword. There are many positives to the position such as meeting incredible fans around the world, living out your dream of performing or traveling to various countries you otherwise wouldn’t dream of being able to visit. 

But there’s a lot of pressure placed on the shoulders of an idol that people don’t realize. The constant feeling of being watched, the sometimes excruciating demands from companies on both your body and mind. It all adds up to be a stressful job. 

You’ve learned this the hard way when your girlfriend Mina began to suffer from severe anxiety and stage-fright. You begged and pleaded with your management to put a halt to your schedules so you could be by her side, however, they refused deeming it too risky. 

So, you trudge along to various shows, trying your hardest every day to put on a happy front but it’s simply not possible. You want to be able to join in with your members discussing all the fun things you have planned for the future, but your mind always floats back to Mina. Mina who is without you. Mina who is suffering. 

After a few weeks of poor performances and negative reactions to your appearances on variety shows, comments calling you dull and lifeless. Your company finally agrees to let you sit out of promotions. You shouldn’t be happy about this, but Mina is more important to you. 

Without thinking, you book a flight to Japan and once landed head straight for Mina’s family home. In all of your rash decision making, you didn’t even consider texting or calling to say you’d be showing up at her front door, however, when she opens it and sees you, the gummy smile that appears on her own makes it all worth it. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were busy with schedules for the next month.”

You don’t take offense to her first words sounding cold, instead, you wrap her in a tight hug and refuse to let go. She drags you inside the house with your arms still firmly attached around her body but worms her way out once you reach the living area. 

“I couldn’t do it, Mina. Every time I was being asked a question, I was thinking about you. I couldn’t get the choreography right because I was too busy worrying about you taking care of yourself. I even stopped speaking to the members out of fear I was just constantly putting my worries about you onto them. I love you, Mina. I need to be with you.”

A slow tear rolls down Mina’s face once you finish speaking. You’ve never said those three words to her before and you’re worried it’s scared her off. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. It’s okay if you aren’t ready or don’t feel the same way. I still want to be here to-“

Your words are cut off with a rough kiss and suddenly all of your fears are washed away. As Mina pulls away her eyes search deeply into your own before she softly speaks. 

“I do feel the same way. In fact, you being here and leaving behind your own commitments, which is stupid by the way, don’t do that in future, just shows me how far you’re willing to go for me. For us. I don’t have anything to give to you to make this real, but I promise you I will soon if you say yes.”

Mina’s entire body shakes with excitement against your own and you relish in seeing her happy once more.

“Say yes to what?”

“To be the person I spend the rest of my life with. To allow me to marry you.”

You now have one more reason to be grateful for your hectic, whirlwind life within the idol industry, it brought you the most perfect human being to ever live in the shape of your new fiancé, Myoui Mina. 

DAHYUN

Dahyun is the perfect mixture of funny yet serious. On days when you’re exhausted from hours of learning new choreography, there’s no better pick-me-up than listening to her ridiculous jokes or watching her try out that same dance routine you’re struggling with in her own special way. Or, when you’re in need of someone to tell you that all of your efforts are worth it, she’s right there beside you to reassure you. 

For your anniversary tonight, you’ve decided to propose to the only person capable of keeping you sane in the hectic world you’ve both decided to become pawns in. What you didn’t realize is that Dahyun has the exact same idea as you. 

So, here you are, dining out at the most exclusive restaurant in town, there are drinks flowing between you both as the romantic setting only intensifies the overwhelming feeling of serenity between you both. As much as you love the rush of hearing fans chant along to your songs, no feeling will ever compare to the peacefulness that you get from being around Dahyun. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt more in love with you than at this moment.” The words leave your mouth naturally and without thought. The smile that spreads across your girlfriend’s face is blinding and you can’t help but wish that you’re able to see that sight every day. 

“Me too. Nothing makes me happier than being with you.”

A comfortable silence falls upon you both as you stare deeply into Dahyun’s eyes for any hint that what you’re about to do is a bad idea. All you can is pure love looking back at you. You slowly reach around to your bag hanging from your seat in order to retrieve the ring you purchased after a day of shopping with two of your members. They helped you pick out something perfect yet simple knowing that Dahyun isn’t interested in anything too flash.

Before you can present the box to her and let the ultimate question free from your throat, Dahyun has risen from her seat to kneel beside your own. She intertwines your fingers with her own before exhaling deeply.

“I know that today is a special day for both of us. This time last year we agreed to put aside all of the things that could potentially go wrong if we dated aside and slowly began to explore this world of pure happiness and devotion to each other. I can’t imagine my days without you now, nor do I ever wish to experience it. I realized recently just how much you’ve filled my world full of love and I’d like to give you a little of that back.” A small box suddenly appears before you in her free hand and you can’t help but chuckle softly. “I want to marry you and I want us to always be in love with one another. What do you think?”

Rather than answer her question, you pull out your own ring and place it onto her wedding finger with ease, grateful that Nayeon gave you the correct ring size and seemingly kept your secret. 

The tears between you both don’t stop flowing for quite some time, but unlike before you met Dahyun, these ones are filled with pure joy.

CHAEYOUNG

Dating Chaeyoung is confusing. Whilst you’d never change your girlfriend for anything else in the world. The unexpected and random dates she plans for the two of you will always be surprising. 

Your first date was spent in an art museum where Chaeyoung tried her best to name the various artists without looking at the little plaques underneath the paintings. 

Your second date, though you don’t actually consider it a real one, was her sitting backstage at one of your groups’ concerts and cheering like a wild hyena whenever it’d be your turn to sing. She calls it a date because apparently watching you perform is way too special not to be. 

You’ve been to open-mic poem nights where Chaeyoung decided to recite a love poem she’d written for you at 2 AM one night. You’ve visited animal shelters to play with cute cats. However, your favorite date is by far when you finally met her parents. The pair of you were both incredibly nervous, but they were more than accepting and you’ve been part of the family ever since. 

Recently, Chaeyoung had invited you round to her family home to tell you of her plans to hold an art exhibit where she’d invite you and your group, the other members of TWICE and hold an art competition for fans to attend. 

Creativity has always been her strong suit and it’s by far one of her most attractive traits in your eyes. So, when she asks you if you’d be willing to model for a painting, you couldn’t possibly deny her the chance to bring her secret muse to life on canvas. 

The hours of posing in the same position somehow managed to go by quickly as you both joked, listened to music and discussed the concepts both your companies had planned for your groups. Once the painting was finished, Chaeyoung refused to let you see it and simply told you to wait until the unveiling at the exhibit.

Two weeks later and you’d managed to let the art-work Chae had created of you slip from your mind. You’ve been overwhelmingly busy trying to remember lyrics to a new song as well as the scripted description you have to introduce it with. 

The exhibit is a success and some fans’ pieces from the competition even line the walls beside the art created by your girlfriend, however, there’s one canvas with a veil draping over it at the back of the room that has yet to be revealed. 

As the event comes to a close and people begin to leave, you’re about to do the same with the two members of your group who were able to tag along when Chaeyoung pulls you back inside and ushers them on to the restaurant her own members have disappeared to. 

“Come on, there’s still one more piece I have to show you.”

She drags you across the room to the still covered painting and stands beside it proudly. 

“This one is for your eyes only.”

As she pulls the veil down, you’re instantly blown away by how well Chaeyoung has managed to capture all of your finer details. Whilst you’re unsure if your eyes have ever truly sparkled like how she’s portrayed them, something else shiny catches your eye. 

On the left hand of the painted version of you, there’s a ring placed on your wedding finger. For some reason, in your amazement, you look down at your own hand to see only skin. However, when your eyes raise, Chaeyoung is stood before you holding out a ring box with the exact same piece of jewelry she’s captured in her art. 

“I know I don’t always express myself with words but I hope showing you this makes up for what I struggle to say. I’d like to make you the happiest person alive if you’ll let me.”

And let her you do, because as confusing as Chaeyoung can be, this is something you’re both sure on. 

TZUYU

Trying to maintain a relationship with a fellow idol should come with an instruction manual. No one talks about how little time the two of you will spend together, or how one of you may be in an entirely different time-zone making even a simple phone call impossible. 

It’s been two weeks now since you last spoke to Tzuyu via anything other than text. You’re currently overseas for promotions in America, whilst she’s busy completing the last leg of TWICE’s tour in Japan. You’ve tried your best to FaceTime her or even just call but the timing is yet to work in your favor. As you’re sitting backstage before an interview, you decide to try once more in hopes that she just so happens to be free.

To your surprise, the FaceTime request is accepted and sure enough, looking back at you through the screen is your effortlessly beautiful girlfriend. She looks rather disheveled as sweat laces her forehead and you can see the managers scurrying behind her. They must have just finished their concert you think. 

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up. I’ve missed you so much, it’s so good to see you.” You speak first as you can see that the emotion from her finally seeing your face after so long has already caused tears to sink from her eyes. “Please don’t cry, you’re going to make me start and I’ve only just got out of hair and make-up.” Your stupid joke makes her laugh and she’s finally able to speak.

“Sorry, I just… I’ve missed you so much. I kept seeing all of your missed calls and I felt awful. Every time I went to call you back it was way too late for you to still be awake and I know how exhausted you already are.” 

The overwhelming high of performing and now getting to speak to you has Tzuyu feeling on top of the world and her thoughts are flying at a mile a minute. 

“It’s okay, we’re here now. Plus, once I’m back home and you’re finished with the tour we’ll have plenty of time together to make up for it.” 

You aren’t even sure you believe your own words, however, they spur something inside of Tzuyu that she probably would not have blurted out under different circumstances.

“How about the rest of our lives?” She’s speaking incredibly fast so much so that you almost miss what she said.

“Yeah, sure.” You answer with a laugh, however, her face is entirely serious now.

“No, I mean it. You should marry me and then we can be together forever.” A silence falls between you both as you take in her proposal, unsure if she’s truly thought it through. “I can tell you think I don’t mean it but I do. I want to spend every single day possible with you if you’ll have me.”

So, when people in the future ask how you received a proposal from the love of your life, you’ll explain that absence does, in fact, make the heart grow fonder, sometimes it even causes you to become engaged.

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Half Of You: Jimin One Shot

Request: fluff: Friend group travelling (wherever inspires you most! I'm thinking someplace like Hawai where they visit secret beaches and stuff! Site-seeing in the city could also be interesting!). Jimin and and OC know eachother through friends. OC is independent and not TOO into the whole adventuring deal but does it to enjoy some quality time with her friends. Jimin is flirty and playful and makes the trip all the more interesting for her. (I don't know how you want to set it up but maybe two friends are dating and they invite their two seperate friend groups on this trip to meet. Or maybe it's a wedding and OC is a bridesmaid? Anything works honestly!) - @silviasgotyourback

Description: You’re not too keen on...you know...risk-taking. In fact, it scares you to your core. But when your close friend Kim Namjoon gets in your head, you agree to a crazy trip to Fiji with him and his pals. But what happens when one of those pals -- specifically Park Jimin -- sweeps you off your feet not only figuratively, but literally?

Word Count: 15.8k

Pairing: Jimin x (gender neutral) Reader

Tags: Office Worker!Reader, Choreographer!Jungkook, Producer!Namjoon, Non-Idol!Au, Kinda Enemies to Lovers?? Haha idk

Genre: Fluff and angst, fluffy ending

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Wow what a long break I’ve taken haha! But I’m back (kinda) to post some one shots (slowly)! I’ve been working really hard on my graduate school writing sample and auto statements, and I’ve just started my senior year of college AND started a new job so I’ve been incredibly busy! I apologize nonetheless for my absence. It’s felt horrible being away. Very guilty lol. Anyway, thank you my dear for requesting and for being so so so SO patient with me. I hope you like the result!

Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/nirvana_namu. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances.

- Mercury

You’re not sure why you agreed to this.

Standing at the tippy top of a mountain, looking out over the entire surf as it roils in the golden island sun, you watch your best friend get strapped into a harness with a laugh that echoes through the humid air. His gaze is focused downward, along the slope of treetops leading to the water. A zipline. A really steep, really fast one. One of the longest in the world! Namjoon had proclaimed with no small measure of wonder in his round eyes before you’d boarded the plane side by side only a day prior. If you weren’t so scared, you’d want to paint it.

You really don’t know why you agreed to do any of this.

The vested employee adjusts the straps secured around Namjoon’s hips, tugs them once or twice — not nearly enough by your standards — and mumbles something unintelligible into the receiver of a walkie-talkie. Enveloped in greenery, Namjoon pauses to turn and look at you and, upon snagging your eyes, offers a big, stupid, dimpled grin. He waves one hand over his head at you as you wait to be loaded into the next harness. And it looks like his eyes are squinted against the sun, but really they’re squinted from the sheer force of his joy. A joy too big to be contained in a smile alone.

That’s exactly why, you think to yourself with a grimace as you shamble forward along the worn footpath, second-to-last in line, arms crossed over your torso as if they can protect you from whatever fresh hell Namjoon’s planned out.

The employee pats Namjoon’s bare shoulder before releasing him and sending him speeding down the swaying cable with a scream so loud it pierces your ears. His body falls out of sight for a frozen millisecond before the cable gives a mighty bounce and his head reappears, bobbing up and down as he slides toward the bottom. You wince, more out of fear than discomfort, and pause to peek over the edge of the loading platform, following the line of the cable all the way to the bottom. Your heart races as your eyes trace the dense tree line, seemingly endless, and the sheer drop that had claimed Namjoon just seconds before.

And that’s when, as you sweep your twitching gaze out behind you, you lock eyes with Park Jimin. Standing behind you, the very last of the group to depart down the cliffside, his lips are quirked into a smirk that reads cocky and his brows are raised, unyielding eyes stuck on you like tree sap. Of all people to be stuck with on the top of a mountain…

Your face goes hot and your spine stiffens by a few degrees. You stare back at him, trying to discern any measure of fear in his smiling expression, his half-exposed teeth, his rosy cheeks, his teasing brown eyes. But instead all you see is, as usual, a perfect facade of composure.

Well, that and a sinfully handsome face.

He saunters up beside you, scans you from head to toe, and hums a little. “Nervous?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

You clear your throat, fan yourself with your hand as a futile defense against the jungle heat, and nod your head once. “Mm.”

Upon hearing your response, Jimin’s demeanor shifts a little. He uncrosses his arms and his smirk slips, brows raising. He leans closer to examine your face and you avert your gaze, heart hammering. “Whoa, you’re actually spooked, huh,” he remarks before glancing around the platform. “Shit, I don’t think the guide’s gonna let you turn back now.”

You’d expected him to make fun of you, perhaps laugh at your weak constitution. But this…

This is new.

Though well-meaning, Jimin’s words serve only to set your palms sweating and your heart racing faster. Your throat feels a little funny, tight like asthma. You shift your weight from foot to foot. “I-It’s fine,” you mumble, sliding past him as the employee beckons you forward with a lazy wave. “I’ll just…do it.”

Jimin hangs close behind you as the employee begins strapping you in, not sparing even a single word for you. “Hey, uh, my friend’s a little nervous,” Jimin says lowly to the young man working on hooking the harness around your hip. He glances up to meet your eyes before looking toward Jimin. “Any way you can, like, go gentle or something?” Jimin offers a convincing smile, the kind of grin that could get anyone to do anything.

The employee surprises you by releasing a puffy laugh and straightening to his full height, pausing to pat the dust off the backs of his legs. He chuckles and pats your back. “I can’t control the cable,” he says, then pauses for a moment to think. “But…,” he continues as Jimin turns pleading eyes his way, “if you’re feeling really nervous, I’ve heard it helps to shut your eyes and count to ten. Like, tell yourself you’re definitely gonna do it once you reach ten and just…go.”

You swallow hard and inhale sharply through your nose. “Alright,” you say, but his words have fled from your brain as soon as they’d been uttered. Your voice is shaky. Almost as shaky as your hands as you raise them to grip the straps of your harness.

Have you always had such a strong grip?

Your brain goes a little fuzzy, looking out over the precipice on which you stand, unsteady feet and rushing pulse. It’s dizzying. Like the world is spinning, but you’re not spinning with it. Or perhaps you’re spinning and it’s the world that’s gone still. Either way, the stretch of trees extending far beyond the tips of your hiking boots looks like it’s swaying on an axis, and each blink tilts the view some different way. You wonder if you’re breathing enough, or maybe too much, because your head is spinning. Like when you stand up too quickly after sitting for a while. You wonder if you’ll pass out before you reach the bottom.

If you reach the bottom.

Jesus, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of this stupid cable snapping. It doesn’t look too stable, upon closer inspection. Bouncing in the breeze. And as the employee finishes strapping you in, you pause for a moment to move your legs about and find, to your horror, that the straps are slightly loose.

Oh God.

You’re gonna throw up.

“Hey,” says a soft voice from beside you.

You feel a warm hand slide along the skin of your upper back, resting to cup your shoulder. Slowly, you turn your toward Jimin, standing with one arm wrapped around you and the other braced on his own knee so he can level his eyes with yours. He’s smiling a little. A different one this time, a soft one. The wind blows his dark hair from his eyes and carries the scent of his cologne. Somehow, you feel yourself relax a little against his side.

“It’s gonna be okay, alright?” he asks gently, and this is an entirely new Park Jimin to you. A tender young man with kind eyes. He smiles again and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m right behind you.”

And for some reason, that comforts you. You don’t have time to dissect it however, as the employee takes up your other side and raises his brows, asking silently if you’re ready to go. Of course, you aren’t. How can you be? But again, Jimin squeezes your shoulder and seizes your attention with another smile, this one turning his eyes to crescents as he nods his head.

“Um…yeah,” you say, taking a moment to focus on your breath.

“Remember,” says Jimin as he steps away from you. “Count to ten, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, shutting your eyes.

One.

You’re gonna do it.

Two.

On ten, you’re just gonna go.

Three.

It’ll be fine.

Four.

Joon did it, and he’s fine.

Five.

And Tae before him, and that guy Jimin brought.

Six.

Nobody’s died yet.

Seven.

You can do it too.

Eight.

And even if I’m scared, at least you’re not alone up here.

Nine.

Jimin’s right behind you.

Ten.

Your scream rips through the valley below.

And, seconds later, so does your unfettered laughter.

You met Park Jimin on the worst day of your life a month ago. Freshly laid off from your job as a financial analyst — a job which Namjoon disliked from the start —, and disappointed by a string of bad dates after a catastrophic breakup, you’d agreed to meet up with a few college friends for a drink at your local stomping ground. You’d found Jimin sitting in the middle of a smoky bar with a girl on one arm and a guy on the other. Gross, was all you’d thought in passing. You’d paid him little mind, too busy wallowing in your own self pity to think too hard about any one thing, but it seemed he was incessant on grabbing your attention by any means necessary.

You’d sidled up to the bar, awaiting Namjoon’s I’m here text, and had only just ordered your drink when the strange young man with the unusually bright smile took up the space beside you. Now alone, he offered you a grin and his hand for you to shake. For a few seconds, you only stared at his outstretched palm. At the lines cutting across it. What was that long line called? The life line?

Eventually, however, you realized he wasn’t going anywhere, planted firmly in the wobbly barstool to your right, and you relented with a handshake. But that wasn’t what this stranger was after. He yanked you just a little once your hands connected.

“Hey, honey!” he said as he pulled you in toward his chest, sweeping you up in a tight, firm hug that knocked the wind from your lungs.

You were neither playful enough nor drunk enough to reciprocate and instead sat there stiffly, arms pressed against your sides as the stranger with the cute face hugged you close. Over his shoulder, you locked eyes with the girl who’d previously ornamented his left arm, watching you keenly, and it didn’t take you long to understand what was going on.

“Dodging an ex?” you whispered without moving your lips too much.

You felt a wave of shivers trace up your spine and it only took you a few seconds to realize why. It was just the sort of thing you imagined Hanseul doing if he ever bumped into you…

He chuckled. “Two, actually,” he responded as the young man he’d been entertaining also lifted his eyes from his drink to give you a once-over.

You sighed. “You’d better be buying my drink,” was all you said as the two of you broke away.

He’d laughed — that melodic sort of laugh that made you feel a little floaty — and rubbed your shoulder with a grin. “I’ll buy you twenty,” he joked, sliding the bartender a bill as he returned with your cocktail.

“So how’d you manage to get caught up with two exes at once?” you asked, nursing your glass.

He rubbed his jaw and shook his head, smiling at the bar table before him. “They were friends to begin with,” he said. And when you said nothing, only recoiled slightly, he met your eyes with a bright laugh. “C’mon don’t give me that look!”

You cleared your throat, turned away, and worked your straw between your teeth. “I dunno, sounds like maybe you brought it on yourself then,” you said, taking a healthy sip.

The stranger laughed again — more like a disbelieving scoff — and adjusted one of the several rings on his slender fingers. “Well I didn’t ask the two of them to come out tonight,” he said with a shrug. “And besides, neither of them looked unhappy to see me.”

“Ugh,” you mumbled, eyeing him sidelong as he chuckled.

He smirked and leaned across the bar toward you. “What?” he asked, and something about the heavy-lidded look he gave you, the simmering something in his eyes, made your pulse quicken. He rested his cheek in his hand and cocked his head to the side, now close enough to smell a whiff of his cologne. “You think I’m a bad guy?”

You swallowed hard before downing the rest of your drink and slamming the glass back on the bar. You waved the bartender over and pointed to the empty glass. Wordlessly, he began fixing you a replacement. You peeked back at the guy to find him smiling at you, musing perhaps, with the strangest mix of curiosity and pity in his expression.

You were definitely going to need another drink.

“Do good guys usually do stuff like that?” you asked, watching the bartender as he shook your drink around his metal tumbler.

He chuckled. “Can goodness be quantified by things like who we date?” he asked.

You stiffened. “Not by who you date,” you continued, shaking your head as memories of your own ex resurfaced. “But who you hurt, sure.”

He rolled his eyes, swiveling in his barstool to look at you head on. “Why’s it my fault who gets hurt?” he asked.

You cocked a brow. “You…can’t be serious…” But from the expression he wore you were certain that he was indeed quite serious.

He shrugged. “It’s not my intention to hurt someone, so why do I have to take responsibility if they get hurt?” he asked, then smirked and gave your thigh a nudge with his knee. “The way I see it, if you get hurt you’re the one whose expectations were too high.”

“That’s gross,” you said, inching away. You were inclined to simply leave, abandon this conversation and the bar at large and call it a night. But the bartender wasn’t finished with your drink and you weren’t about to piss him off. Not on a day like today. “If you’re dating someone, you’re committing to them.”

“What about polyamorous people?” he countered with a smug grin.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not talking about polyamorous people. I’m talking about monogamy.”

“But why does everyone expect monogamy?” asked Jimin, tossing his hands up in the air with a breathy laugh. “Anyway, I always make it clear from the start that I’m not the kind of person who wants to be…well, you know…,” he started, then furrowed his brow and waved his hand. “Like, in a relationship.”

You sighed, nodded your thanks to the bartender as he slid you your drink, and watched as Jimin again offered cash in return. “And that’s fine, but you can’t expect someone to stick around and be okay with that.” You rubbed your temples as memories swirled together. “Be okay with half of you.”

If you really loved me, you’d understand that I could have any person in the world and you’d still be my number one!

Scumbag.

This gave him pause and, slowly, he shifted his eyes your way once more, scanning you. “Half of me?”

You nodded and downed a gulp of your drink with a wince. “Giving half is fine if the other person is giving half too. If you both only expect half,” you began, then ran your hands along your neck. Your skin was feverish, alcohol making your head light. “But if one person wants more, it’s not fair to string them along.”

He stared at you gravely, eyes hard and jaw set, and furrowed his brow. “That’s too old-school,” he said.

You huffed and crossed your arms. “It’s not old-school!” you said, wagging a finger at him. “It’s about respecting the other person enough to let them go when you realize you can’t be what they need.”

He pouted a little and rolled his eyes. “You sound ancient,” he said, then paused to give you a knowing smirk. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he began, scooting closer with a conspiratorial look. “You were scorned by your ex. Like…I dunno, like they cheated or something. Broke your heart, ruined your trust, blah, blah, blah. And now you’ve got this vendetta or something because you got hurt.” He grinned and wiggled his brows.

You stiffened, eyes wide, and stared at him. “I…,” you began.

He laughed from his gut and nodded. “Ah, nailed it, didn’t I?” he asked.

There was a cruel edge to his teasing, an ill-intentioned bite that felt like it was made to injure. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but you knew you felt it in that hazy bar, surrounded by throngs of people gathered here and there, enveloped in smoke and conversation. But like a heat-seeking missile, it seemed his words were engineered to uncover the softest parts of you and destroy them.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but your eyes welled with tears and your throat constricted. You stared at him, this stranger who had pegged you without err, and felt the weight of your frustrations pressing down on the tops of your shoulders like sandbags. And as he perceived the shift in your expression, his own face changed from a cold sort of scrutiny to a round-eyed concern that washed away all evidence of his previous behavior.

“Oh shit,” he said, standing up and blocking your face from view. You felt a few hot tears spilling over and were quick to wipe them, but the humiliation was there on display whether you cried or not.

He’d gotten you.

Luckily for you, Namjoon’s timing had been particularly impeccable that day and he’d barreled into the bar with a lopsided grin and clapped both you and the stranger on the backs, Taehyung and Yoongi sauntering behind him. You’d startled a bit, jumping slightly at his approach, but once again luckily — or perhaps unluckily — Namjoon seemed to have little regard for the poor mood he’d stepped into and didn’t seem to notice your glassy eyes as you buried your nose in your drink.

“Well jeez, look at you two already getting acquainted!” Namjoon exclaimed with a big laugh.

You paused your sipping for a moment to slide only your eyes up toward your friend. “Huh?”

He blinked down at you, one hand still clamped onto the stranger’s shoulder, and raised his brows. “Didn’t I tell you I was inviting some work friends?”

You spat your drink, sending droplets of sweet alcohol splattering across the bar. Quick to right yourself, you faced Namjoon properly and, sputtering, replied, “Him?”

Namjoon laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t introduce yourselves,” he said, adding theatrics to his heavy sigh. “This is Park Jimin. That choreographer I’ve been telling you about? He’s coming with us to Fiji.”

Still coughing up the remains of your rum and Coke, you pat your chest. This was the kind-hearted dance major wunderkind who dazzled everyone at Namjoon’s entertainment company? This was the kid who, at the age of twenty-four, had more accolades than both his predecessors combined? This was the guy who befriended all the trainees and brought them sports drinks during long days of practice?

This was the guy you were going to spend two weeks with on an island in the middle of the Pacific?

Namjoon, standing between the two of you, moved to taste your drink and as he leaned forward you locked eyes with the acclaimed young choreographer over the plane of his back. Park Jimin stared at you with wide eyes and lips parted as if to speak. But even after Namjoon had straightened up and begun complaining about your drink order, Park Jimin, still with mouth agape, said nothing.

And so, as you go ripping through the jungle on a wobbling cable, screaming and laughing and crying just a little, you wonder how exactly that very same Park Jimin is the one who comforted you into taking this leap of faith. Below your dangling feet is a patchwork of different greens, all bleeding into a motion blur as your body is propelled down toward the bottom platform. As you slide along, you can just see Namjoon’s figure, reduced to a small silhouette amongst the trees, as he stands waving like mad at the edge of the platform. Laughing, you shoot both hands above your head and wave them around, causing you to sway on the cable. Startled, you quickly return your hands to gripping the straps near your chest.

You feel like a bullet whizzing through humid air and then, all at once, friction takes hold once more and you seize, eyes squeezing shut from the whiplash, head throbbing just a little, suspended over the platform. You are greeted by a chorus of applause and hollers of encouragement as the employee begins the process of disconnecting you from your harness and, as your feet land stiffly on the concrete slab, you lift wild eyes to meet Namjoon’s. You find him still with that grin plastered across his face, hair windswept, shirt askew.

“Wow!” is all you can say as the group laughs.

Namjoon smiles and claps your shoulder. “Right?” he asks and you can only nod and turn your eyes back up toward the cliff from which you’d descended.

Now far too distant to discern amongst the foliage, the loading platform sits somewhere lost in green. And, without meaning to, your mind wanders back to Park Jimin and you wonder idly if he’s counting to ten.

Sunset drenches the island as you lounge on the warm sand, leaning back on your elbows with eyes half-shut as you gaze out at the glittering ocean touching the horizon line. The sky is darkening by degrees, with vibrant reds and oranges spreading like watercolor into the navy blue edges. And for a blissful moment, you’re alone with it. Alone with the profound. And you’re not thinking about the new job you’d taken, or the text messages Hanseul left you this morning, or the bills you know you’ve got to pay soon. You’re not thinking about anything.

It’s beautiful.

Of course, it’d be more beautiful with a pina colada, but you don’t let your mind linger there too long. After all, Namjoon said this trip was supposed to be about adventure and ‘finding yourself’. You aren’t sure how much of yourself you can really find at the bottom of a fruity drink.

Namjoon invited you on this trip a year ago. He’d done it in typical Namjoon fashion: calling you up at two in the morning and rambling incoherently for a while before eventually getting to the point. You’d become so used to his pipe dreams that you’d half expected this plan to fall through like the others. The second the words left his lips, you’d rolled your eyes.

“What I’m saying is,” he began, breathless over the phone, as you push yourself up onto your bottom, bed sinking beneath you, “let’s go to Fiji.”

“Joon…,” you groaned. “Please, I have work tomorrow-,”

“Listen, fuck your job,” he said and you could practically see him waving his hands like a man gone mad. “This is important. Like…might be the most important thing we’ve ever done together, you know?”

“Where is this even coming from?” you asked, stifling a yawn. You glanced out your window and saw the city painted black, pinpricks of yellow office building lights.

He sighed. “I was looking up tropical music for this new song I’m working on for the trainees and I stumbled upon this incredible video about Fiji.”

“Like a generic white girl vlog?” you asked with a laugh, but Namjoon seemed deathly serious as he remained silent. You paused a moment. “Wait, you’re like…for real with this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, of course.” He was quiet. “I just…I dunno…I guess, while we’re still young enough to do it, I wanna experience something incredible. While we still can. While things are still like this.”

“What do you mean?” You raised a hand to open your window, let in some cool night air, but as you jammed your hand along the pane, the thing only rattled dumbly in response. You huffed, focused.

“I mean life is transient and nothing’s guaranteed,” he said. “Who knows who we’ll be tomorrow, you know? Who knows how long these moments will last?”

You stilled for a moment, staring out your closed window, hand still poised to force it open. You glanced over your shoulder at your tiny apartment — clothes strewn over every piece of furniture, easel gathering dust in the corner of your living room, unused for the better part of a year, paintings still unhung propped against walls on the floor — and couldn’t help but sigh. As silver moonlight filtered in through your curtains, you felt an unfamiliar tug in your chest. A longing that didn’t make sense.

You had the job, the boyfriend, the social life…

You had it all.

But why did Namjoon’s words make you feel so hollow?

And before you even realized what you were doing, you replied, “How much is it gonna cost?”

“What’re you thinking about?” asks a soft voice from beside you.

Startled, you scramble slightly, sending a spray of sand flying through the air. You sputter a little, having inhaled too quickly for your lungs to handle, and squint against the golden sun. But as you settle enough to face the person beside you, you’re surprised to see it’s Jimin. Sunset drenches the expanse of shoreline, catches in the ends of his black hair, outlines the side of his rosy cheek as he gives you an easy smile.

You raise your brows. “Hm?”

He chuckles, rubs the back of his neck, and shrugs as he digs the heels of his hands into the sand, leans back on them. “Just...looked pensive.”

“Pensive…,” you repeat, mulling it over. You purse your lips. “I guess just...thinking about this trip.”

“What about it?”

“Just...why I even bothered coming,” you begin, then chuckled and eyed him sidelong. “You saw how I was today. The whole...adventure thing isn’t really my scene.”

He smiles, revealing on closer inspection one charming crooked tooth, and tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean? You looked like you were having the time of your life!” he says, nudging you with his elbow.

You smile at your knees, now pulled toward your chest, and sigh. “Thanks for saying that, but you know I was a mess.”

He pouts a little. “You weren’t.”

Glancing his way, you find him with furrowed brows staring distantly at the ocean. “Mm…,” you mumble in response.

He sighs. “You were scared,” he begins, then shrugs. “But you did it anyway. What’s so bad about that?”

You sense that he’s perhaps talking about something else while talking about you. Like he’s saying two things at once. But you don’t bother prying. Instead, you simply sigh and join him staring at the surf.

“It’s beautiful, huh?” you remark as the two of you sit side by side. And there’s a gentle sort of quiet between you, one you never expected to share with someone like Jimin.

But somehow, here he is. And looking at him as he watches the waves splash forward and recede, you can’t help but feel a little guilty for your attitude towards him. Guilty for the dread you’d felt as you boarded the plane behind him. Guilty for the scowl you’d worn as he walked beside you on the trail up to the zipline today. Guilty for the complaints you’d aired to Namjoon about him.

“Yeah,” he says with a pleasant, lazy smile.

Birdsongs welcome you to the fresh island morning. Lazily, you roll onto your side and peel your eyes open, straining against the sunlight pouring in through your ocean-facing windows. You yawn, pushing yourself up onto your bottom to stretch sore arms above your head. You twist your torso this way and that, crack your knuckles, point your toes as you extend your legs before you. The room is filled with bright morning light, all hardwood floors and tapestries on the walls. You glance around your bedroom -- one of eight private rooms in this massive Airbnb -- and realize with a start that this is the first morning in years that you haven’t immediately grabbed for your phone to check for work emails.

You expect, perhaps, to be unnerved by this. This lack of structure, lack of organization.

But, perhaps more unsettlingly, you are…

Surprisingly calm.

You shake your head and pad on bare feet into the bathroom beside your room. As you brush your teeth, you lock sleepy eyes with your reflection and can’t help but crack a little smile. For the first time in a long time, you look like you’ve had a proper night’s sleep.

You emerge in the living room a few moments later to find Taehyung -- Namjoon’s stylist friend -- and Seokjin -- Namjoon’s actor friend -- still sleeping on the couch, the TV still droning on as they’d likely forgotten to turn it off. And, standing in the kitchen by himself nursing a cup of coffee and a calm smile, is Namjoon. He’s caught a bit of a tan, glowing in the gentle sunlight, and his eyes are warm and fond as he looks out across the living room at his friends.

As quietly as you can manage, you maneuver around the sleeping boys and take a place beside Namjoon, resting a hip against the marble counter. “Morning,” he says softly.

You nod once. “Morning,” you repeat, and hold your hand out for his mug of coffee, wiggling your eager fingers. He chuckles and relents without much fight, offering the handle to you carefully. You take a warm, welcome sip and sigh. “How’d you sleep?” you ask.

He hums a little and adjusts the sleeve of his loose tee. “So tired I didn’t even dream,” he says with a laugh.

Smiling you reply, “Me either.”

He eyes you with a knowing smile and squints a little. Like he’s teasing you. “You like it here, don’t you?” he asks.

You roll your eyes and give his shoulder a healthy shove. He laughs in response, but says nothing more as you sweep your gaze out toward the wall of windows leading down to the beach. It’s immaculate in the morning time. Not a single silhouette dots the shoreline, only fishing boats just beyond the surf. Tourists are still asleep, you reckon, and you feel a little proud to not be one of them sleeping away the most beautiful hours of the day. You can see faint traces of clouds ringing the horizon, and the pastel yellows of sunrise giving way to the azure blue sky.

“It’s...really nice,” you admit with a nod, sipping the coffee once more. And, without meaning to, you think of Jimin yesterday. His hand on your shoulder, his comforting words reminding you to ground yourself before you floated away. “Yeah…,” you add, concealing an unintended smile.

Namjoon, however, has always been the smarter one out of the two of you and, predictably, he catches this shift in your expression and turns to you head on with raised brows. “Whoa!” he remarks with a grin. He points to your face with his index finger. “Look at that!”

You swat his hand away with a laugh and roll your eyes. “Lay off, alright? I’m having a good time. Isn’t that the whole point?”

He chuckles and sighs as he rests once more beside you. Gently, he lifts a hand to softly pat the top of your head. You’re certain your shock registers plainly on your face as he pats again. “I’m proud of you,” he says.

And in the simplest of phrases, he’s managed to pluck something profound from inside of you. You don’t need to ask to know precisely what he means.

Why does it make you want to cry?

“Morning,” says a quiet voice from behind Namjoon and, leaning slightly so you can see around your friend’s broad chest, you notice Jimin standing there and can’t help but smile.

He glances between Namjoon and you for a few seconds, brows lifted as if in question, before Namjoon clears his throat and wordlessly excuses himself, snatching his coffee on his way back into the living room where he begins rallying the boys awake.

You sigh, running a finger along the countertop’s perfect edge. “What’s on the agenda for today?” asks Jimin as he settles beside you.

You pause to think. “Um…,” you begin, tapping your lips with your fingers. “I think…,” you continue, musing as you begin to work your lower lip between your index finger and thumb. “Something about ATVs.”

But before you’ve even finished your sentence, Jimin has seized your hand in his and is now standing so close you can smell the scent of his detergent wafting up from his pajama shirt. He stares down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a smirk, gaze flashing around your face before landing on your lips as he pulls both your hands down toward your shoulder. Your heart begins to race, eyes wide, skin hot where his fingers touch yours, and you swallow hard as he chuckles a few times, his breath fanning out across your warm face.

“Sorry,” he says, voice low and breathy. “It was distracting.” He then drops your hand and swivels on his heel, back toward the hallway from which he’d come. He pauses, however, to shoot you a wink over his shoulder. “Hard to focus when you do that,” he says, tapping his own plump lower lip with his fingertip before offering a wave and meandering down the hall.

And you stand there dumb, heart pounding so loud you can’t hear the crashing waves just outside the window.

You were shocked when you found out Hanseul had been messing around behind your back. Gutted, really. If it hadn’t been for Hanseul leaving his Instagram logged on to your phone, you’d probably never have found out to begin with. He’d always been that sort of guy, though.

Reckless.

And how very cliche, you’d thought as you read through months of exchanged messages, that he’d exchanged you like a used car for a newer model once he’d gotten tired of you. You dragged your finger almost lazily across the screen, brows raised as you rested on your couch, reruns of The Office blending into background noise. And where perhaps you’d expected hurt and resentment, you found only a grim acceptance.

Of course, you thought to yourself with a strange chuckle as you read the most recent message. A sappy sort of love IM that made your stomach churn. Riddled with sentimentality and grand platitudes, the messages reminded you of the ones you’d exchanged with Hanseul in the beginning. The ones that made you hopeful. Of course.

Somewhere amongst that grim acceptance, however, was something you didn’t expect. Something primal. A sort of fear that had no name.

Fear, perhaps, of the implications.

Fear of all the things that would have to change, all the comforts you’d known for years chipping away like old paint left on the wall too long.

And so, like a house of cards, your world shook and crumbled mightily down to its very foundation.

You’re slack-jawed as you stare at the row of ATVs standing equidistant before you. Eight identical machines pointed down the rolling hills behind you. An instructor standing with a grin and hands on her hips as she watches you scan the locomotives with your eyes wide and round. Beside you is Namjoon, smiling too broadly for his face to accommodate, with Seokjin and Taehyung drowsily fighting yawns. Jimin stands on your other side, arms crossed as he smirks at the ATVs like he’s done it all and seen it all before. His friend Jungkook is practically vibrating with anticipation, and Hoseok -- another choreographer from the company -- stands whispering in low tones with Yoongi, the young PD Namjoon never stops talking about.

The imposing green trees sway in the breeze around you: all potential threats as your group nears the line of ATVs. You wonder just how long you can manage on one of the things before hitting one of those tall waving trees. Anxiously, you glance over your shoulder at the hills extending as far as you can see. More possibilities for horrific injury.

As you tromp through the yielding sand underfoot, you feel someone step closer to you and you don’t need to lift your eyes from your boots to know who it is.

“You know, if you’re scared-,” Namjoon begins, but you silence him with a look, gaze severe.

He raises his hands in surrender before chuckling and patting your shoulder. He says nothing more as he swerves around you to hook his elbow around Taehyung’s neck. The two, laughing, continue toward the row of ATVs. Taking a moment to manage your breath, you press your palm against the rubber handle. You shut your eyes.

One.

You’re getting on this fucking ATV.

Two.

You’ve come this far, you can’t chicken out now.

Three.

You always chicken out.

Four.

When was the last time you did something that scared you this much?

Five.

Well...yesterday.

Six.

Before that though.

Seven.

When was the last time you took a risk?

Eight.

When was the last time you did something you wanted to do?

Nine.

Something you really wanted…

Ten.

You take a long inhale, nod once, and swing your leg over the side of the ATV. With both shaking hands gripping the handlebars, you glance to the side to see everyone else has mounted their vehicles, except for one. Jimin stands at the end of the line, talking with the guide too quietly to hear, but the way he’s waving his hands makes it seem like there’s a problem. The guide glances around, brows knit, before shrugging his shoulders and cupping a hand around the side of his mouth to shout.

“Hey guys! Looks like we’re one ATV short! Someone’s gonna have to share!” he calls, and grumbles resound around the group.

Beside you, Namjoon and Taehyung complain about having to share, both clearly not too keen on offering Jimin a spot on their ATV. You briefly feel bad for him, standing on the edge without a place to go to. You wonder if he feels left out, or if perhaps he’s considering staying back so the guide can show you the way. Without meaning to, you turn your head and lock eyes with Jimin and the instant you to you wish you hadn’t. Because now his eyes have lit up and his face is splitting in a small, hopeful smile.

And you know you’re cooked.

With a sigh, you raise your hand and wave it like mad, beckoning Jimin over. After all that, the breathing exercises and everything, after finding your courage, here you are handing over the reins.

“You can ride with me,” you say with a sigh as Jimin emerges at your side, smiling bright.

“Thank you,” he says with a laugh before hoisting himself up behind you.

“Oh!” you exclaim as Jimin rests his hands on his knees, right beside your thighs. He leans around your side and eyes you with wide brows. “I figured you’d wanna drive…,” you say, face going hot.

He blinks at you for a moment longer than normal before splitting into a grin and nudging your hip with his knee. “Well why would I do that?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “You looked really determined.”

Just like that, he understands exactly how you feel.

Startled, you turn to face him halfway, twisting your torso awkwardly as you lock eyes. He’s still smiling, still bright. The apples of his cheeks are redder than yesterday, and the bridge of his nose. A sunburn. He looks peaceful. As if he trusts you to drive this massive machine. As if it’s not even a thought that’s crossed his mind.

As if he never even considered taking this ATV from you.

“You guys ready?” shouts the guide with a hoot.

The boys around you holler their responses but you stay silent, still just staring at Jimin as he shields his face from the sun with one hand, still smiling, still peaceful.

You grip the handlebars and kick the ATV to life.

You first met Namjoon when you were in high school. He was a grade above you, so you’d never had reason to speak with him. Aside from passing him in the halls every now and again, you didn’t really interact with him at all. But things changed when he approached you after class as you finished cleaning off the blackboards. You’d stayed behind not because you wanted to, but because your classmate had pawned their classroom duties on you after a miserable game of Gin Rummy at lunch. You hadn’t protested much once the responsibility had fallen on your shoulders.

Another excuse to avoid going home.

Bony knuckles rapped against the blackboard beside your head and you jumped out of your skin, releasing a scream several octaves higher than you anticipated. But as the moment of panic passed, you realized with a start that the one who’d roused your attention was indeed upperclassman Kim Namjoon. And there he stood with a small dimpled smile and gentle eyes scanning you. You weren’t sure what he was looking for when he looked at you, but the way he tilted his head to the side made you think that perhaps he’d found it.

“Hey,” he said, face outlined by the last golden rays of autumn daylight.

You swallowed hard and took half a step back toward the podium. “Uh...hi…?”

“This yours?” he asked, dangling a sketchbook before you with one hand.

It took you several moments of squinting at the Strathmore sketchbook to realize that, in fact, it was yours. Your name was right there in the right corner where you’d scribbled it a month ago. And there was the tear in the cover from when your mother had tried to rip the thing from your hands -- unsuccessfully.

A rush of fear swelled through you and you snatched the pad from his outstretched hands like you were a prisoner and he was offering you food. Scared he’d rescind his offer if given even a moment to think it over. And as you clutched the thing to your chest, you scanned him with narrowed eyes.

“Where did you get this?” you asked. You were certain you had kept it safely in your bookbag since lunch. But glancing at the bookbag again, you found it surprisingly empty.

Namjoon raised his brows and raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, then chuckled with a shrug. “What kind of thief would return the thing they stole anyway?”

You paused for a moment, brows furrowed, before sighing and nodding. “I guess that’s true,” you admitted before gently guiding the sketchbook back into the mouth of your backpack. “Um…,” you hedged as you turned back to the guy. You held out your hand to him and he rolled up the long sleeve of his uniform cardigan to take it in his own. “Thanks,” you finished with a shake.

He shook his head. “Don’t mention it,” he said, laughing a little. “Had to ask around to find out which class you were in though.”

You felt a warm bloom of embarrassment and pulled your hand away, shoving it back into your pocket and averting your eyes. “I don’t have a job or anything,” you said.

He blinked at you. “Hm? What’re you talking about?”

You rubbed the side of your arm and shrugged. “My family’s kinda poor too. Like, we do fine, but my parents are really serious about money so…,”

“What’s your point?” asked Namjoon with wide, curious brown eyes.

You stared at him for a moment, puzzled, before continuing. “Aren’t you gonna ask for, like, reward money or something?”

He released a booming, chesty laugh before waving his arms like mad and shaking his head. “No! God, do I look like a thug to you?”

You eyed him from top to bottom and shrugged. “I don’t really know what a thug is supposed to look like.”

He sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “Forget the money,” he said, pausing to give you a warm smile. “I just wanted to meet the person who made those drawings.”

You went stiffer than a board. For a moment, time stood still. Namjoon froze before you, the gently falling leaves outside the classroom window froze, and you froze too. Like your feet were rooted to the ground.

“You...did you look through it?” you asked softly, too horrified to raise your voice above a bare whisper.

He nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I was looking for a phone number or something on the inside flap, but then I got distracted by the art.”

“You…”

“You’re really talented,” he said, offering another big smile. “Like, you could go pro if you wanted to.”

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting, and chucked the dirty blackboard eraser on the podium with a puff of fine dust. Without another word, you zipped up your backpack and slung it over your shoulders. You walked past him quickly, not even sparing him a glance, and walked faster when he followed you, calling after you and begging you to turn around.

Namjoon followed you around for a month after that: waiting outside your classroom after school, catching you off guard as you sketched in the courtyard during your lunch break, walking his bike behind you as you led the way to the bus stop, cheering for you at the sports festival and causing you to miss the volleyball coming straight for you. Every time he’d come around, you’d turn grey with horror and you wouldn’t say a word. But luckily for you, Namjoon said plenty enough for both of you. It was always, When are you gonna join the drawing club? or, You should start working on a portfolio, or, If you love art so much, why aren’t you applying to an arts college?

You didn’t bother asking how he knew where you were applying. As you’d gotten to know him, you’d begun to understand his uncanny ability to secure sensitive information from teachers. It seemed they all loved him about as much as you despised him. Not long after that comment, you finally began responding when he spoke to you. And you even began bickering like real friends.

After a while, you grew accustomed to him being around all the time. To the point that, when he graduated a year before you and went on to pursue a degree in music, you’d felt almost lonesome without him. And to the point that, when you texted him about your choice to pursue a degree in business, you were almost relieved when he caught the late bus out to your house to scold you.

One day you’re gonna snap, he’d said that night in a moment of calm. You’re gonna finally have enough of living for them. And it’s gonna hurt when it happens. Bad.

But the scolding had never been enough.

Because, in the end, that persistent fear ran like still waters through your body.

You’re realizing more and more that it’s the same fear. That it’s always been the same fear. Back then when you were so scared of losing Hanseul that you considered not even telling him you’d found the messages. In high school when you were too scared to show anyone your sketchbook. Even now, as you straddle the vibrating ATV, Jimin’s arms wrapped lazily around your middle as he giggles behind you, you’re scared to make a single sound for fear of messing up your focus on the hills before you.

If you really think about it, it’s all the same.

When you boil it down to its core, it’s always been the same.

Fear of fucking up.

Like you’ve been walking a tightrope from the start, and any small misstep will result in you plummeting, face first, into the ground below.

Your knuckles go white against your skin as you clutch the handlebars. Stiff, you follow the guide as he vaults over a hill, having no choice but to do the same. You launch your ATV over the sandy bump, sending both you and Jimin flying through the air. And even though a part of you expects to go splat in the dirt, after a few weightless seconds of flight, the two of you return to earth in one piece. This time, it isn’t Jimin’s laughter that startles you.

It’s your own.

“Holy shit!” Namjoon shouts as he runs toward you, face covered in fine dust. He grins at you like you’re his child, and as you slide off the side of the ATV, he sweeps you up in a big hug, laughing. “You did so good!”

You laugh too, patting his flexed bicep, and lean away slightly to get a better look at his dirty face. “God,” you say with a laugh, running the pad of your fingertip along his cheek, leaving behind a stripe of clean skin. “You need a shower, Joon.”

He nods and peels himself away, turning his attention to Jimin behind you. “You don’t look so good,” he remarks with raised brows.

And as you turn to see for yourself, you notice that in fact Jimin doesn’t look so good. Up until then it had been all laughter and smiles and playful squeezes, but now that he was standing in the dirt, arms crossed, leaning back against the ATV with his helmet in his hand, he looked...less than pleased. He watches you and Namjoon with narrowed eyes.

Oh God, you think in a moment of blind panic, I bet he wanted to drive the ATV after all...

But the moment Namjoon approaches and claps his hand against Jimin’s shoulder, the latter perks up and his eyes go bright once more. He turns a grin towards you and offers a big thumbs up. The sky above his waving hair is a perfect blue, and the sun is unrelenting, but somehow his smile is brighter. Carefully, you join the duo and pat the ATV with a sigh. Looking at it now, it doesn’t seem so scary at all. And after all the tips your guide had given throughout the course, you feel ready to do it all again if you get the chance.

Jimin eyes you with a fond smile. “How’d you like it?” he asks.

You hum. “It was...really exhilarating,” you say with a grin. Gently, you reach out your hand for Jimin to shake and without missing a beat he laughs and takes it.

But instead of shaking it, he gives a sharp yank and you go tumbling into his chest. Heart hammering, you struggle to regain your footing, but before you can process what’s going on, Jimin wraps both arms around your back and holds you tight. You’re sure your face reveals your chagrin, so you’re careful to keep it buried in his chest. And although it’s muffled through the fabric of his shirt, you can hear Jimin’s heart thumping quick.

“Thanks for letting me ride with you,” he says quietly against your hair.

You swallow hard, nerves making your hands sweat, and nod once. “Um...yeah, of course.” You can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes your parted lips and, hesitantly, you reach around to pat Jimin’s back with one hand. “It was fun.”

He backs up with a smile, but keeps one hand on your shoulder. “Yeah. Let’s do it again when we get home.”

You laugh again, eyes wide. “Are there ATV courses at home?”

Jimin pauses, purses his lips, and shrugs. “Let’s find out.”

Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Shoot! What time is it?” he asks, brows knitting.

You check the watch around your wrist and squint at it, but it’s hard to focus on anything with Jimin still touching you. “Um...half past two,” you say, brain foggy as Jimin steps closer.

He glances over your shoulder to stare intently at your wristwatch. Easily, he slides his hand along your shoulder blades before letting it rest at the small of your back. You can feel the ends of his hair tickling your hot cheek. He hums a little beside you and nods once, as if he is simply verifying the time. Perhaps he is simply doing that.

“Shoot!” Namjoon exclaims again. “If we don’t leave, like, now we’re gonna be late for snorkeling!”

Without meaning to, you slide your eyes toward Jimin and raise your brows only to find him staring at you with the same expression. The two of you share a knowing look before breaking into small smiles.

“Wouldn’t wanna be late for snorkeling,” Jimin says under his breath as Namjoon jogs back toward the guide, all the while frantically miming with his hands.

You grin. “God forbid.”

Hanseul said something once that really stuck with you. Not the sort of sentimental thing that you thought might’ve stuck with you, but something entirely mundane. Something trivial, something said in passing.

It was a Sunday afternoon. Neither of you had work, so you’d decided to take a nice long drive through the city. The sky was endlessly blue and beautiful, and even though you were just one car in the infinite stream of vehicles on the highway, you felt somehow free. With the windows rolled down all the way and music bumping softly through Hanseul’s car’s speaker, you remember shutting your eyes and just...breathing for a minute. And that was enough.

“Jesus Christ!” Hanseul shouted with a belabored sigh, and your eyes snapped open once more. You were quick to locate the source of his frustration and found, merging into your lane from the right, a massive freight truck. “I will never understand the hubris of semi drivers who think it’s a good idea to pass other semi drivers.”

Settling your racing heart, you sighed and breathed a laugh. “Impatience I guess,” you remarked, but he was prickly beside you and you knew he wasn’t finished.

He scoffed. “As if passing that guy is gonna get him there any faster,” he said, then rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Everyone should just go their own pace.”

And with that, he stopped talking. And you returned to leaning your head against the passenger doorframe, gazing out at the line of cars entering the highway.

The sun is white hot on your bare skin as you tread water, face bobbing just below the ocean’s surface. Floating like a buoy, you squint into the endless blue to catch a glimpse of some wildlife. It’s not as easy as it looks on Instagram, that much is clear to you now. The waves waves are gentle but restless as they rock you around and the plastic of the snorkel pushes uncomfortably against the sensitive skin of your lips. Your arms and legs are still sore from the previous day’s hike, and now your thighs ache from gripping the ATV. But somehow, despite the hardiness of it all, as you float parallel to the ocean floor, you can’t help but stare with wide-eyed wonder every time a flash of red fin or plume of underwater dust catches your eye. And so, mystified, you swim onward.

You feel someone swim up beside you, but it’s too much labor to look and you can’t tear your eyes away from a particularly beautiful fish cresting over the top of some coral beyond your fingertips. It’s only when that someone taps your shoulder that you finally snap from your daze and, blinking quickly, burst out from beneath the water and shove your snorkel to the side. Fearing catastrophe, you turn gasping toward Jimin as he wades beside you with a grin.

And your heart settles down.

You pat your chest a little and sigh. “Jesus,” you mumble.

“Scared you?” he asks, and from this close it’s hard not to get caught up in the brown of his eyes, in the wet ends of his dark hair as they dangle just above his eyebrows.

With the saltwater and the sunlight kissing his skin, he’s practically glowing.

You shake your head. “What’s up?” you ask.

He points with one finger toward the water below and wiggles his brows. “You wanna go down with me? The instructor said it’s really awesome.”

You stare at him for a long moment, trying to discern any malintent or ulterior motive and, upon gleaning none, settle for a nervous, breathy laugh. “Ah, I dunno…,” you say, rubbing your nose with the side of your finger. You look away, toward Jungkook’s fins as they flap violently against the glassy surface of the water. “I’m happy just looking from up here.”

Jimin hums a little. “You sure?” he asks, eyeing you like he knows something you don’t. “You seemed really into it when I came over.”

You swallow hard and your mouth tastes like seawater and anxiety. “No, I’m…,” you start, but it’s weak. The sentence trails into nothing.

He smiles bright enough to blind and you almost have to shield your eyes. “Come on,” he says, offering his hand toward you. “We’ll go down together and come back up together. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

You stare at his outstretched fingers, pruny and slightly sunkissed, and ponder for a moment. Were you always so tepid? So lukewarm? Wasn’t there ever a time in your life when you did things just because they sounded fun? Thinking back, it’s hard to pinpoint the precise moment you became so pragmatic, so afraid. Perhaps when your parents told you a career in art wouldn’t work out for you. That you didn’t have the stuff. Perhaps even before that.

But deep down, buried deeper than you’d like you admit, there’s a part of you that’s always wanted to zipline through the jungle. To ride ATVs. To see the coral up close.

That slumbering part of you is beginning to awaken.

And you wonder as you take Jimin’s hand with an uncertain smile if this has been your pace all along.

He giggles and the two of you dive in unison. You follow the instructions the snorkeling teachers gave you on the boat, and you hold your breath just the way you’re supposed to. Nonetheless, the deeper you swim, the cooler the water becomes and the more your nerves begin to rattle.

Only this time, you don’t find it unpleasant. Not at all, actually.

Because Jimin’s hand is warm.

The two of you coast to a stop in front of the vibrant red coral as a school of orange fish rushes by in a wave. You both reel back for only a moment and then, catching each other’s eyes, exchange the biggest smiles your snorkels allow. And boy is Jimin right. It is awesome. You swear you’ve never seen colors like this. Juxtaposed against the perfect blue all around, the coral reef stands like a mountain underwater, fish flying like birds around the jagged pink peaks, hiding in the deep purple. Anemones wave so close you’re tempted to touch them, and as you lean closer for a better look, you see a red seahorse nestled beside a green sea plant. As if sensing you there, the tiny fish scoots out from its cover and makes its way toward you. Eagerly, you extend your index finger and the creature nudges you just slightly before continuing on its way to the other side of the coral barrier.

Your heart is pounding, racing like a sports car and loud like one too. You turn toward Jimin with eyes blown wide and he’s grinning at you, so fond. He gives your hand a squeeze and you can’t help but squeeze back. Wordlessly, he jerks his head toward the surface, and the way the water plays with his hair makes it look like silk. You’re distracted for a moment by how beautiful it is, how beautiful he is, but he squeezes your hand again and once more jerks his chin upward. Ah! You need air!

You only realize it as Jimin makes a motion toward the surface, but now that you’re conscious of it it’s all you can think of. Quickly, the two of you begin kicking in unison toward where the water breaks way and, as you pop out from below, the two of you gasp a little while catching your breath. Wasting not a single second, you rip your snorkel off and shove your goggles up against your hairline. Grinning so wide it hurts, you smack Jimin’s shoulder.

“That was--!! It was--!!” you begin, but you can’t even finish your sentence.

Jimin laughs, that one laugh that sounds like bells, and his eyes nearly vanish as he smiles. “Right?” he asks.

You nod, clapping your hand against your cheek. “God! Did you see that seahorse?!”

“I did!”

“Wasn’t it--?!”

“It was!”

You laugh, exhilarated, and stare down at the distorted coral reef below your feet, warped by the shifting water. Your heart is a hammer in your chest. “Jimin!” you exclaim, not knowing quite what else to say.

He laughs. “Yeah!”

You turn to him, sincerely this time as the adrenaline slowly drains from your body, and meet his half-shut eyes. You realize with a start that you’re still holding his hand quite tight. And he’s making no move to change that. Gently, you squeeze.

“Thank you,” you say, and it’s all you can say really.

Drifting together in the middle of the ocean, two dots floating in the blue expanse, there’s something both completely insignificant and totally profound about it all. You can’t name it, but the sensation in your chest feels like when you finally get the water out of your ear after a day at the pool. Like something got dislodged.

And as Jimin looks at you with that bright smile, you smile back. “I’m glad you came,” he says gently.

And it’s honest.

Almost honest enough to make you forget the things he said when you first met.

“Why’d you say all that stuff at the bar back home?” you manage to ask over the sound of Hoseok laughing nearby.

You glance over to where Hoseok and Jungkook swim chatting away, much like you and Jimin.

Only they aren’t holding hands.

Jimin’s hand goes a little tight and he clears his throat. “Uh...well,” he begins, but before he can continue, Namjoon pops up from below the water right beside you.

You scream in surprise and smack the top of his head with your snorkel, but Namjoon only laughs and gives you a splash. “What’re you guys doing? There’s a whole ocean down there!” he asks, but when his eyes travel sideways toward Jimin, his expression changes. Like a nervous dog.

You look too and see Jimin looks...well, pretty mad. You can’t put your finger on it, but it’s like there’s some tension between Jimin and Namjoon today. A sense of competition perhaps? It’s hard to say. But as you stare at Jimin now, his brow is low and his jaw is clenched and he quietly slips his hand from yours.

You’re not expecting to be sitting beside legendary producer Min Yoongi on a rattling motor boat in the middle of the ocean, but here you are. Life is funny that way, you suppose as the two of you jostle against one another. Shoulder-to-shoulder you sit like students on a field trip, neither one saying much of anything at all. As the sun begins its lazy descent across the sky, you’re stranded, sunburnt, returning to shore after a long afternoon with the fish.

You glance around for someone to save you, to perhaps sweep you up in one of the several shouting conversations being held around you on all sides, but your eyes can’t seem to snag anyone else’s. Well, besides Namjoon who eagerly widens his own and gives you that big dumb smile that somehow has become bigger and dumber since arriving on the island. Even Jimin won’t look at you and is, in fact, sulking at the end of the rows of benches, gazing out at the trail of sunset leaking out across the water like a golden road. Perhaps he’s wondering, like you, what it might be like to walk on it.

Or perhaps he’s mad at you.

Your heart sinks.

You can’t place it, but he doesn’t seem himself. After sliding his hand from inside yours, he’d swum away from you and Namjoon to begin chatting with Yoongi. It’s not easy to make a show of being mad when you’re treading water in the middle of the sea, but he managed. As goofy as it was to watch him doggie-paddle away in a huff, part of you worried that you’d somehow set him off. Like you’d activated that part of him from the night you met, the angry, bitter part that he’s been holding in the entire trip so far.

But what could you have done?

Nothing, as far as you’re concerned. He’s neither a friend nor a lover. He’s just…someone you know through Namjoon. Just a cursory orbiter in your solar system. You barely think about him when you’re apart.

Well…you used to.

Now, as you watch him watching the water, it’s all you can do not to stand up on wobbly sea legs and stumble over to him with crossed arms and demand he tell you what’s wrong. And, more disturbingly, now as you watch him watching the water, there’s a strange, sickly sweet part of you that wants to sit beside him and press the bare skin of your thigh against his.

“He’s just moody,” Yoongi says from beside you, the first words he’s spoken to you during the entirety of this trip.

Your eyes go wide and you turn only your head — it’s the only part of you that’s not squished between him and the inside of the boat — to look at him. Pale and pretty, Yoongi is watching Jimin too. But with a considerably less troubled expression than your own. He slides his eyes toward you and offers a small, barely there smile.

“You’re worried, right?” he continues.

You think for a moment, think about lying, but the motor on this boat is far too loud for anyone else to hear your conversation and besides…it sounds like Yoongi’s got some information on Jimin that you want to know.

Not that you like him or anything.

You nod. “Yeah, a little. Things were really cool all day today, but…,” you begin, then sigh and shrug. “Seems like maybe he doesn’t like me much.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Doubt that,” he says, then rolls his eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, whatever he’s thinking.

Only it’s not obvious. You have no idea what’s going on in that genius brain of his, and the way he eyes you sidelong let’s you know he’s not going to tell you. Not easily anyway.

So you sigh and rest your cheek in your hand. “I just think he hates me,” you continue, doubling down, hoping that circumnavigation will get you to the treasure.

Yoongi cocks a brow. “He definitely doesn’t hate you,” he says, and there’s something in the word ‘definitely’ that sounds like he’s hiding something inside it.

“We were having such a nice time,” you go on, feigning a heavy sigh, “but then poof. Like nothing even happened. I think I made him mad.”

“If you’re trying to get me to gossip about my friend, I’ll tell you right now,” Yoongi begins, then leans toward you with a conspiratorial smirk, “all you had to do was ask.”

Your eyes alight and you grin. “Really?”

“Jimin’s scoping you out,” Yoongi says, nodding once like again it’s obvious. “He’s testing the waters.”

“Why?”

“Duh,” he says with a laugh. “He’s interested in you. Has been since we all met at the bar.”

You stiffen. Interested? You can’t really fathom it. Someone like him, a bona fide and self admitted heart breaker, is interested in you? Perhaps you’ve been dating too many Hanseuls but the thought of a Jimin being interested in you is inconceivable.

“How’d you know?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

He smiles and shakes his head. “We’ve been friends for ages now. I know when he’s interested in someone,” he says. He pauses, glances at Jimin only to find him now staring with wide eyes at the two of you. Like you’re sharing secrets. Which…you suppose now that you are. “He doesn’t always know though.”

“Really?” you ask, meeting Jimin’s worried eyes from across the boat. You offer a smile, almost like a white flag, which he doesn’t reciprocate.

“He’s been through bad relationships in the past. You know how that goes, from what Namjoon says,” Yoongi pauses to laugh.

You go hot. You didn't known Namjoon had made your relationship information public domain. You’ll have to have a word with him soon. “From the way he talked at the bar, sounds like he’s the one who puts other people through bad relationships.”

“No, that’s a recent development,” says Yoongi, nodding. “He wasn’t always like that. Used to be a really attentive guy, but…I dunno. You get burned one too many times and you start doing the burning I guess.”

You cock a brow. “Is that right?” you ask, and plead with your unreasonable heart to stop pounding like mad in your chest. Why are you so excited to learn about him? “Seems like a real player.”

“Who still uses that word?” Yoongi teases with a laugh and you’re surprised by just how often he laughs. “Anyway, no. He only seems that way. He’s actually, like…really possessive and jealous. Kinda what self destructed his last real relationship.”

“No way,” you say, recalling what he’d said that night.

If you get hurt you’re the one whose expectations were too high.

Was that advice for me or for himself? I turn to look at Jimin only to find him with that same nervousness etched into his features. He swipes his tongue along his bottom lip and knits his brows. You don’t know what exactly he’s so afraid of, don’t know what sort of relationship has warped him so badly, but you’re certain that this anxious, worried Jimin is the real one.

And so is the one who helped you at the zipline on the first day.

And so is the one who held your hand underwater.

And so is the one who is still giving you the silent treatment.

You understand better than anyone that emotional trauma manifests in many ways. For you, it was burning your first easel and giving your paints away to your cousin back in high school. For you, it was getting a boring office job to make your parents proud. For you it was dating Hanseul after Hanseul expecting it to be different.

It’s never different.

But there’s one thing you know for sure: Park Jimin is very, very different.

The Fijian bar is packed to the nines with tourists from all walks of life. Some tall, burly men in Hawaiian shirts — somehow simultaneously on brand and horrendously off brand for Fiji —, a few couples kissing and toughing over margaritas, a bachelorette party — who can afford a bachelorette party to Fiji? — and a whole hosts of other guests flood the scene. It doesn’t seem like Namjoon’s cup of tea, however, and it isn’t yours either. Not really. You prefer lively dive bars with questionable clientele and cheap drinks over tourist traps like this. But as they hand you your cocktail in a plastic tiki mug, you decide perhaps the campiness isn’t that bad. Especially as you take your first sip and realize they pour as heavy here as they do back home.

Jimin’s still boycotting you, and you don’t even bother wondering why. Different is alluring, it’s enchanting, it’s intriguing…

But it’s still dangerous.

And besides, once you leave this island and the magic spell breaks, you’ll see everything more clearly. Jimin included.

And so you’re boycotting him too.

Eagerly, you stand smushed between Yoongi and Jungkook as the fire dancers — is fire dancing even Fijian? — take the floor with an artistic flair. The crowd is electric, excited, and extremely drunk as you all chant for the dancers to take the stage. (Really, is fire dancing Fijian at all?) Jungkook grabs your shoulder and shakes it, causing you to both jump and laugh at the same time, and the three of you stand under the glow of the lanterns hanging on strings overhead. If you look up, you almost mistake them for stars.

As the dancers begin their performance, you cheer with all your chest, and you feel someone press close behind you. You can tell from the firmness of his chest that it’s Namjoon, staring over your shoulder at the stage. It’s hard to get a good view, especially with everyone so drunk, so you lean back and tilt your head out of his way. One hand drapes over your other shoulder as the other nurses his drink and you chat easily with Namjoon despite the physical proximity.

You two may as well have been siblings, anyway.

Had Jimin been that close to you…

Well, you try not to think of that as you work your swirly straw between your teeth.

“Pretty cool,” Namjoon says, but you catch the way his voice sounds just a little listless.

You turn slightly to face him with a grin and, poking his cheek where his dimple would be if he smiled, you giggle. Oh boy, you’re drunk. “I know you’d rather be dancing in caves or fishing for eels, but this can be fun too!”

Namjoon relents with a smile and swats your hand away. “You’re right,” he says easily, sighing as he rests close behind you. “Although fishing for eels sounds really cool.”

You smack his leg with the back of your hand and he responds with laughter. “You know, eels are actually-,”

“Hey,” says a voice you hardly recognize, a voice belonging to Jimin. Only when he speaks now it’s so low and deep in his chest it doesn’t sound like him at all.

You didn’t notice, but he’s taken up Jungkook’s spot at your left and he’s staring at you, all wrapped up in Namjoon, like you’ve committed a horrible crime. For all you know, you have. Nonetheless, you’re too drunk to be too worried and you give him a bright smile and a wave with your drink-less hand.

He edges closer, skin electric as he presses against your side. “You’re smashed,” he remarks, like it’s news.

You laugh. “Mhm!”

He furrows his brow. “You sure you’re good to stay out here?”

“I’m watching, don’t worry,” Namjoon offers with a well-meaning smile.

But this only serves to make Jimin bristle further. He stares at you two like you’re a disfigured monster, two conjoined bodies linked from chest to back, a horrible science experiment gone wrong. And you can’t decide what mixture of emotions is dancing in his dark, heavy eyes but you know it’s no good.

“Alright then,” Jimin says with a sharp nod. “I won’t worry anymore.”

Only you want him to worry. If you’re being honest with yourself — which you are now because he’s right, you’re smashed — you want him to do more than worry. You want him to take your hand and hold it tight. You want him to press his lips against yours in the hallway by the bathrooms. You want his hands on your hips, then on your legs, then—

Well…

Jimin turns around to skulk back to the bar and you let him. Things are spinning and they’re getting too intense too fast. That’s the difference between A Jimin and A Hanseul. That’s the devastating difference. Where Hanseul adds stability, constancy, a bland sort of expectation, Jimin adds…

Excitement.

Perhaps it’s the old artist in you, the one you push down so fervently you often wonder if it’s died in there, but the idea both entrances you and terrifies you in equal measure. So you stay leaning back against Namjoon’s chest, swaying as you watch the fire dancers dazzle and delight, and watch out the corner of your eye as Jimin begins chatting with a particularly attractive blond tourist at the bar.

You pretend not to notice Jimin’s hand on the stranger’s thigh.

The next morning the stranger’s in your Airbnb. You’re the first one awake, having had a wicked headache as soon as you opened your eyes, and as you stare blankly into your coffee mug you hear footsteps coming almost bashfully from down the hallway. Nobody else is around in the living room. Just you, your coffee, and the footsteps. Squinting, you watch as the stranger, not even registering your presence, tiptoes down toward the kitchen and rifles through the fridge. Watching carefully, you almost laugh at the way the stranger picks up each fruit, inspects it, and puts it back before settling for a yogurt.

“Sleeping over and stealing food?” you remark, and you mean for the comment to sound teasing and playful. But it comes out bitter. Sincere.

The stranger lets out a particularly sharp scream before turning to you and dropping the yogurt onto the countertop. “Oh! Uh…shit…I’m…sorry I’ll just…go…now, uh…”

You can feel the awkwardness rising in the room, the sense of intimate dislike coming from both of you — mostly you. And before you can say another word, the stranger is gone, having shuffled like a raccoon caught mid-trash-heist out the front door with a click. You sigh, grip your nose bridge, and shake your head.

“Wow,” says Jimin from the hallway, leaning against the wall with crossed arms and a frown. “Very mature.”

You roll your eyes. “You know it’s not that kind of trip and you still brought a stranger over,” you say, then look at him square. You’re both fuming. “At least vet the people you sleep with to make sure they’re not thieves.”

“It was breakfast,” he says. “Jesus Christ, you’re so stiff.”

Your body goes cold. Who is this new person in Jimin’s skin? Gone is the warm, comforting man who’d helped you day in and day out. In his place was someone new, someone off-putting. You clench your jaw. “Yeah well at least I don’t invite randos over to a shared Airbnb.”

“God,” he groans, lolling his head back like you exhaust him. “Do you ever get tired of being such a fucking stick in the mud?”

You feel your spine stiffen and set your mug of coffee aside. “Pardon me?”

“Like, does it ever get tiring?” he repeats, rolling his beautiful eyes, giving a cruel smirk. You hate that those beautiful lips can curve so wickedly. “Oh, I can’t do it! Oh, I’ll just stay back! Oh, I don’t even like painting,” he says with a dramatic mimicry of your own voice.

How does he know about the painting?

Namjoon…

Your throat constricts. “I’m trying, Jimin,” you say, but your voice comes out thick, labored. Because it’s not true. Because you’re not trying. Not in the real world. Not when you leave this island.

If you keep talking to him, you’ll cry for sure.

Just like before.

He laughs. “Trying?”

“At least I give enough of a shit to try at all!” you snap, and you expect regret to seep into your chest immediately, but it doesn’t come.

Jimin seems taken aback. He cocks a brow. “What’re you saying?”

“At least I’m still brave enough to care,” you continue, standing to your feet and brushing past him. You pause beside him and fix him with a hard glare. “Don’t talk to me again,” you say, and you spit the final word, “ever.”

And he doesn’t. Not as the pack travels through town and picks up little trinkets. Not while you stick practically glued to Namjoon’s side through alleyways and along crowded streets. Not during the night hike or the cave exploring or the picnic on the cliff. Not for days.

Not at all.

And you’re relieved, you think, that he’s respecting your request at least.

But you’re also burdened so heavily it’s like weights on your chest all the time. Because when you happen to meet his eyes, in the instant before you both look away, you see a fresh sort of hurt and you know it’s you who inflicted it this time. You know you touched on something too sensitive. And just because he poked at your open wound doesn’t mean you had a right to poke at his. There’s a vulnerable sort of awareness between you two, awareness of each other. So as you avoid touching the exposed skin of his shoulder with your hand while reaching for a necklace at a street vendor, or as you sweep a hand out in the darkness of the cave, seeking purchase, and nearly grab his forearm, the two of you are quick to repel like magnets.

You sit on a surfboard now, and the moon makes a road of light along the water just as the sun had. It’s the middle of the night, and you’re straddling both sides of the board as the waves rock you back and forth. And you tilt and you sway and you shut your eyes. A few weeks ago you’d have winced at the idea of floating out in the water at night, feet dangling over the expanse of ocean nothing below that extends who knows how far. You’d have called yourself crazy.

Maybe you are crazy.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

You open your eyes and see that road of light. Namjoon told you once that the Swedes have a word for it. Mångata. He told you that last night as the two of you sat on the beach. You’d been doing that lately, too uncomfortable to spend much time in the Airbnb with Jimin lurking about in the shadows and the walls and the scent of the pillows. He’s practically everywhere in there, even when he’s gone.

Namjoon also told you he thinks something’s wrong with Jimin. Something’s shaken him up.

You told him you didn’t care.

And he didn’t tell you anything more.

You kind of wish he would have.

Jimin hasn’t brought home any more strays, not since you and him had your monumental blowout. And while you’re glad he’s respecting you and the others more, you’re also worried. More worried than that day on the boat. More worried than that night at the bar.

Because you see it too. What Namjoon sees. Something is wrong.

Jimin floats several feet away, breaking the mångata into shards of displaced moonlight. He’s a silhouette, small and dark, but outlined by glowing silver. He’s beautiful, even from so far away. Especially from so far away. Ethereal. His head bobs a little and he smiles as he chats with Jungkook and Hoseok. But the smile isn’t all the way there. Even so, it’s lovely. Perhaps because he’s the only one in the road of moonlight, or perhaps because even a halfway ghost of a smile is beautiful if it’s Jimin.

For a painful, blissful moment, almost too short to note, almost too fleeting to feel, you have the irresistible urge to paint it. The road of moonlight, the mångata, leading right from the heavens to Jimin. Shattering like glass, the moonlight breaks behind his board. But he’s suspended in it.

You might cry again just looking at it.

You’re sure you’re all choked up. Night surfing shouldn’t make you cry. But you can’t help it. It’s like your art teacher said, like glimpsing sublimity. It’s torment, staring at it, knowing you can’t paint it and even if you could…you wouldn’t do it. You know your face reveals it all. It always does. And you know that if Namjoon so much as peeks at you, he’ll know you’re about to cry.

Not that he did the night you first met Jimin at the bar. In fact, the only person who seemed to realize you were near to tears that night was-

Jimin seizes your wandering, teary eyes. They lock on hard, like a vice grip, and hold tight. The moonlight’s on you, at least from where Jimin sits on his board, and you’re close enough to make out his features so you know he can make out yours. His eyes go wide like he knows and you know he knows for sure now because he’s paddling with his hands for rudders toward you which makes you panic for real and spin wildly around toward the shore.

You paddle and paddle like mad until your toes touch sand and you abandon your surfboard in the crashing waves forgetting it’s attached to you by your ankle. So you drag the surfboard behind you as the surf tries to drag it back. You know you can easily remove the ankle band and carry the surfboard like a normal person, but God you can’t seem to manage actually doing it because your heart is racing and you feel as if Jimin has unwittingly seen an extremely, horribly, heat-achingly intimate moment.

“Wait!” he calls, breathless, mere yards behind you despite you head start.

You’re crying in earnest now, sobbing as you fight with the cord tethering you to your board, tethering you to that moment on the waves. It’s like you and the surfboard are becoming one thing; you’re completely helpless to the whims of the ocean as it tears you back and spits you out. The tip of the foam board keeps rocking against the sand before the whole thing gets yanked out again and, frustrated, you finally bend down too late to disconnect yourself. But by the time you and the surfboard are once again separate entities, Jimin has run up behind you and is standing, panting, with his surfboard against his hip.

Your tears fall right off your chin and into the water around your ankles before they disappear on the receding wave. An ocean of stars is splayed out overhead, but you can’t even lift your eyes to see it, hands braced on both your knees, sobbing.

And this is the moment.

The moment you finally snap.

And when it happens, it does hurt. Bad.

Because Jimin was never really just Jimin, not really. He was more than that to you, represented more than that. He was the easel you burned. He was the art college brochure you hid from your parents. He was the job listing you saw as an apprentice painter three weeks before going on this trip. He was every missed opportunity, every chance you rejected. He was all of it wrapped into one pretty package.

And he’s staring at you.

You manage to wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, but it’s not enough to stop the tears. It’s as if a valve has broken in you that can’t be fixed until everything’s been spilled out of it. An old valve too. As old as you.

“Shit,” he says, like it’s a catchphrase.

You sniffle. “You said that before too,” you choke out through sobs. “At the bar back home.”

He looks at you horrified for a moment before shaking his head. “I know, I…I just…sometimes I do and say things that just fucking suck, you know? Like they just…,” he says, tormented, as he rakes his fingers through his sea slick hair. “Like I can’t help it. It just comes out.”

“Because you’re hurt,” you say, still crying, nearly incoherent.

And his eyes snap back to your splotchy face with the kind of intensity that sets things on fire. “Huh?”

You nod. “That’s why you like me, right?” you ask, sniffling as you struggle to stand upright. “Because I’m hurt too. Hurt people find each other.”

Jimin is still and silent as stone before slowly, he touches a hand to his cheek and keeps it there. “I…it’s not like I’m hurt,” he says. “Just…that my first real relationship ended badly.”

“Yoongi told me,” you say, finally in control of your rapid breathing. “A little.”

Jimin stiffens before, like a rock, collapsing on the ground with his feet halfway in the waves’ path. Not knowing what else to do, you join him. “I thought we’d be together for life, you know? Like…I really believed that.”

You think back to Hanseul. Did you ever feel that way about him? “Mhm,” is all you can choke out.

“But…you know, things fall apart. I guess I was…I was expecting too much without giving all of myself,” he begins, nodding once as he wiped the space beneath his eyes. “Like you said. Half of me.”

“Did your ex say that to you?” you ask carefully, minding each syllable as you forced them out.

He nods. “Just like that too. You’re only giving me half of you and expecting all of me in return,” he repeats, sighing. “That’s why I did it!” he imitates.

“Did what?”

He’s quiet, and you know now why he was so hard on you at the bar. Why he’d known exactly where your weak points were. Because they were his weak points too.

“Why are you crying?” he asks finally, the elephant on the beach.

You swallow hard, the tears having slowed enough to see properly. Enough to see all your friends enjoying the surf and the moonlight. “Because it just…hit me,” you say slowly. “All at once, with no warning at all. It…hit me for real.”

“Is it because we’re leaving soon?”

You shake your head. “That’s not what I mean.” He’s quiet and you know he’s waiting for you to continue. You’re waiting too, if you’re being honest. To find the words. To understand it. “I mean…all of it. The entire crushing culmination of everything I’ve ever not accomplished.” You pause, watch your hands as they lace and unlace. “I think I get why Joon wanted us to come out here.”

“I was jealous,” Jimin admits. More like blurts, because the way he looks now once you meet his eyes is like he didn’t mean to say it. He’s blushing like crazy and he’s got a feral look in his eye. You await his next admission. “Of you and Namjoon. Even though it’s stupid. Even though we…you and me…we aren’t…”

You blink at him. “We aren’t what?”

“We aren’t anything.”

“Who says?”

He stares at you for a long moment. “Then you and Namjoon?”

You shake your head. “Good friends.”

“I…well shit,” he says again, a mantra. He rubs his forehead. “I’m stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“Just…you kinda reminded me what it was like to, like…,” he begins, tossing the words around in his mouth like they still aren’t right, “like feel butterflies, you know?” He shrugs. “To wanna show up for someone. To wanna try.”

You stiffen. It seems the two of you had a propensity for finding each other’s Achilles heel. You’d pinned him as well as he’d pinned you. “I…,” you begin, but there’s nothing you can say. Nothing you can do.

Well…

There is one thing.

But that one thing would change everything. Not just between you and Jimin, but between you and you. Between who you try to be and who you are. Between the life you’ve told yourself to be happy with and the life you want, the life you need.

This one thing…

It’s going to take more than a little courage.

If you’re feeling really nervous, I’ve heard it helps to shut your eyes and count to ten. Like, tell yourself you’re definitely gonna do it once you reach ten and just…go.

One.

He’s staring at you with stars reflected in his eyes.

Two.

Your heart is racing.

Three.

Your palms are itchy in the sand.

Four.

But he’s looking at you, looking like he really sees you.

Five.

Hanseul never looked at you like that.

Six.

Nobody ever looked at you like that.

Seven.

He’s red, his whole face.

Eight.

You’re shaking.

Nine.

Don’t you want to paint it?

Ten.

You lean forward on your hip and, without a word, press your lips agains his. They’re soft, every bit as soft as you imagined and softer, and his skin yields against your light touch. You shuffle closer and so does he, hand snaking around your waist to rest on your lower back, head tilting to deepen the kiss. There’s no teeth-clashing, no cataclysm. There’s a tenderness that only comes from understanding, and it’s warm pressed against him. He draws you closer, holds you by the waist now, you arms around his neck and hands lacing through his saltwater hair. He tastes like ocean, like coconut and sunscreen and salt. And his skin it hot beneath your fingertips, flaming practically. You can’t stop inching closer and closer until—

He pulls away for a breath, eyes wide and so close your noses touch. “Shit,” he exhales, only this time the word feels nice.

And you don’t know what this means or what you’ll do when you get home, but you know you’ve got to quit your job. And you know you’ve got to dust off your easel. And you know, most definitely, that you’ve got to kiss Park Jimin again.

And so you do.

Again.

And again.

And one more time for good measure.

And as you pull away, breathless, your eyes lock and he smiles just a little. “Does this mean I can talk to you again?” he asks.

You shove him lightly by the chest only for him to pull the two of you back together again like magnets, only this time you don’t repel. He smiles so bright it eclipses the moon and, without moving, without breathing, you ask, “Can I paint you?”

[recurring-polynya]

Sometimes, when I don’t feel like writing the things I am supposed to be working on, I have a document worth of drabbley post-TYBWA stuff where I’m working out how Renji and Rukia actually manage to get family-approval for their relationship and subsequently get married. It’s pretty rough and I never finish any of the parts.

In any case, @sillier-things mentioned recently that she liked stories about making babies and I told her I would write her a drabble, so I wrote a little story about family planning, because I am a thirty-eight year old, deeply boring woman, and because I need, in my heart, for Ichika to have been extremely planned.

So, I wrote this, mostly for me, and I hope you like it, too. If you don’t, I’ll just write you another one. Takes place in the late fall, between the TYBWA and their wedding, they are betrothed. (Renji likes to pronounce “betrothed” with three syllables and in his Byakuya voice). PG for some raunchy sex talk.

Some background from the other parts that maybe I’ll finish someday?:

- Renji beat Byakuya in a fight and then turned in his paperwork for dating Rukia

- Byakuya was will to let Renji marry into the Kuchiki family, but Renji realized that Rukia would be happier living a more independent life, and asked Byakuya if she could marry out of the family instead. Byakuya refused to let her marry a nobody, so he did what anyone would: named Renji his vassal.

- Renji somehow managed to buy a house that his 4th Seat won in a poker game off some other noble idiot (I wrote this part once when I got really nostalgic about their house from Between Tides, I told you I was a deeply boring person)

- Byakuya is not as recovered from his fight with As Nodt as everyone thinks he is. (Renji and Rukia know, tho)

Rukia sat on a tall bar stool, while Renji stuffed gyoza on the other side of the kitchen island. She was going down a long checklist. “Last one!”

“Surely not!”

“Surely yes! Do you want to use the good silver chopsticks?”

“The ones that are slippery as hell? No.”

“You’re getting pretty good at them,” Rukia said, propping one elbow up on the counter.

“I’m not worried about me. We get to invite our friends to this thing, too, right? In addition to all 900 of your relatives?”

“They’re your relatives now, too, Mr. Branch Family Head,” Rukia reminded him. “Whether you marry me or not. And yes, we can invite our friends to this thing, or as I like to call it, our wedding.”

Renji plopped another dumpling onto his tray. “Well, I don’t want Ikkaku to shove a metal chopstick in my ear on my wedding day, so can we please use normal ones? Is that allowed?”

“We can use the second most fancy chopsticks, I still wouldn’t categorize them as ‘normal.’”

“So, is that it? You’re really out of questions?”

“I’m out of wedding-related questions. You still haven’t told me why you’re making enough gyoza to feed your entire squad.”

“Because it’s easier to make them in big batches, they freeze really well.”

Rukia waved an arm at the room behind her, which was mostly full of boxes. “You don’t have anything better to do? You moved in three weeks ago, have you unpacked anything?”

“I unpacked the kitchen stuff, obviously. And you’re here. I know how you like it when I wear this apron.”

Rukia folded her arms on the counter and rested her chin on them. “Renji. You’re still sleeping in the barracks, aren’t you?”

Renji stared deeply into his bowl of pork and cabbage. It was much more forgiving than his fiancee. “This house is really big. It gets lonely at night. I still don’t see why I had to move in first.”

“How am I supposed to marry into your family if your family doesn’t even have a house? What sort of poor excuse for a noble are you anyway?” Rukia teased him.

“The worst,” Renji agreed cheerfully.

Rukia’s smile wavered a little. “It’s not too big, is it? For just two people?”

“It’ll be perfect when you’re here, I promise. If it’s still too big, we’ll get that bunny you’ve always wanted." 

Renji expected some shouting on the topic of bunnies, but instead, Rukia was quiet. He looked up from his dumplings to see her chewing on her bottom lip pensively. "Renji? Can I ask you something?” she asked as his eyes met hers.

“Nope!” he replied. “You said you were done! You blew your wad on centerpieces and great-uncles!”

She gave him a withering stare.

“Of course you can ask me anything, dummy,” he chided her.

Rukia sat up and leaned back as far as she could without falling off her stool. “Do you wanna have kids?”

Renji blinked. “Well…” he said slowly. 

Rukia waited.

“To be honest, I’ve spent a lot of time on my figure. I’m worried you wouldn’t find me attractive anymore if I couldn’t lose the weight afterwards–”

“Oh, shut up, you are the worst!” Rukia looked around for something she could throw at him, but the best thing she could come up with was a dish towel, which he ducked easily. “I’m being serious, here!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he chuckled, not sounding very sorry. “Do you want to have kids?”

“No! No dodging! I asked you first!”

They stared at each other, eyes narrowed.

“What if we said it at the same time?” Renji suggested.

“That seems like a terrible idea, but it is fair. Let’s do it.”

“Okay, on three, then. One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

“Yes,” said Rukia at the same time as Renji said, “I do, but I feel it puts an unfair burden on you and I know being a good leader to your squad is something you take very seriously and I won’t feel like anything is missing from– did you just say 'yes’?”

“I knew you hadn’t thought this through properly,” Rukia muttered.

He threw a piece of wadded up dough at her head. She caught it.

“You moron!” she scolded. “You’re the head of a family, now! What kind of a dick do you think I am, that I would agree to marry you with no intention of bearing you an heir!”

Renji’s face split into a lopsided grin. “First of all, if you say the phrase 'bearing me an heir’ again, I am going to be so overcome with passion that I will be unable to wait until our marital vows, and I’ll have my way with you right here and now.”

Rukia rolled her eyes. As if he gave half a shit about wedding vows. As if they hadn’t done it already once today within five minutes of her walking in the door.

“Secondly, who the hell else would I marry? I’ve already incorporated Sode no Shirayuki’s tsuba into my family crest.” He shoved up his sleeve for emphasis, as if she had somehow forgotten what it looked like, the segmented oval of her released sword’s guard, bisected by a lightning bolt. She couldn’t believe he’d gotten it tattooed on the inside of his forearm on the same day Byakuya declared him a one-man vassal family. She also couldn’t believe he wouldn’t let her get a matching one until they were actually married. Apparently Seireitei tattoo artists were very serious about not doing clan symbols without permission. At least he was finally willing to wear long sleeves again, now that it was November. 

“That’s your problem,” she informed him.

“My favorite problem,” he announced. “The branch family thing is nice, I guess, but mostly I just care about being married to you. You don’t need to feel obligated to–”

Rukia threw the dough ball back at his head. It hit him square in the forehead and bounced off. “Look, you lunkhead. I don’t know if I would be any good at being a mom, but it’s just stupidly obvious how good a dad you would be, not to mention how hot you would be in one of those baby sling things. Don’t you dare try to deny it, as you stand there in your dumb apron, making your freezer meals.”

His cheeks had gone a little pink. “All I was gonna say is that I think you would be a pretty awesome mom. You can skateboard. I can’t skateboard. You… you really want to?”

Rukia shrugged, a little defensively. “We had a pretty shitty childhood, y’know, but we all took care of each other. We did okay. We were happy. I feel like… like it would be nice to actually take care of someone. Give them food and hugs and tell them stories and all the stuff no one ever did for us. That I would like to do that with you.”

Renji was regarding her strangely.

“What?” Rukia huffed.

“I just really like you, y’know,” he said softly. 

Now Rukia was the one with pink cheeks. “Also, I just feel like I could make a really good baby,” she proclaimed. “Especially with your help. Imagine a kid with my brains and aesthetic and your height and abs.”

“You do realize we’re just as likely to get an angry shorty with my hair and your stubbornness,” Renji informed her dryly. “Not to mention a foul mouth because there’s no way we’re gonna remember to watch our language around them.”

“Sounds perfect to me, either way,” Rukia replied.

Renji grinned and continued on with his dumpling stuffing. “All right, Kuchiki. I’m game if you are.”

“I am,” Rukia confirmed. “When do you want to start?”

Renji guffawed. “You do not mess around, do you? My hands are covered in ground meat at the moment–”

“Be serious! Besides, I already cast the all-purpose protection kidou on you today and I’m very good at it, so it’ll probably last a full eight hours.”

Renji shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You be serious. Wouldn’t you rather wait until you get a new captain in place?”

Rukia stuck her lower lip out. “Uhhh, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

Renji looked up, regarding her under lowered eyelids. “Yesssss?”

Rukia made a squirmy face. “The Head-Captain talked to me the other day. He, uh, said that with all the losses overall, and the fact that there aren’t really any good candidates, he wants to keep the 13th small for the next couple of years and let me, um, growintothecaptaincy.”

Renji raised one eyebrow at her, looking very proud, but not saying anything.

“He wants to do the same with the Seventh,” Rukia quickly excused. “And he’s going to talk to Captain Hitsugaya about mentoring me, both as a captain and with my bankai. That’s the real issue, y'know, that with a bankai like that, I should really know what I’m doing before I have any business captaining a squad.”

“I hear you,” Renji agreed.

Rukia narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what you told Captain Kyouraku when he asked you to take the Seventh? He said you turned him down.”

Renji winced.

“Because you told me,” Rukia went on loftily, “ that Souou Zabimaru was much easier to maneuver than Hihiou Zabimaru.”

“Something about how I still had a lot to learn from Captain Kuchiki,” Renji grumbled. “Besides, the Seventh is Iba’s squad. He’s not that far from bankai. I even told Kyouraku I’d help him train for it.”

“It might be awhile before you get another chance,” Rukia pointed out softly.

Renji was stuffing dumplings very aggressively now. “Your brother needs me right now, you know that, even if I wasn’t gettin’ married to the most demanding woman in Soul Society next month. I don’t care that much about making captain. I care a lot about my family.”

Byakuya’s battle with As Nodt had very nearly killed him. At the time, Captain Unohana had predicted that, even if he lived, he would never hold a sword again. He had proved her wrong, of course, trained in the Royal Realm, taken up his haori again. But he wasn’t the same. HIs power was greatly reduced, his endurance as well. He could no longer reach the advanced stages of his bankai. 

Captain Kuchiki was one of the most powerful captains in the Gotei. It would take a strong opponent indeed to press him hard enough to even notice these changes. But Byakuya knew. And his lieutenant, who had finally bested him in battle, knew, too.

Byakuya’s previous strength might still return. It might simply take time. Having an eager young vice-captain– powerful enough to pass the captain’s exam, but lacking the experience, made a convenient cover for delegating combat and other physically taxing duties. Especially now that Byakuya had acknowledged Renji as a protege of sorts, head of a Kuchiki branch family, and promised Byakuya’s own beloved sister, it appeared outwardly that it was the captain supporting his vice-captain, rather than the other way around.

Rukia smiled fondly at the vice-captain in question. “I like you a lot, too, y'know.” She paused thoughtfully. “I don’t have to be a captain, either. It is a lot. I can tell Kyouraku to find someone else.”

“Tch!” Renji huffed. “Someone’s gotta bring glory to our family name. Makes more sense for it to be you, I’m the better cook.” He finished up the last of his dumplings, and put the bowl in the sink. “Although I suppose that puts a wrinkle in that thing we were talking about a minute ago.”

Rukia sniffed. “I don’t see why. We’ll make one right away, I’ll tell the Head Captain I need a year, and then I’ll get down to business after that. You can use the baby as an excuse to stave off any further attempts at promotion. And if Brother keeps trying to overdo it, we can plunk the baby in his lap.”

“Brilliant plan,” Renji assessed. “Zero foreseeable flaws. How many of these you think you can eat with dinner? I’m gonna freeze the rest.”

“One thousand,” Rukia proclaimed.

Renji rolled his eyes as he slid a tray into the freezer. “I have no idea how I am going to keep you fed, assuming I actually manage to knock you up.”

“I believe in you,” Rukia assured him. “On both counts.” She watched him as he continued to clean up. “You’re really on board with all this? You were probably looking forward to a few years of me bending you over the kitchen table as soon as we got home, not late night feedings and dirty diapers, huh?”

Renji finished drying his hands, and he reached over the counter to tip Rukia’s chin up with one finger. “Rukia. As much as I love having rauchy sex in inappropriate places with you– and you know that I do– the thing I’ve been waiting forty-six years for is to be a family, whether that means just the two of us, or us plus however many babies you demand I put in you. I’ve had enough waiting for one afterlife, to be honest.”

“How did you come up with 46?” Rukia frowned. “Forty-six years ago, we were still back in–”

“Don’t do the math,” he implored.

“Okay,” she agreed, smiling at him.

“We’re not gonna start trying before the wedding, though, right?” Renji asked, pulling off his apron. “I’m pretty bad at math, but your brother’s not.”

“I suppose not,” Rukia agreed.

“Then we should squeeze in as much lazy daytime sex as possible while we still can!”

Rukia shrieked gleefully as he ducked around the kitchen island and pulled her off her barstool. 

This was going to work out just fine.

[ckingsbridge]

Coastal Magic Convention Report (1/?)

I’ve received a few asks about how the Coastal Magic Convention went (it was February 20-23 in Daytona Beach). In a word: AWESOME! But for those interested in a more coherent account, I thought I’d write up a full report on my experience. 

It turns out that I have a lot more to say than I’d realized, so I’m going to break this up into a few daily chunks, or it’ll never get finished! Here’s what I’ve got for today:

As many of you know, I’m extremely introverted, and I also tend to have a lot of social anxiety, especially in unfamiliar situations. (Shocking qualities in an author, I know. LOL!) My social skills have vastly improved since childhood, and at this point in my life, I can usually “fake it ‘til I make it” in social situations without problems. But this was also my first convention ever, so I was very, very nervous going in.

Fortunately, during a Skype chat back in October, I’d had the opportunity to meet Jennifer and Dolorianne (the con’s organizers), as well as four readers planning to attend the con. One of those readers - the indescribably wonderful Tina - ended up being the first person I ran into when I stopped by the registration desk on Thursday. She immediately welcomed me with open arms and made me feel so much more at ease. I can’t thank her enough!

That night was a Roaring 20’s-themed welcome mingle. Now, one of the best things about Coastal Magic is that so many of the authors and readers enjoy it so much that they come back year after year. But when you’re the proverbial new kid in school, walking into a huge room full of people who all seem to know each other when you know almost nobody is a straight-up nightmare.

I was kind of hovering awkwardly on the side of the room, pretending I wasn’t totally uncomfortable (you know the move), when I met author Cynthia D’Alba. I don’t know if she realized how uncomfortable I felt or if she was just being naturally friendly, but she invited me to sit at her table and chat. As someone who vastly prefers to listen rather than talk myself, I always appreciate the company of a talkative person, and Cynthia is definitely that! She’s also an experienced convention-goer, so she shared some words of wisdom with me. But what I’m most grateful for is that she rescued me from having to wander the room like the new kid searching for a place to sit in the cafeteria.

The most fun part of the night was when Jennifer brought in a pair of professional dancers from a local dance school. They performed a 20’s-era dance, then invited people up to learn some moves themselves. IMO, doing something active is the best kind of icebreaker - and I also just love to dance, so I jumped right in.

It was super fun - lots of silliness and giggling! There was some shuffling of partners over time, as some people got tired, and I ended up dancing with a woman named Stephanie. It wasn’t until after the dancing exhibition was over that I realized this was the same Stephanie who’d pre-ordered all 6 of my books to pick up at the con’s signing! We hit it off, I chatted with her and her friend Amanda for the rest of the mingle, and we ended up hanging out quite a bit over the course of the weekend.

Panels started on Friday morning. My first one was about the roles of female characters in books with two male leads. This panel topic was actually inspired by that Skype chat in October - it came up during my conversation with the readers, and Jennifer and Dolorianne and I discussed it further afterward. You all know this is a topic near and dear to my heart, and I had a lot to say on the subject. LOL!

We had a great moderator, and my fellow panelists were awesome. They included author Bru Baker, with whom I discovered I had in much in common (including our authorial roots in the Harry Potter fandom). I was pleasantly surprised by how much fun all of the panels were throughout the weekend: a lot of humor and plenty of laugh-out-loud moments mixed in with some great insights. And the readers - again, during all of the con’s panels - were so engaged and asked awesome questions.

After the panel, several people made a point of coming up to tell me that they would never have known it was my first convention if I hadn’t said so. That meant a lot to me, because I was still SO FRICKING NERVOUS. The last time I was this nervous was when I officiated my sister’s wedding! This panel was also when I got to meet my reader Sue, who is an absolutely lovely person and had the kindest things to say. <3

Lunch was an authors-only pizza party, and after that, I got a sweet tooth craving. I headed down to the hotel’s coffee shop - and who should I run into outside, but a table full of all the people I knew best at the convention? I grabbed a Danish from the shop and joined them. Let me just say, it’s incredible (and unprecedented!) how quickly I felt comfortable and welcomed within this group of women. During this conversation, Dolorianne also gave me some great advice on how to decide on which writing project to focus on next.

My afternoon panel was, ironically, called “The Killing Game”. (Pure coincidence!) As you might guess, it was about all of the fun ways to kill off characters. I finally got to meet Jay from the Joyfully Jay blog in person, as she was the moderator, and afterward I met Jeff from the Big Gay Fiction Podcast as well. This may have been my favorite panel of the entire weekend, for the pure mischief of it all!

I had a nice long break for the rest of my afternoon/early evening. Now, one thing you probably don’t know about me is how much I love makeup. Playing and experimenting with makeup is one of my favorite things, and I own so much makeup paraphernalia that I have to pack my actual products in two different travel bags, and then all of my makeup brushes in their own separate third bag.

So you can imagine my reaction when I opened my suitcase upon arriving at the hotel on Thursday and discovered that I had forgotten my bag of makeup brushes at home. *headdesk*

Luckily, I’d brought several differently-sized makeup sponges with me in a different bag (I’m not exaggerating about how much I love makeup), which served in a pinch. But sponges aren’t ideal for eye makeup in particular, so I decided to use my long Friday afternoon break to walk the half-mile to the Walgreens down the street from the hotel and pick up some cheap brushes to tide me over.

No big deal, because I much prefer walking to driving - I constantly miss the days of living in Pittsburgh, when I could easily walk to the corner store, the supermarket, even work. Half a mile is just about the perfect distance for a short walk if you happen to be healthy and able-bodied, and it was also nice and cool outside, since February is one of Florida’s few bearable months.

What I wasn’t expecting was the 25-30 mph winds!

I’m not kidding. The Hilton in Daytona is right on the beach, so walking down the sidewalk outside the hotel meant there was only one layer of buildings between me and these enormous gusts of wind coming straight off the Atlantic Ocean. They were so intense that at times I had to stop walking, plant my feet, and brace myself against getting blown off the sidewalk into oncoming traffic! It was insane, although it did lend a sense of adventure to an otherwise mundane walk.

Anyway, I made it to Walgreens alive and bought a bunch of Wet & Wild makeup brushes for like $1.50 each (they’re barely any different from much more expensive brushes, tbh). Then it was back to the hotel for some downtime while getting ready for… the Jazz Age Murder Mystery Party!

Part 2

[mrsrcbinscn]

Franny’s 30 Day Cover Challenge

Playlist

Franny’s 30 Day Cover Song Challenge: (categories are mostly from here, and here, with some from here, and a couple I made) in September 2020 one of her musician friends challenged her to do the thing and she was like “It seems like a fun way to show everyone what kind of music has influenced me as a musician, singer, songwriter, and just like, person. So I’m going to do it.”

In reality, she recorded most of them in 1-2 days to distract her from how sad she is because Wilbur hates her and he’s sad lmao

It helped a little.

(If you want me to drop the playlist she mentions in #24 let me know, I have it started I can finish it)

TW: mentions of Franny’s political beliefs so tw: politics, an allusion to suicide though the word isn’t directly used, mention of 9/11 and the subsequent invasions...nothing graphic with any of these triggers but worth a forewarning

Day 01 - A song that makes you happy

Honey Spiders by The Parlotones

“The Parlotones are this fantastic indie rock band out of South Africa. And I actually thought about doing their song, uh, Stars Fall Down for day sixteen, but I’m going with Honey Spiders for day 1. There were lots of Parlotones songs, I mean. Push Me to The Floor, We Call This Dancing, Should We Fight Back...but ah, Honey Spiders always puts me in a good mood.”

Day 02 - A song that helps you clear your head

Light of a Clear Blue Morning by Dolly Parton

“I grew up on Dolly, and it’s funny because for the longest time this song wasn’t really on my radar as much as it is now. But when I was twenty-two I was going through something really difficult, and my then-fiance now husband was abroad for work, so I was alone in our apartment and just. Really, profoundly sad and lonely. So I put on a Dolly Parton record and just laid on the bed and Light Of A Clear Blue Morning played and I had a good long cry and felt so much better after that. When I need to think about how to solve a difficult problem, or I feel overwhelmed, I just listen to that song.”

Day 03 - Song you love from a band/artist you hate

Should’ve Been A Cowboy by Toby Keith

“Honestly, he’s called me a nasty lady to my face and I’ve called him a facist enabling pig to his, so I have no qualms openly saying I hate Toby Keith. That being said, Should’ve Been A Cowboy is one of the best country songs of the 90s, undeniably. I loved that song when it came out when I was thirteen, and I still love it.”

Day 04 - A song about drugs or alcohol

Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss

“This is probably cheating, because my lovely best friend Daniel and I cover this a lot at Dara & Danny shows. But today look who I have! My friend Max from Seoul Hanoi’d! Max the Korean Scot who can’t hide his accent to save his life, so let’s see how it sounds in a Scottish accent.”

Day 05 - A protest song

Talking Vietnam Blues by Phil Ochs /// and Here’s to The State of Mississippi by Phil Ochs

“This one was hard because I. Fucking. Love. Protest music. I could have done a whole 30 days of protest music - wow, let me know if I should do that and give my husband a heart attack with all the twitter threats I’ll invite. Huh. Right, so I was going to do Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven by John Prine. But I decided to do two Phil Ochs songs because I don’t think Phil Ochs is talked about enough. It’s a shame we lost him so young. Ochs’ sardonic humor and honesty in his writing has influenced me as a songwriter deeply. When I write political songs, I don’t hold back, and it’s because of Phil Ochs’ writing that I have that courage. I’ve been singing Love Me, I’m A Liberal since I was in college with constantly updating lyrics. It was so hard to even choose which songs of his to do because for his fairly short career his songbook is lengthy and full of gems. I’m Going to Say It Now, Draft Dodger Rag, Spanish Civil War Song, I Ain’t Marching Anymore...I couldn’t pick one so I’m cheating and recording two.”

Day 06 - A song you wish you wrote

When I Think About Cheatin’ by Gretchen Wilson

“I will forever be pissed off that I didn’t write this song. I’m absolute trash for my husband, so it’s never -- I’ve never had to be in a situation to ever consider -- but this song gets me every time. It feels like I could have written it. Because we do spend a lot of time apart travelling for our work. And the sentiment expressed in the song is a little too real.”

Day 07 - A song in a language you don’t speak

Khattar by Khine Htoo

“This will either be a charming attempt to sing in Burmese or I’m about to offend a lot of people. Which, being a politically outspoken woman on the internet, I’m used to anyway. So. 1, 2, 3, okay here goes.”

Day 08 - A song by an artist no longer living

Phop Samnang by Sinn Sisamouth (inspiration)

“Haha, you thought I’d see the name of this category and not do a Sinn Sisamouth song? You were wrong.”

Day 09 - A song you want to dance to at your wedding

Devoted To You by The Everly Brothers

“I’m already married, so this was actually our first dance song at our wedding. Day three of our wedding, like the more Westernized wedding ceremony day. We had a three day long traditional Cambodian wedding and I felt like a princess. An-y-way!”

Day 10 - A song that makes you cry

Borrowed Rooms and Old Wood Floor by Emily Scott Robinson

“Unfortunately, Emily Scott Robinson and I aren’t related. Sad, I know, because she’s so talented. Almost her entire album Traveling Mercies is...sad as hell. The record reminded me of early Dolly Parton, and my second solo album. You know, all those sad-ass songs. The Dress is honestly the song that makes me the saddest but I can’t even listen to it without crying so.”

Day 11 - A song that you love hearing live

Prove My Love  by Violent Femmes

“There is nobody I have seen in concert more than Dolly Parton, but Violent Femmes and George Strait come incredibly close. The Cranberries, the amount of times I saw them in the 90s and early 2000s...close fourth. Probably. The very first concert I dragged my husband to was a Violent Femmes concert, he was not prepared for how hard college me went.”

Day 12 - A song from before 1960 

There Ain’t No Sweet Man That’s Worth The Salt of My Tears by Libby Holman

“This song is from 1928. I came across it when I was in grad school and it’s, as the kids say, a bop.”

Day 13 - A song you think everybody should listen to

White Man’s World by Jason Isbell

“I think perspectives of people of color should of course take precedence in these conversations. But I find this song to be a good faith attempt of a white man coming to terms with the institutional racism and sexism in the world around him. And I think this song can be a useful tool to explain certain concepts of racial justice to ignorant but well-meaning folks. As a woman of color I think Jason Isbell did a great job not centering himself even though it was from his perspective. This song is great musically and necessary socially.”

Day 14 - A song from the 1970s

You’re No Good by Linda Ronstadt

“Linda Ronstadt is grossly underrated, that’s all I have to say here.”

 Day 15 - A song people wouldn’t expect you to like

Racists by Anti-flag

“I mean, I’ve talked about how much I like punk in the past, and I remember a video of Seoul Hanoi’d doing Spanish Bombs at a San Antonio show made the rounds, but I don’t think I’ve talked about how much I like Anti-flag. People don’t expect me to like punk for some reason. But I agree with...everything punk music is all about.”

Day 16 - A song that holds a lot of meaning to you

Blue by LeAnn Rimes

“It’s silly, but I won a county fair singing competition with this song in high school and it really fueled my passion for music, that win. It’s also the first song Cornelius heard me go full Georgia on, with the yodels and all, at the little bar in my hometown on his first trip meeting my parents. The song doesn’t cut to my very soul ot anythin’, but it’s special to me.”

Day 17 - A song attached to a memory

Supernova by Liz Phair

“I remember buying Liz Phair’s Whip-smart album when I was eleven. And in college, when I was getting ready for dates with Cornelius in my dorm room, I would dance around to a CD I burned and wrote on it with a sharpie, ‘Pre-date Movie Scene Music.’ God, what was even on there? I’m about to expose myself as the most basic 1999-2001 bitch. I remember Head Over Feet, I mean, Alanis Morisette? I was a young woman in 2000, obviously I loved her. Mm, Dreams by The Cranberries...oh, Kiss Me, Sixpence None The Richer...yeah, anyway, Supernova was on there.”

Day 18 - A song from the year you were born

Call Me by Blondie

“...I can’t believe Call Me is as old as I am.”

Day 19 - A song that reminds you of someone you miss

Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing (yes, of course she does a cover with banjo)

“This was my late best friend Molly’s favorite hymn. And I sang it at her funeral at her husband’s request. Molly and I grew up together in the small town of Payne Lake, Georgia and Molly was the most devout Christian...but she was also the first person I came out to as bisexual when I was a teenager, and she said that Jesus taught her that love was the greatest commandment and that meant I was automatically twice as good at it as her. Her faith guided her every action but she never talked down on her two best friends - Dan(iel Maitland) and I for not sharing it. Molly was doing the whole emulate Jesus thing beautifully. I miss her every day and it’s been seven years. If you ever think that people won’t miss you...you’re wrong. All right, let’s see if I can get through this without crying.”

Day 20 - A song by an artist you discovered this year

Hello, Anxiety by Phum Viphurit

“I just discovered this quirky Thai-Kiwi singer and not to be dramatic, but he’s my favorite thing in the world right now.”

Day 21 - A song with a city or country in the title

Oh! Phnom Penh (track 20)

“This song was written after the fall of the Khmer Rouge, and after people began to make their way to what was left of their homes, alone, or with what was left of their families. If you want to learn more about what that was like to actually live it, my cousin Reena Boran has a video interviewing her parents and paternal grandfather and uncle about it. Reena is a journalism student currently studying in London but she lives in Cambodia. Her mother is my aunt Malisruot, my mother’s youngest sister. The video is English subtitled on her channel, I’ll link it in the description box below.”

Day 22 - A song from the 1960s

To Sir, With Love by Lulu

“I didn’t actually discover this song until I heard it covered at a 10,000 Maniacs concert in the 90s. My friend Allison was standing next to me and I just started crying and she’s like ‘are you okay?’ and all I just blubbered out ‘My dad!’ For the uninitiated, my dad married my mom, who’d raised me alone until then, when I was six and he adopted me when I was eight. My dad didn’t have to adopt me, he didn’t have to call me his daughter, he could have just been like half of my friends’ stepdads and give me a place to live and nothing else. But my dad was my biggest supporter from day one. He convinced my mom to let me join the dance team and show choir instead of science club, he was the one that talked my mom down from probably killing me when they found out I was only studying music and not music and political science at NYU. I am who I am today because he is my dad. And this song just says everything I’ve always thought about him.”

Day 23 - A song from your childhood

Una Lacrima Sul Viso by Bobby Solo

“But Franny, aren’t you a Cambodian raised in the US? Yes, but you were fooled. My very white father is also an immigrant. He is from Switzerland and while he didn’t teach me to speak Italian and German growing up, he played German, Italian, and French records all the time. My parents often spoke to each other in French and I picked up some French but properly studied it starting in high school, and I didn’t study Italian until college -- and my German is still …. [points to a spot on the screen where she later inserted a card linking to a video on her cousin Köbi Framagucci’s YouTube channel titled ‘Can My American Cousin Speak German?’ where he tests her Standard and Swiss German speaking and comprehension]. But hell if I couldn’t sing every one of the songs from my father’s French, German, and Italian record before I knew what the words even meant.”

Day 24 - A song that gives you chill vibes

Glorify by Ivan & Alyosha

“Dan(iel Maitland) and I actually have an entire playlist on my Spotify accounts of songs to listen to to get us out of writers’ block. And one that I often will put on repeat and just absorb through my headphones with my eyes closed is a song called Glorify by Ivan & Alyosha. I think it touches on a lot of the themes I include in my songwriting. Christian mythology, the darker side of humanity, it often reminds me of what I love about songwriting. If you say please I might drop a link to that playlist.”

Day 25 - A song that’s your signature song

Long Gone Lonesome Blues by Hank Williams“Right, so I chose this instead of a Kitty Wells song or I Get A Kick Out of You (her being

featured on a 2005

recording propelled her career majorly) because if you’re familiar with me you might have seen a video that went around in like….2017? 2016? of Dan(iel Maitland) and I doin’ the song at our hometown bar in 2014. I posted it in response to some tweets because hoes mad when a WOC calls out racism and sexism in the Nashville music industry. ‘Bet she don’t even know Hank’, really? You think I wouldn’t know the history of one of the two music industries I work in? Please. Anyway, she knows Hank and nails the incredibly technical yodel -- the

most difficult

one in Hank’s songbook - in Long Gone Lonesome Blues. Mm...Lovesick Blues though, that also strikes fear into my heart. Anyway stay mad I guess?”

Day 26 - A song by your favorite band

Gun Shy by 10,000 Maniacs

“10,000 Maniacs was one of my favorite bands when I was in like 5th grade through 10th. I listened to them for a little while after Natalie Merchant left for a solo career, but the Natalie Merchant era was really what resonated with me the most. Gun Shy was a bit too advanced for my little 5th, 7th grade ears to really appreciate when I first discovered the album In My Tribe. Merchant’s voice -- because like, I don’t have a very conventional voice either, so her and Dolores O’Riordan really changed my entire perspective on what a woman’s voice can sound like in rock music. Um, yeah, so her voice more than the lyrics just wowed me. And as I got closer to graduating high school and especially in college I actually understood what What’s The Matter Here, Hey Jack Kerouac, and Gun Shy were talking about. Gun Shy...really became a significant song to me because...being born in 1980 I grew up in a relatively peaceful time. The Cold War was all but thawed by my tenth birthday. But I was getting ready to leave my then-boyfriend-now-husband’s apartment for class at NYU on the morning of 9/11. We stood in line for hours to donate blood. And then my government invaded two completely unrelated countries and jingoism and terrifying, fervent nationalism, and xenophobia just smacked me in the face. And friends of mine from high school were convicted to drop out of college and join the Army, and died, for an unjust, imperialist war, and suddenly Phil Ochs, John Prine, and Bob Dylan lyrics hit a lot different, and I understood what Gun Shy was really about.”

Day 27 - A song you hate by an artist you love

Mrs.Robinson by Simon & Garfunkel 

“Paul Simon is one of my favorite songwriters ever, um, and I actually used to like Mrs. Robinson….until I got married and everyone sang it at me. It’s kind of my fault, I did choose to take my husband’s last name. And I leaned into it by making my social media handles all Mrs. Robinson...but still. Only play the song around me if you want to die.”

Day 28 - A song that a younger you would have loved

Mean by Taylor Swift

“I’m so genuinely glad that I am older than Taylor Swift. Middle school Franny did not need Taylor Swift to enable me and fuel my ego. Some of her singles, while not really 35 and 40 year old Franny’s cup of tea, young me would have played until my mother hid the record or cassette from me. Although - fuck if Tim McGraw didn’t immediately give my happily married ass flashbacks to my first love and make me bawl like a baby? Right, so when Speak Now came out and I listened to it, Mean, while not a song that adult me has listened to maybe more like ten times, I immediately thought ‘wow, I needed this song when I was in middle and high school.’ I could literally picture 7th grade me with my little guitar and my little cowboy boots my dad bought for me singing this at the talent show making eye contact with the kids who bullied me as if it was some kind of own when it’s not. I could still, almost thirty years later, name them if I really wanted. So, for 7th grade me, Mean by Taylor Swift.”

Day  29- A song that reminds you of your partner/spouse

ផាត់ជាយបណ្តូលចិត្ / Phat Cheay Bon'dol Chet by Sinn Sisamuth (translation) (female singer covering it) (modern, studio recording of a male and female singer dueting it) (a cool violin cover) (another female singer) (cool guitar cover)

Feat. some members of Seoul Hanoi’d. Andy Chaiyaporn (violin), Max Cho (piano), Jodie Batbayar (cello), Aisulu Niyazova-Li (percussion) and Franny has her guitar

“The song, lyrically, only reminds me of my husband a little bit. But Phat Cheay Bondol Chet has several memories with my husband attached to it. The first time he heard me sing in Khmer was at my mother’s house in Atlanta when I had him visit the first time to meet my parents. My mom had a little dinner party at our house to show him off, like Asian moms do when they think their daughter snags a good one, and I was hand washing the dishes while my mom and the other Cambodian parents were listening to Sinn Sisamuth records. I’ve always loved the song I’ll be showing y’all today, like I’ve always just stopped what I was doing and -- so it came on and I just started singing along without really being aware of it. And then at a different diaspora get together that summer, that song came on and I just kinda. Pulled him aside to the side yard of that person’s house to look at the stars with him and translated the song. It’s one of the Khmer songs he instantly recognizes now, so it’s special.”

Franny did NOT say in the video that college her 100% had him sit in the grass with her outside that person’s house, where nobody could see, so she could makeout with him 

 Day 30- A song by one of your favorite songwriters

Reincarnation by Roger Miller

Feat. Seoul Hanoi’d, done more in the style of the Cake cover 

Also instead of singing the lyric “you’re a girl, I’m a boy” she goes “you’re a girl, so am I” because she doesn’t ever change pronouns, she just makes it gay because she is a bi-con

“Roger Miller, to me, is as important as Dolly Parton, Paul Simon, Bob Dylan, in the American songbook. He’s not as talked about which is a shame because his discography is iconic. Getting to be a part of King of The Road was one of the highlights of my career.”

[yayninjabob]

A story behind a story

I have never wrote 100,000 words of anything in my life and 9 months ago when I first sat down to write Villain: Redux I definitely did NOT anticipate the length it would reach by the end of Part I. Now that it is done though I feel like I can talk about it.  Well not really the story but the story behind the story?  

A very lengthy and personal author's note for Part I: Remote Control

How I started writing again: My relationship with my writing was non existent for years.  I honestly went through a very long drought where I felt like everything I created just sucked so bad and I had zero motivation for creating shit.  I would talk with my therapist or my wife and friends about feeling so out of touch with my creative side and feeling pretty lost without it.  Really, I pretty much felt like it was dead forever.  I eventually started a personal journal again... And little drabbles here and there would come to mind... It felt alright but meh. "What did you enjoy about writing that you still feel is missing?" I was asked. Ffffffuck me I dont know.  Writing as a teen and in my early twenties wasn't something I ever thought about even when I did it every damn day of my life.  I guess I missed having that ongoing plot in the back of my head that I could escape to whenever life was lame. Daydreaming crazy stories as a kid was just my favorite past time and writing went with it.  But I just didnt have any more stories in my head. Nothing new or exciting enough at least. Anyways. January was my dads bday.  2019 and that year my dad asked for something.  Now my dad isn't one to ask for gifts. No, normally he is extremely frustrating and expects everyone to read his mind while saying "I dont care" yet if his gifts dont meet his secretive expectations he gets all butthurt and emo and says that nobody knows him.  Ok but January 2019 he asks me to write him something.   "What?  A story?  A poem?  A birthday card?" "I dont care just write me something." Typical. "I dont care."  Yeah right.  What the hell does he expect from me jeez.... My dad was the OG storyteller in my life- real shit or bullshit- he could spin a crazy story like no one else. My uncles and his friends would sit around smoking and drinking and listening to one wild tale after the next.   He could entertain people for HOURS just with the shit he’d say.  I always thought he'd make a brilliant stand up comedian but my dad would just laugh at the idea. So for his gift I figured I'd retell one of his personal wild tales - his first encounter with a mountain lion at 12 during a hunting trip with my late great uncle Joe who was his adoptive father figure.  Honestly my dad was always so incredibly descriptive and I heard that tale about a bazillion times growing up, and even though he hadnt shared it in probably 15+ years, it was easy to recall. I could just close my eyes and see it clear as day.  I stayed loyal to his story but I used my own words.  It really surprised me how easy I found those words though.  Writing had been such an impossible challenge for so long yet when I finished the short story I had written 12 pages in a single afternoon and I was shocked but in a good way.  It was his story so I was pretty sure he would like it. He's got a pretty big ego lol. I typed it up on the typewriter my dad had gotten me back when I was a teen and serious about becoming a "real writer."  I figured he would appreciate that.  I gave him the story on his birthday.  He didnt read it right away. We went to the backyard and the two of us shared a joint and while I started chasing the dogs in the yard for a bit I saw he finally picked the story up. And when he finished he started crying. Which is always weird when it's your dad right?  He isn't one to cry easily. Last time I saw tears in his eyes was three years prior at my wedding but even that wasnt like this.  He told me "You need to write again.   You need to try." But I still felt like I couldn't. I never really thought I was good at it anyway.  Sure, people told me they liked my writing and it meant a lot that my dad was moved so much by my short story that I started to believe “hey maybe I can write,” but... I dunno.  I had a rough idea for an original novel that I sat down with later that month and tried to work out... But it just felt forced and uninteresting.  It wasnt a story my mind could just escape to effortlessly.  The passion just wasnt there. After a while my wife suggested to me "Well when you retold your dad's story that was easier right?  Maybe you should retell another story that you love." And so in August 2019 I sat down and wrote what would eventually become the scarring scene for Villain: Redux

Part I:  Remote Control I spent the rest of August, September and October slowly falling back into my old world of Villain.  I reread both Villain and VillainE for the first time in yeeeeeears.  What. A. Trip. So much stood out to me that was like "Ok young me, I see where you were going but this could be so much better."  I made my list of what I liked and what I wanted to change.. Constructed my outline and then I just went for it.   Halloween night that year was spent finishing my first draft of chapter 1.  It was still in Buttercup's limited POV.  I liked it OK enough but I wondered if it would be improved if I tried third person instead.  I said "fuck it why not" and went for it again but in third person, adding the beginning history of Townsville and then the opening scene with Mojo.   When I finished it I was pretty amused with it and I found myself just starting right away on chapter 2 and adding even more details to my overall outline- it became a trilogy.  It was flowing SO easy and for once writing didnt feel like some forced chore I was performing.   The entire time though I debated whether or not to share any of it.  I didn't think anyone would read it.  But personally, I was falling in love with my new rendition and I really didn't want to stop writing it. So once again I said "fuck it why not" and I started this tumblr to start documenting my new commitment to rewriting Villain for good.  I edited the first chapter and uploaded it a couple days before Thanksgiving. And the support I got from readers honestly made me cry haha... I really really thought the story would go unnoticed.  After all, when I first started writing for the PpG fandom it was always an uphill battle and 90 percent of my first reviews were just flames and criticism.  The original Villain really took a while to gain much of a readership and even though it had its moment of somewhat popularity in the fandom, that moment came after it was completed. A brief glance at the PpG section on FFnet showed me that things really hadnt changed- still 99 percent PpGxRrB romances.  Man, it just seemed so unfair. I freaking love this show and TBH I will never understand the fandom's fixation on those damn Rowdyruffs.  Whatever.  It is what it is.  But because of that and because I hadnt been an active writer in the fandom for like a decade I really thought I'd be lucky to get one review.   And I did!  On the first day!  And I was PUMPED lol.   Then over the next couple of days I got more and most from names I recognized from the past!  I was so touched by some of the things you guys said, you will have no idea what those first 7 reviews meant to me.  And of course the reviews to follow throughout the next chapters only continued to motivate me further. And now I'm done with Part I.  Jeez what a freaking journey.  I feel like I've learned a lot though and I hope that the story only improves from here.   Today, this story invades my subconscious more than I would like to admit.  But.  It is so nice to have an exciting story to escape to once more.  And I feel like I can say that my creative drive is finally restored again which feels amazing.  Who knew it would be this rewrite of all things to do it. So yeah.  I owe the biggest thanks to my readers (the reviewers especially), my wife, and of course my dad.   I know we are just at the beginning of this story, but personally I just feel like I've accomplished more than I could've imagined already... like I said... 100,000 words is something I’ve never done before lol.  And I cant wait to share the rest of the story with everyone.   Anyways that’s my long soppy backstory on how I decided to rewrite Villain.  Thanks for reading. :)

[shuuenka-writes]

Twilight Zone [2.]

Pairing: Harada Sanosuke x Reader

Summary: For better or for worse you were entangled in a “more than friends less than lovers” zone for as long as you could remember.  But can words be left unspoken forever?

A/N: This is probably the most self-indulgent thing I wrote in my life and I wrote a tons of it before. Alas, nobody deserves Harada. Also I have another fic idea for Harada, but I'm already so busy ahhh....I hope you enjoy

___********________

'If you got married would you like to be spoiled like a princess?"

"Shinpachi-san, why do you always ask the most random questions?"

You weren't even a part of this conversation in the first place, and honestly you had literally no idea what Shinpachi could have meant.

The day of yours started as usual. You brewed your gradfather a tea and made a breakfast for you. You ate in usual silence. Mostly because your grandfather was half deaf and talking to him would involve raising your voice. But it wasn't an unpleasant atmosphere – in fact it was quite enjoyable. Silent morning before hustle of daily work. Also because today there was a couple coming in to talk about wedding kimono design, for which you were excited. But the fact remained that you worked with few brides before and they could be exhausting.

Before the couple arrived you went through the letters that arrived. Most of which were strictly business related. But one of them made you extra happy. It was a letter from your friend, quite unconventional one. Hana-chan was an courteasan at Shimabara and ever since you made a few kimonos for her, she kept talking with you through letters. Since she couldn't leave the red light district the only way for you two to talk was through the letters or once in a while your visits to fetch new kimono. You skimmed over the letter and quickly replied. She wished for new kimono and if you were honest embroidering courtesan kimonos was one of your favorite things to do. You could go all out with finesse and glamour to make every new kimono even more outstanding that the earlier. Of course, it took time, blood and sweat to finish one, but in all honesty the satisfaction was worth it. Also it meant, that you'd be able to see Hana face to face after almost a year of just writing letters.

You hadn't expected the Shinsengumi appearing. Today at least. The infamous trio and the new addition to the team made themselves home just as you were talking with the future bride.

They were here to see how your work on the Shinsengumi haori was going. Right. The very reason you were even involved with the Wolves of Mibu was the fact that your shop provided the haori's for the soldiers. Few years ago, as they appeared in Kyoto they made a request at your grandfather shop for a bunch of blue haori's. As your shop was quite well known, it was only natural for them to come here. Even if at main shop only you and your grandfather worked, you had a few other shops and workspaces throughout Kyoto. It was better than just keeping it all in one closed space, and besides – your home was in the back.

At that time your neither you or grandfather knew what kind of people they were and readily agreed to the offer. Well, later your grandfather came to have rather unpleasant opinion on them, but in all honesty you didn't harbor any bad feelings towards the Shinsengumi. Might have it been innocence and naivety of yours that allowed you to become friends with some of them. And you didn't regret in slightest.

And now they requested for haori's but inverted colors. Night uniform's as you heard. Your grandfather agreed, although with some recultance. He was a follower of shogunate, that much was true, but just as any civil from Kyoto he was apprehensive to idea of bunch of not-really-samurai's going around the city. Money is what got him agree.

As you mulled over the idea you turned to your guests, ''I need to stay in the back for a while, so I guess you guys can just sit and wait, until I'm finished," you said to your guests. ''I got bride waiting for me!"

''Sure!" Harada waved at you.

The guests were left to their own business and in all honesty, what were they to do alone in dressmaker shop?

''Humm, so many couples going around lately," Shinpachi hummed.

''Are you jealous?" Heisuke teased, sitting down on the bench.

''What would I be jealous about?" he snarked, as if Heisuke was spouting utter nonsense.

Harada laughed a bit and chimed in, ''You wouldn't know how to get a wife in a first place."

''I'm perfectly capable of getting myself a wife," came a swift reply.

''He means one not from Shimabara and for one night," the youngest of the three said.

Shinpachi sent him a small glare. One person that still haven't said anything was Chizuru. She honestly had no idea why she tagged along with them, other that it was probably good idea to see if her father maybe appeared. She was also curious about this person who owned the shop. She met her only once, when the woman patched her sleeve few weeks ago. She seemed to be rather familiar with the men and not in slightest apprehensive to them.

''And also,'' Heisuke continued. ''I don't think you'd know how to treat your wife."

"Cut it off already Heisuke," Shinpachi replied, impatience slipping into his voice.

''Why do you think so?" Chizuru piped in. She was tad bit curious.

Heisuke smiled back at her.

''Take Sano for example," he pointed at red head, who instantly raised his brews at him. Why did this conversation was still ongoing seemed beyond him. ''His wife would be spoiled and treated as princess."

"Oh," Chizuru nodded her head. It seemed probable.

''Why would you spent so much money on a woman though?" Shinpachi chimed in, his arms crossed on his chest. He didn't look entirely clueless, as the two others made him seem to be.

''All women deserve being spoiled and treated with respect, Shin," Harada said with conviction.

Shinpachi hummed, not convinced about being spoiled part. He turned to Chizuru and asked her whether or not she'd like to be pampered like so. Her face went a tad bit pinkish at the proposition.

''Not at all, it would be too much," she said, her usual humble demeanor playing out.

Out of the second room sound of voices increased. It seemed the business talk was coming to an end.

On your side of happenings you shared a tea with the couple and talked about the wedding kimono. You showed them a few sketches of various kimonos you kept in your drawer. The bride was quick to decide which one would she like, with few adjustments. After this you said goodbye to the couple and shared a goodbye at the doors.

Smiling you sat down by your guests with a sketchbook in your hands.

''You look excited,'' Harada noticed, nibbing at the dango they all ate.

''I am!" you nodded. ''It's been awhile since I made a wedding kimono, especially one with embroidery," you showed him the sketchbook. There was a drawing of a woman kimono with cranes in the lower part of material. ''Its' going to be really pretty!"

Harada nodded to your enthusiasm. You always appreciated that he would listen and be generally encouraging to you. You didn't have much people to talk that would listen to you gushing about such trivial matters. There was your childhood friend Kiyo and his twin sister Kino that would visit you once in a while. But Kiyo couldn't be bothered with seams and only Kino was happy to talk with you. And all excitement couldn't be possibly converted into letters to Hana.

You mentally started preparing your shop list as you stood up and went for a measurement string. You sat down behind Harada and reached under his arms.

''Raise your arms for me, please," you chirped. He sent you a questioning look, the same that his companions shared. ''I didn't take your measurements for a while, and since new batch of Shinsengumi haori's is coming, I want to make some adjustments."

''Oh, I see," he nodded. ''But can't you do a standard measurement?"

"You are my standard."

Harada chuckled at your words. You took the measurements and wrote them down. Also a tiny idea lit up in your mind, but you stored it for later.

''Hmm," you tapped your cheek as you finished. You listed items you'll need for the wedding kimono aloud, ''I think I'll have to make a trip downtown then."

''For the material? Don't they bring it to you?" Heisuke piped in.

''They do, but it's better to do an order yourself," you replied. "Also, there is a pretty shop with obi ornaments and they sell there nice ribbons!"

You clapped your hands. You liked to make orders yourself, mostly because you could go through the city and look what shops and crams had in store. Even if you never bought any for yourself, you just liked to browse through all the pretty things. Sometimes women who bought kimono's from your shop would come for an advice so this way you also could be helpful.

''Would you like a ribbon from there, _____?" Harada asked.

''Hm? No, no. It's not for me," you laughed. ''I want them for the bride."

"It seems you hardly buy yourself pretty things though."

You looked up at him in curiosity, ''do I? I'm already surrounded by pretty things."

You didn't lie – all around on the shelves going up to the ceiling there were elaborate materials in all every color one could want. Patterned kimonos, plain, embroidered. Obi stashes and some ribbons. All what you'd wish to wear was here. Pretty and glamorous things.

''But what of it is yours?"

You looked over at your shop. Your gaze fell onto small aquarium with a single golden fish inside. It was your grandfathers fish. You never thought your pet would be goldfish, but you loved the animal anyway. You were never allowed to have any pet for yourself. Your grandfather hated cats and dogs altogether. Birds were also out of question, since they would leave mess after themselves. This fish previously belonged to your uncle, brother of your mother. Since he moved to Edo, he left the pet behind and you were one to take care of it. Well, as much as you can take care of a fish.

Pretty thing, living just by eating and flowing through the threads of time, not seeing much of the world. Surrounded by many other pretty things.

''I have my box of pins and needles,'' you offered. Harada rolled his eyes. You shrugged in reply and sipped your tea. It was enough that this little box was precious to you.

You looked over at the other three, and what surprised you was intense gaze Shinpachi was giving you. Your brew rose unintentionally, and the question of his was fired, leaving you truly baffled.

''If you got married would you like to be spoiled like a princess?"

"Shinpachi-san, why do you always ask the most random questions?" you managed after a moment. Harada had a moment of mental crisis as he run over his hand through his red locks.

You were far from thinking of marriage, no matter how much Kiyo's mother was hinting things at you. You thought of other people of marriageable age and you instantly thought of Kino. True, you saw Shinpachi once talking to her. But for her to leave such a impression on him was unheard of.

''Do you have a woman in mind?" you asked cautiously. Would Kino accept him? You doubted so.

''What? Of course not!" Shinpachi waved his arms. He looked a tad bit flustered, especially since Heisuke was already beginning to laugh.

''Is it Kino?" you asked bluntly.

''Oh my gosh, _____, please," Harada snorted.

''Who?" Shinpachi looked lost.

You gave him a stern look, ''I'm sorry Shinpachi-san, but I don't think Kino would be interested in marrying you."

''I don't want to marry anyone!"

''Shinpachi,'' Harada turned to him, ''only you can be rejected even before asking."

Honestly speaking, you had no idea what was going on. But it was always like this, wasn't it? Shinpachi or Heisuke shooting some random questions, your blunt answers, and Harada's quips. You were always thankful for their presence and making your daily life so enjoyable. You never imagined that you could have friends like this.

''So do you need help tomorrow?" Harada turned to you, evoking your conversation, before it was cut.

''I'm just going to take a look and order materials," you replied.

''Great, then I'm tagging along."

''Are you sure you don't have anything else to do?" you asked. One would think they'd be more busy.

''I don't have rounds tomorrow, so I'm free."

''Could be fun," you concluded, giving him a nod.

To your surprise Harada actually came next morning. Not that you'd think he was dishonest, but you two never went out together. Other than sometimes accidental meeting up in the city or him just coming by to stop by your shop. By that time you thought you actually knew most of 10th division, which was kinda hilarious in its own way. Bunch of scary looking samurai off or on duty sometimes calling out 'good morning' to you was really startling for you at the beginning.

"Hi!" you breathed as you saw him outside your doors.

''Ready to go?"

''Yes!"

Overall it was quite an experience to see Harada without his Shinsengumi haori in broad daylight. There was no one tugging around with him – you expected Shinpachi or Heisuke alongside. To your delight he was alone. Not that you minded presence of those two, but a premise of spending morning with Harada sent butterflies in your stomach. And this was a feeling you were gladly welcoming.

You walked side by side, step in step with each other. You couldn't help but appreciate the nice weather that accompanied you. Slowly city was waking up along with all sweet and sour smells that would hit your nostrils.

You glanced over at Harada, his auburn hair swaying in the soft wind. He was in good mood, you decided, seeing his gentle smile upon his lips. His smile was something that you liked the most. Especially if any of those smiles were directed at you.

You reached your destination way too quickly for your dismay. The shop you walked into was enormous – twice as big as yours. The clerk knew you very well, so the order went by quickly and you had time to share with Harada.

One thing that caught your attention was a kimono. Not kimono itself, but the pattern and embroidery. It was a sea. You walked closer to it and looked at the vast ocean-blue material. The threads flowed like a water on it, creating a waves of blue and white. Small flowers were added alongside, making it almost a landscape.

''You like it?" Harada appeared behind you, surprising you a bit.

''I like the pattern," you replied still looking at the kimono. ''I would love to see the sea someday. Harada-san, have you ever been at sea?"

He tapped his chin as he hummed, ''We arrived to Kyoto with ships, so yes.''

''Tell me about it," your eyes lit up.

You slowly walked out of the shop and onto the street, as Harada recounted his travel by the sea.

''It must've been such a beautiful sight,'' you sighed in wonder.

Sea was always a mystery to you. You've seen pictures, you heard the stories; but living in this part of Kyoto you had no chances to be able to see it. It made you wonder what did it mean to soak your toes in salty water, how would it be to walk alongside vast and never-ending seashore. What did the seagulls sounded like?

''It is, especially on sunset, when the suns goes over the horizon," Harada quipped. ''I'd love to take you there someday."

He walked over a stand with hair accessories and ribbons. You followed him, yet still in daydream about the sea. He picked up one of the ribbons and moved his hand towards your face. You followed his movement with a curious gaze.

He smiled down at you, and with such closeness, your height difference was apparent. He tied ocean-blue ribbon into your hair to your utter surprise.

''What are you doing?" you questioned, your heart fluttering.

''You wished for nice ribbons yesterday, did you not?"

Your eyes widened.

''Ah, it was just passing remark,'' you spoke, untying the ribbing from your hair. You kept it in your hands as you continued to speak, in spite of his confused gaze, ''I'm not in need of them, but thank you for the gesture."

''Does it matter whether or not you need one?" he asked stopping your hand from putting the ribbon back on the stand. His warm hand enveloped your smaller one.

''At shop I have few, looking at them is just enough," you managed.

''You should spoil yourself much more," he stated. ''it's a present from me, you won't accept it?"

You pursed your lips a bit. It wasn't like you didn't like it, but somehow your mind worked differently. You spoke up, ''can I really?"

''Of course.''

This was sweet of him, and that much you told him. You hardly got presents, there weren't many people to give you any in the first place. You were creator, not receiver. But well, the warmth his gesture caused to spread was feeling one in a million.

''Harada-san?''

''Yeah?"

"Thank you," you said. His smile spread, as he paid for the item that he once again tied into your hair. Were it a sweet food, a ribbon or anything he'd give you, you'd be happy just as much as you were now. Harada was truly making your daily life happier.

Yet next time you saw him you didn't anticipate, than you'd be accompanying him to Shimabara.