#on the bright side the motivation to go back & finish like money on a bad bet has never been stronger

[plusultraetc]

I'm finally being brave and watching the rest of season 7 and I've teared up three times during the eight episodes I've watched this week and outright cried once 🫠

[fictionalreads]

This Was Never Meant to Be What It Feels Like (Part 2)

A/N: Soooooo I couldn't help myself. Ya'll really showed me love on part one and it encouraged me to write this part. I'll admit this isn't my favorite piece of writing but it's necessary cause it sets up part 3😅 Give me a few days at least for that one though. Hope y'all like it. 18+/Minors DNI

Part 1 Part 3

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Original Female Character

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Song I listened to while writing: Back To Love by Robert Glasper featuring SiR and Alex Isley.

Prompt: It's been six months since Armando left Shay but things feel unfinished for him.

Warnings ⚠️: Talk of smut (y'all I can't write that shit, I tried and it was trash so I just talk around it)

Armando was only supposed to be in LA for a couple days. He was still a wanted man and he didn’t exactly enjoy putting himself at risk of being caught, but it was unavoidable. A contact had needed a job done and since being on the run, he wasn’t afforded the option of being picky when it came to money. Besides, Martinez had been helpful in getting him jobs so he considered the extra risk a favor.

Nobody wanted to work with a snitch. 

It didn’t matter that the feds had him serving life and he was just trying to survive, hopefully shave off enough time to not die in a cell. He was a rat and had nothing but enemies on both sides. Mierda, his parents had really screwed him over. His mother had ensured he would always be seen as a criminal and his father had ensured every criminal saw him as a traitor. He was destined for a life of solitude. 

Then he met Shay.

He had been eating at a restaurant frequented by his target, canvassing the place, when he heard her laugh. Usually he would ignore other patrons as he did his job but there was something so uninhibited about the sound that it captivated him. He looked up to find the source and saw her head thrown back in obvious joy, curly hair flowing freely behind her. Her eyes were damn near shut, smile big and bright. 

He was in LA for work but a little play never hurt anybody so he had his waitress send a drink to her and watched as he was pointed out. She lifted the drink he sent in a silent thanks and he raised his glass back, nodding at her with a smirk. He was aware when she had left and he finished his own meal and work soon after. He was unsurprised to find her waiting outside for him. That was the beginning of them.

He had thought once he had slept with her, they would both be satisfied and she’d be out of his system. A win-win situation, truly. But there was something about her that had him acting stupid. After he took care of Martinez’s problem, he laid low for a week, letting the heat die down. When it was safe enough to go back to Mexico, he just…didn’t. Instead he went and found her. He expected to have to work for it seeing as he left in the middle of the night and didn’t call for a week, but she let him back in.

So instead of going home like he should have, like he would have if he was smart, he stayed for her. He knew he should get the hell outta dodge, but he wanted to know her. So he called Martinez and picked up a couple more jobs he needed done out in LA and the surrounding area. When he wasn’t working he learned everything about her like it was his job, careful to never give her any real information, steering the conversation back to her every time. He was enchanted by her beauty, enthralled by her passion. Everything he learned about her got him closer to that dreaded L word.

Then he fucked up.

It had been three months of playing this dangerous game when she asked about him. He kew the day would come eventually when she wouldn’t allow him to just brush off her questions but he was somehow still unprepared and suspicious of her motives when it came. She had asked to know about his parents and he should’ve just fed her some bullshit story but he just got quiet. He realized he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know him, the real him, and still choose him. So he had told her an edited version of his parents, only to immediately realize his mistake. He didn’t want to, but he was going to have to leave.

So after fucking out his feelings, he left. He went back to Mexico and told himself to forget about her. Except he couldn’t get her out of his head. For six months he was constantly reminded of her. Every woman that flirted with him was compared to her, every one of them coming up short. Every time he smelled shea butter and coconut, he thought of her freshly showered. Every time he needed a release, he pictured her blissed out face, his hand not nearly as good as the real thing. So he did something even dumber than staying in LA for three months.

He went back.

He watched her for a few days, Shay never knowing he was there. He watched as she went out with friends. He watched as they encouraged her when some fucker had the audacity to step to her and flirt. He watched as she went on a date with the man. A better man would have taken that as a sign that she had moved on and he should too, but he never claimed to be a better man. He watched as she gave restricted smiles, restricted laughs and came to the conclusion that this ‘date’ wasn’t doing it for her.

So he left them at the basic ass restaurant the guy chose and went to her apartment to wait for her. He found his way inside like he used to and set up on her armchair, turning on her lamp so as not to completely scare her. He waited almost an hour before he heard her keys in the door.

She clocked the light being on the second she walked in the door. 

To prevent her from running and calling the cops because she didn’t know it was him, he spoke, “hola Amorcita.”

“Armando?” She question in disbelief.

He stood and took in his fill of her before telling her what he’d been thinking all night, “you look beautiful. Nice night?”

She shut the door behind her and cautiously stepped past the kitchen to reach the living room. She was still too far, standing at the edge of her breakfast bar across the room. Why wouldn’t she come closer? On one hand, she could be pissed that he left her for six months. Something told him it wasn’t that though. If she was pissed she wouldn’t be trying to keep herself as far from him as possible, as if out of reach. No, instead she’d probably get close enough to slap him. A heartbreaking realization hit him. “Are you afraid of me now, Amorcita?”

Shay stood tall, facing him head on. “Your rap sheet says I should be,” she bit out.

There it was. The confirmation she knew who he was now, that there would be no more hiding behind omissions of truth. He tilted his head in contemplation, “that’s not what I asked.” Was she not phased by who he was? Or was she just biding her time?

When she didn’t say anything else, he slowly walked to her. He could feel the energy in the room shift and amplify. He still wasn’t sure if she was gonna knee him and run or invite his touch. He wasn’t sure if he could take the betrayal from her, but he would understand. Any sane person would run from the likes of him.

When he stood mere inches from her he ghosted his fingers over her arm, noticing her intake of breath. “Are you afraid of me now, Amorcita?” He repeated, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Shay looked up, her eyes meeting his, “no.”

“Maybe you should be,” he brokenly admitted.

She lifted a hand to cradle his face, “You’ll never hurt me that way.” She said it so surely, as if she could see into him, see his soul. There was no doubt in her voice, her sureness both a surprise that she felt that way and a relief that she understood.

It didn’t escape his notice, however, that she was very distinct in her words. He may not have hurt her physically but he had hurt her all the same.

“I’m sorry for leaving, Alma.” He turns his head to place a kiss on her palm.

She gave him a slight smile. “I get why you did.”

“Doesn’t mean it hurt you any less or make me any less sorry.” He placed his hands on her waist, pulling her even closer, her hands going around his neck. Her scent took over his senses, clouding his thoughts.

She didn’t refute what he said, just reached up to press her lips gently against his in a quiet acceptance. When she pulled back he stared into her eyes, wondering if this was real, wondering how she could be real. He saw nothing but the love he wished he could keep. Unable to stop himself, he drew her in for a longer more passionate kiss. It was slow as if they had all the time in the world, or rather if time and the rest of the world didn’t exist. He hoped she felt the words he couldn’t say aloud.

He felt her hands stop their playing in his short hair and move towards his shirt buttons. Before she got to the first one, he pulled back and held her hands in his own, needing to tell her, owing her and her loving heart the truth.

“I can’t stay.”

Eye to eye, love and determination shining bright in hers, she whispered, “I know.”

From there, clothes shed quickly and they made their way to the bedroom. They both knew this was a goodbye, closure for them both. Their last attempt at an ending had felt lacking, like there was more to be said. This time it was all laid out in front of them. Emotions may not have been said but they were felt and known, the reality of their situation acknowledged.

This time they would both take what they needed, giving them a more satisfying conclusion.

After she fell asleep he fixed his gaze on her white ceiling, wishing things could be different for them, wishing he could stay and give her the life she deserved rather than a few memories she’ll hopefully look back on with fondness. He allowed himself a few minutes more of wishful thinking and soaking in the feeling of being with her. When it came time to leave, he hated himself for it, but he laid her on the bed and quietly collected his things. Finding a pen and a scrap piece of paper, he scribbled out a note for her, leaving it where he should have been laying next to her. He spared one last look at her before leaving her for good this time.

If you ever need anything, find Detective Mike Lowrey. Miami PD.

-A

A/N: How we feeling about this part? Let me know what your favorite line was in the comments! Don't be shy with the comments and reblogs, they motivate me. Likes are appreciated too!

Translations:

Mierda - Shit/Damn

Amorcita - Little Love

Alma - Soul/soulmate

Taglist: If you request to be on the taglist, you're agreeing that you're 18 or older.

@yeahnohoneybye

[jenojaemssss]

nct dream as your boyfriend

nct dream x gn!reader

fluffy boyfriend!nct dream headcanons because it's 2 am and i'm all up in my head <3 also because i have no motivation to work on dont need it and am holding it off as much as i possibly can before finalizing it <3

lee mark

just the softest boy

we already know he really enjoys playing the guitar

so i feel like he’s the type to wake up at like 3 in the morning with a melody in mind

like he wakes up in cold sweat because he has such a good idea and he CANNOT forget it

he’d record a snippet of it and send it to you after he perfects it

but this is rare because he’d rather hear your reaction

mark isn’t the type to facetime; he’d rather just call you or just come over to see you in person

so a lot of the time you’d get an incoming phone call

at 3 in the morning

because he forgets the time when he’s immersed in his craft

and because it’s a phone call, he can’t see you squinting at your phone

but you’d try your best to not make it obvious that you were already asleep

and then he’d go on and on about how he was in the middle of writing something and thought about you

his voice literally just wakes you up because he’s so excited over his creation

“ready to hear it?”

and after playing it for you he’d have the widest, goofiest smile on his face

he’d be so proud of yourself after you give him a personal round of applause

but his grin doesn’t stay on for long because there’d be banging on his wall from his housemates telling him to shut up

this happened so often that they don’t even have to say anything, just forcefully tap their wall and he’d get the hint

usually then, he’d finally realize how late-or technically, early- it was getting

“ah shit, fuck were you sleeping when i called?”

and you’d just chuckle because he’s so damn cute

and then you’d remind him how much you love and enjoy his hobby

and how it makes you happy getting to listen to him play his guitar

“you do know you don’t have to pick up, right?”

but you’d just smile even wider and he could hear it over the phone and he’d smile too

your smile is so endearing to him

and when he was the reason you’re smiling, it sends him through the clouds

because how could HE be the cause of such a beautiful smile

“hey, baby?”

“yeah, mark?”

“i love you.”

and you’d giggle so hard because he still gives you butterflies

“i love you, too, mageolli.”

“bro, did hyuck teach you that?” he squeaks

another bang on his wall makes him jump and he ends up whispering to you for about another hour

huang renjun

this man loves to read, so whenever he’s reading a book he really likes, he’d annotate it with the intentions of giving it to you

sometimes he’d highlight funny things and write little notes like “this made me laugh and i thought you’d like it too”

so fucking endearing let me tell you

and when he comes across romantic lines, he’d highlight them in pink and write little notes on how it reminded him of you

when he’s done with the book and gives it to you, you’d find cute little highlighted portions with notes and messages directed for you

sometimes, he’d write you cute little messages on the inside cover, kind of like an introduction to his annotations

he’d also write a mini introduction to the content of the book, but in his own cute way

“i found this book really funny (those funny scenes are highlighted in yellow) and there were a lot of scenes where the interactions between the two main characters reminded me of you and i, so those are highlighted in purple”

and a bunch of other notes related to his annotations

the back cover has a mini summary and all his personal thoughts after finishing the book

“could they BE anymore stupid? he should have confessed to her when…” and many more angry-renjun reactions

there was one time he was reading pride and prejudice and came across this line

“in vain i have struggled. it will not do. my feelings will not be repressed. you must allow me to tell you how ardently i admire and love you.”

he was about to pull out his highlighter and smear the bright pink across it but pauses

and then he just slams the book closed because he remembers how much of an asshole mr. darcy was in this book

and how much he hated pride and prejudice

he was only reading it again because you asked him to read it with you

the two of you often picked out your favorite books and had the other one read it and discuss it with each other after you both finished

kind of like a personal book club

this time around you picked this wretched book and he was not having it

but then you pulled out the puppy eyes

he gagged in front of you and asked that if he’d read it with you, you wouldn’t pull that shit again

internally he loved it, he just doesn’t like showing it physically

anyways, after slamming the book shut he stood up from the couch but was so pissed off with the fucking book that he called you

“babe, why is lizzy so fucking idiotic?”

you’re just as confused as he is, but for a totally different reason

“i know we’re supposed to discuss when we’re finished but i just cannot read this book anymore.”

lee jeno

the type of boyfriend that has a really hard time expressing his feelings in words

so he’d show it in his actions instead

his love language is most likely physical touch

but at the same time he seems like the type to not enjoy too much physical affection in public

yet he still needs to be touching you: always

just small gestures to keep in physical contact with you

it reassures him that you’re still there

in public, he’d make an effort to hold pinkies

like he’d interlock them when you’re walking around the grocery store or just when you go on walks together

oh yeah, jeno really likes walks

like when the two of you are having a really rough day or when you’re both just not in the best mood, he’d ask to go on walks to clear your minds

it’s his way of telling you that he’s there for you

on the rough days, instead of holding your pinky, he’d intertwine your hands instead

and when you guys argue over things and he doesn’t know what to say, he’d leave the room for a bit so that you don’t say things you don’t really mean to each other

jeno is a good man, he was raised right

so he KNOWS when he’s at fault

and when he realizes what he’s done and takes all the things you say into consideration, you’d hear the sink running or the vacuum turn on

he’d clean your apartment for you as an apology

back to the physical touch aspect of him

rare *public* back hugs here and there but only around people he’s comfortable with

but when you’re alone??

he would literally CLING onto you, personal bubble does not exist to this man

wraps his arms around your waist when you cook or do the dishes, playing footsies when you eat, all of that

sometimes when you’re both on the couch doing work on separate laptops he’d make it a literal mission to be in physical contact with you

like even if it interferes with his work, he’s gotta be touching you

he’d have one leg thrown over your torso if your hands are too busy with something

it’s really endearing because if you moved at all, like even just a little and he wasn’t able to have a part of his body on yours, he’d start pouting

he’d reach his arms or legs out in a grabbing motion and not say anything

and then you’d have to reposition yourself so that the two of you would be able to work and he still be able to touch you

and his smiles, the fucking smiles when he gets to hold your hand after you guys finish working on whatever you needed to work on

his cuddles are top tier too, and he’d make sure you guys get at least 30 minutes of cuddles a day

lee donghyuck

the whiniest, most annoying (but adorable) boyfriend ever

like jeno, he needs to be in physical contact with you, but instead of quietly pouting or reaching for you, he’d YELL

“y/n! hold my hand!”

“but i’m typing-”

“babe, hold my hand!!!!” *intense pouting*

he normally drops it when he knows you’re actually busy, but when he knows you’re just watching a movie or something, he keeps pestering you until you hold his hand

and when you do, he takes the opportunity to POUNCE on you like he just deadass lays on top of you

and you let him because it’s actually really comforting having his weight on top of you

NOSE KISSES!!!!!! lots of those

and forehead pecks

it goes both ways, though, because he likes receiving those too!!!!! fairness!!!!!

he’s the type to play tricks on you, but never takes it too far because he doesn’t want to hurt you in any way

and he spoils you a lot

like not with materialistic things (though sometimes he does) but more with arguments and when it comes to picking what to do/eat for the day

he’s the type to always think before his actions, yet when he’s around you, all logic is thrown to the side

“you wanna go bungee jumping? bet!” (even though he’s afraid of heights)

he gets two of everything when he goes to the store; one for him and one for you

and when you first started dating, you got a bit shy because of this due to the fact that he’s spending extra on you

you felt bad he was spending extra money so whenever you were buying things, you followed his habit and do the same thing

and for the first couple months he’d say that it’s fine and everything but when you both got really comfortable around each other, he’d be really witty with his comebacks

“no, i don’t wanna share with you” or “pay me back then”

sometimes the casual, “no, you’re gonna eat all of it and leave me nothing”

soon enough, the two of you fell into the habit of buying two of everything wherever you went (besides the things that you both know the other person hates)

also, when you first started dating, a lot of it was just casually hanging out at a park or walking around a random neighborhood and getting food nearby

street food you can take on the go >>>> food from fancy restaurants

and also, when you first started getting snacks for each other and he didn’t know what you liked, he got one of everything

like for example, the first time you guys had a movie night at your place, he went to the store but didn’t know what brand of chips you preferred so he bought both kinds

(he learned that day what your favorite snacks and brands were and he remembered it forever)

na jaemin

HUGS!

jaemin is the king of hugs, like no one, absolutely NO ONE can beat him when it comes to hugs

they’re always so warm and he always knows whenever you need one

he’s kind of like a battery pack, so whenever you hug him, you feel recharged and energized

because all his hugs are full of love and you can literally feel it radiating off of him

“jaems, i need-”

you can’t even finish your sentence because he’s already engulfing you

“i know, baby”

sometimes you’d tease him and say things like, “i was gonna ask for some water” or some shit like that and he’d get all pouty

and when he’s about to let go, you just pull him into you more

so obviously, he’s another fan of physical affection

but unlike jeno and hyuck, he’s not quite the clingy type

he will give you your space and will not invade your personal bubble, but instead just show that he’s there by doing other things

whenever he sees that your water glass is half empty, he’d go refill it

would always ask if you wanted a snack

would feed you his food when you were busy working on your laptop

just little actions to show that he’s paying attention to you

you pick up on his habit and slowly become more tentative too

he’s also the type that shows the overprotective type of affection too

like, when it gets cold and he notices you shiver a little, he’d immediately take off his sweater/hoodie/jacket, whatever, and give it to you

or whenever your clothes seem to be bothering you, he’d offer you his shirt or pants or anything for you to feel more comfortable

he really enjoys cooking for you, so you’d have little cooking dates every once in a while where he teaches you a recipe or you teach him something

and it always either ends up in a disaster or a really appetizing success, no mediocre food in this household

the disasters are normally when you’re in charge of the cooking because you get distracted by jaemin’s crackheadery

he talks to the fucking vegetables and asks them how their day was before chopping them up, like what the fuck?

the normally tentative jaemin gets distracted because he’s making you laugh

he loves hearing you laugh, so he keeps doing what he’s doing to get to hear it more

so sometimes you forget you’re boiling something, you forget there’s something on the stove and shit starts spilling out

you’re both panicking and looking for the fire extinguisher

jaemin just ends up smacking it with whatever he’s holding and the flames go out and you both end up laughing and rolling around on the floor for the next 10 minutes

zhong chenle

can be the most evil or the most adoring boyfriend, there is no inbetween

like some days, he’d tease you to the point you ignore him while other days he’s all cuddly, snuggled up against you while hyping you up like you’re some sort of insta baddie

but a constant is that he will ALWAYS call you cute

you say something stupid? “cute.”

you CALL him stupid? “how cute!”

you drop your phone in the toilet? “cute.”

he has an obsession with that word, but it doesn’t really bother or annoy you because you really like hearing him say it

even when you guys play video games

you’re both beast at battle royale games, so you’re both constantly playing with one another

you guys normally don’t play when you see each other/ meet up because you spend that time doing other quality couple things

like bicker over what to order or where to get boba from for the day

so instead you guys normally play video games together at 3 in the morning after finishing up all your work for the day

whenever you’d knock down an enemy, you’d hear him from the other end of the phone shouting things like, “y/n that kill was so sexy!” (he picked that up from jaemin)

when you make noises after either missing or hitting your target, he’d chuckle to himself and mumble a little, “cute.”

soon enough you’re also picking up the habit and calling him cute all the damn time too

at first, he insisted that you stopped calling him cute because it was HIS line

“babe, i know i’m adorable, but stop calling me cute.”

“no.”

more bickering because he is so persistent

eventually got used to it and you two would have little squabbles over how the other is overusing it when you're BOTH doing it

not normally the type to be showing physical affection, but will cuddle when he’s sleepy

he feels safe when he’s holding you so he’s at peace and can fall asleep easily

he probably likes petting your hair when he’s the big spoon, and likes it when you pet his hair when he’s the little spoon

OMG WAIT he’s probably the type to have you lay on his lap (or vice versa) and just play with your hair (or have you play with his hair)!!!!!!!

like y’all are just chilling on the couch watching some basketball game and he just lays on your lap out of nowhere

“time for human contact!”

you’d just laugh and start combing your hand through his hair and he closes his eyes and ends up falling asleep

park jisung

the best friend type of boyfriend where the most couply thing you end up doing is going yo the zoo and feeding animals

he really likes when you guys go to the gift shop and play with the little toys they have

he’s super interested in the little things and is fascinated by everything big and small

you find that shit so cute and secretly take pictures of him staring at the miniature figures of lions

he catches on after seeing you changed your wallpaper to a picture of him holding a giraffe puppet and having it look at him

he holds your finger when you walk around so that you both don’t get lost

but his hands are really big compared to yours, so you switch to holding his finger instead and he physically melts because he thinks it looks so cute

i think your typical dates are the ones that involve a lot of walking around BECAUSE of the fact that you hold onto his finger

(jk, but like...he just thinks it’s really cute)

(so much so that it becomes a habit when you’re just hanging out)

(watching a movie? here, hold my finger. grocery shopping? here, hold it.)

you guys go to the amusement park often too

you hold onto each other’s fingers and wander around the park looking for rides that jisung can ride because he's scared of action

but you like roller coasters, and jisung always feels bad because you never ride them when you two go together

so one time, when there was one you really wanted to go on but you knew it would have scared jisung

so you decided to pass up on it because you didn’t want to leave him alone

but he was noticing how your eyes kept lingering on the coaster and he broke

“y/n, i’ll go on it with you”

and you’re shocked because you didn’t even say you wanted to go on it, like you just looked at it but he caught on

and you tried to brush it off and insisting that you could go on a ride you both liked

but he was so stern about it because he knew how much you wanted to go on it

i think he’s the type of boyfriend that normally gets over his fears when he is encouraged by his partner, and in this case, his form of encouragement was making you happy

he just likes seeing you happy in general

so internally, he’s hyping himself up while you’re cheering for him

and although he’s scared shitless, he goes through with it because he knows that this is a fear he needs to get over, so might as well get it over with while making you smile!

and so when it’s your turn to get on the ride, he gets cold feet, kinda, but you grab onto his hand, not his finger, and rub your thumb over it to reassure him that it’ll be fine

and it was honestly not that bad because he felt safe with you holding his hand the entire time

and when the ride finishes and he sees how happy you are, he thinks to himself that it was so worth it because you’re beaming

he makes a note

holding your hand > holding fingers

[greenygreenland]

Date: Jean Havoc x Reader (w/ Big Brother Roy Mustang)

REQUESTED

-PRETEND ROY IS YOUNGER FOR THE SAKE OF THIS ONE-SHOT (say, like 20-ish) -sorry this took so long. I had an internship and it got a little crazy

-idc about the timeline because this is a one-shot and i’m not gonna use my big brain lmaooo

Summary: Overprotective Roy? Yes. You’re dating Jean Havoc and your bro watches your first date from the shadows.

Nervous. That was the first emotion you felt when you stepped out of the front door. Today was a big day, maybe more so than you’d like to believe. The sun shimmered overhead, where the sparse clouds drifted lazily across the sky. “Bye, Roy,” you called. “I’ll be back around sixteen o’clock.”

Roy was your elder brother by four years. If a guard dog had a human personification, it would definitely be him. For all your life, he wrote himself off as the responsible sibling. He acted like his grades were better than yours, like he was the one to take out the trash, or finish all the dishes before cockroaches decided to make home in them.

Anyone would have thought that to be true. After all, Roy was young and rose up the military ranks at an alarming rate. But you knew better, along with his close colleagues. Roy was stupid, overprotective, and impulsive. He would do anything that interested him, and if it didn’t, he’d pay no mind to it.

You prayed your brother would pay no mind today.

The front door slammed open with a creak. “Where do you think you’re going?” Roy inquired. He squinted at you as if you were about to do something stupid. “And what are you wearing? I hope you have shorts under that.” You rolled your eyes and adjusted the purse slung over your shoulder. 

This sun dress was a gift from Jean for your (age) birthday. The skirt flowed in the passing breezes like a flower, illuminating all the vibrant colours under the rays of sun. It was a beautiful dress. If Roy thought otherwise, you’d make him understand. “It’s called a dress, doofus.” you sarcastically replied. “Not like you’d know when you only see Riza in the Command Centre. Poor you. Haven’t gotten the chance to see her in a skirt, huh?”

Roy averted his gaze to the sky with a haughty huff. “What are you talking about? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Heat rose up his cheeks. “If you’re implying I harbour romantic feelings for my First Lieutenant, then you’re--”

“A hundred percent correct.” you stated with a smug smirk. “I’ll be back around sixteen o’clock. Don’t burn down the house.” If Roy accidently did, you wouldn’t be surprised. He was the Flame Alchemist, and above all, your stupid big brother.

“Where are you going (Y/n)?” Roy called. You flung your hair over your shoulder with a bright smile that could have blinded even the sun. “A date, of course.” Okay, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to rub salt in a wound. What Roy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. But then you saw look on his face. Nevermind, it was totally worth it to rub in his face: jaw agape, eyes as wide as saucers, and shoulders hunched down.

Ah, it was good to be you.

The city bustled with life. With the sun shining, and the beauty of living in your palms, you trotted down the street. There was nothing that could ruin your date.

"Jean!" Your tone was light as a laugh escaped your lips. "It feels like I haven't seen you in a while." 

Cherry red dusted his cheeks. He stuffed the unlit cigarette into his pocket and offered you a hand. In his other, he placed a single (f/c) flower between your hairclips. "I saw you yesterday," he said with a bashful smile. "What do you mean it's been a while?" You bumped shoulders playfully and intertwined your fingers together. "Hyperbole, Jean."

"Well, it's one hyperbole too many." He remarked with a grin. "Do you want to have sandwiches today or a hot meal?" You shrugged, leaning against his shoulder. It was comfortable to have him hold you like this as you made your way down the street. He always had this secure way of linking your arms with his.

Off to the side, Roy couldn't say the same. It wasn’t like he planned on following you. Curiosity just swept him out of the house. And besides, what you didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt, right? Right.

Roy wished Jean didn’t hold you like you were some stuffed animal. For all he knew, Jean was just playing you. It wouldn't be the first when he had over fifteen other girls in the past four months. If Jean broke your heart, he'd be sure to fry the man up to a crisp. "Damn him," Roy grumbled. He pulled down his fedora and adjusted the glasses over his nose. "What makes him think he can touch (Y/n) like that?"

You suddenly laughed loudly at some joke. “Stop!” you cried, playfully smacking his arm. “That’s the worst one I’ve heard all week!” 

Roy slinked out of the shadows with a low huff. He shouldn't have worn such a thick jacket. It had to be over twenty something degrees today. But that was no matter because you were being whisked away to the park--by Jean! Roy hurried down the street. Since when did you get lunch? And what was Jean going to do to you?

"The park's a good place." you noted. “Let’s go there.” The bag from Sally's Sandwiches hung from Jean's arm. It swung back and forth as he happily pranced along the street with you hand in hand. "Good thing I remembered to bring a blanket this time. We can sit under that tree."

Oh, what was Jean going to do to you? Roy couldn't stand the thought of you walking with him like that. There had to be an ulterior motive to this 'date'. Maybe Jean wanted to leech off you for money, or maybe he would try seducing you in the park? Roy shook his head. No, no.

Jean wasn't a bad guy. Maybe Roy was thinking too far ahead. But what if he wasn’t? What if Jean pulled some sneaky plan?

You crossed the street just as a car wildly swerved. Its tires screeched against the road like nails on a chalkboard, grinding against stone until it came your way. Roy frantically popped out of his hiding space. "What kind of idiot would--"

Suddenly, you slammed a hand into the ground. The stone transmuted, blocking the car from any unnecessary collisions. It smacked straight into the wall, smoke and steam rising from its engine. "(Y/n)!" cried Jean. "Are you okay?" He frantically placed a hand on either of your shoulders and looked you up and down. A smile rose to your lips. "I'm fine. Not even a scratch."

A sigh escaped Jean's lips. "That's good. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt." You placed a gentle hand to his cheek and pecked it (Roy wanted to gag). "I'm an Alchemist. It'd be a shame if I went down by a car."

"Don't joke about that," Jean chastised. He hooked his arm with yours again and led you away from the screeching onlookers and police. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Roy blinked. Did he hear Jean right? 'I don't know what I'd do if I lost you'? What was that supposed to mean? “Look at them, being all lovey-dovey...” Roy continued after the couple. They passed through a field of forest green grass, where flowers bloomed in straight, uniform lines all around. It was a beautiful spot to have a picnic. 

You swung your arm, hand in hand with Jean. The sun kissed your heads from the Heaven’s, illuminating a bright happiness Roy couldn’t look away from. Urgh. He wanted to kick something, or better yet, set a tree on fire. How could you two look so perfect? You were only (age) and that was far too young to be dating. 

Besides, you had a career in the military. If your little ‘relationship’ was sealed with a ring, you’d be separated. “Did they even think that through?” Roy grumbled to himself. He gritted his teeth together and ducked behind a bush. 

“Excuse me sir.”

Roy glanced over his shoulder with a false smile. “Ah, what is it?” A little boy ball up and down in his hand. The glare on his face could have been intimidating, but Roy was Roy Mustang. He wouldn’t let some kid look down upon him. “Are you lost?”

The kid clutched the rock so tightly his knuckles turned white. “My mama said to watch out for creepy people. I think you fit well, Mr. Pervert.” He took a step back and launched the ball at Roy’s head. “Take that!”

“What are you talking about?!” Roy exclaimed. He jumped out of the bushes and brushed the leaves from his jacket. Boy, it was getting terribly hot in the sweltering heat. Poor Roy found himself losing what little patience remained. “I’m not a creep, kid! Where are your parents? If I was a creep, you would have been kidnapped already. I’m just trying to make sure my sister...!”

At that very second, you so happened to come to a stop. At that very second, you so happened to stare. At that very second, you so happened to recognise a face among strangers.

Roy was royally screwed. 

The little kid pointed at Roy as if he were the most wanted criminal in all of Amestris. “Lady!” he screeched. “I saw this guy watching you since you got here! He’s a creep! Call the cops!” Jean squinted at Roy. At first, he actually believed the kid was telling the truth. What kind of normal person wore a winter coat, a fedora, and a pair of sunglasses if not to deal drugs in the alleyways?

“Hold up...” Jean blinked owlishly. “Colonel, is that you?!”

You released Jean’s arm. “Oh, it’s him alright.” A menacing glare rose to your face as you cracked your knuckles. What was Roy supposed to do? The wrath of his sister was not something he could brace himself for, especially when she could be just as impulsive as Edward Elric.

Roy waved his arms in denial. “I don’t know what that kid’s talking about. I just happened to pass by, and in the process, I ended up dropping my wallet, which turned out to be in the bushes, so--”

“Save it.” You cracked your knuckles and pulled on a glove. “It’s time to crank up the heat, because we’re having fried Alchemist tonight.”

Anger. That was the only emotion you felt as you chased your big brother around the park. Today was supposed to be a big day. You planned to walk around, maybe go shopping, and spend the night wandering around with Jean for a whole day. But no. Your stupid, idiotic, big brother had to be the creepy party crasher.

[riflewounds]

Whumptober, day 27 | Pushed To The Limit (stumbling)

hhh I'm running out of steam but I'm going to finish Whumptober, dammit!

---

He liked heat, just not this kind of heat.

They had cops on their asses for a good few hours by now. Very motivated California Highway Patrol boys in blue.

Oh this was a big mess. Sure, Durant and Lishka had managed to snatch two duffle bags of cash, easily at least forty thousand dollars, but at what cost?

The gunman had somehow managed to down a helicopter with a single bullet, a one in a million shot.

And that's where the issues really began.

Those ten-odd cars - cruisers, actually - ran them off road, their car damn near uncontrollable with every light on the dashboard glowing (including the dreaded 'check engine' and 'check oil pressure' lights, even the airbag and ABS lights were on) as this entire debacle drew to a messy end.

They hit a rock, and the car went airborne. Flew past a brook, landed hood-first into the gravelly ground. Durant's head hit the dashboard with a crack, and everything disappeared in the darkness.

Until a pair of hands pulled him out. Radiant like the sun. He leaned into those warm hands (or fell into them, but who gives a fuck), part of him tried to fuse with the feeling but his name fluttered in the wind, Tony, Tony, we have to go.

"Tony, wake up!"

Everything came back into a muted focus. Stench of gasoline filled the air, his skull throbbed, a trickle of something hot crawled between his eyebrows and down the side of his nose. 

"Tony!" 

Lishka's hands cupped his scruffy face, they brushed away some stray bangs that stuck to the gunman's forehead. Such a gentle motion in this gruesome situation...

Durant groaned as he forced his eyes open, a wave of nausea washing over him, engulfing his shaken meatsack of a body. There was smoke coming out of the front of the car, brilliant white curling over the bonnet with a menacing hiss. Faint wail of sirens in the distance.

The gunman's sight was hazy, colors washed out and muted between the incessant ringing in his ears.

There was a new tone, a low roar, joining the cacophony of two high tones and one low.

"Can you hear me? Look at me, hey!" 

Now it was equal, two low, two high.

He clambered out of the seat, right into Lishka's arms, damn near falling to his knees and dragging both of them down.

But Lishka held their ground rather admirably, pushing back with all their strength to keep the gunman from falling.

And to keep him upright.

His legs didn't move right. They weren't broken, but those limbs wouldn't go where he wanted them. 

"Yeah, I can-- I can hear you," he slurred, forced his tongue to work and his own voice rang in his head.

It hurt his ears.

Durant didn't make any attempts to peel himself away from his boss. Tired. Lishka was warm, comfortable, and he didn't feel like moving.

"Can you walk," came another worried question. Lishka's hands steered the gunman, directing him to rest against the b-pillar of the car, right behind the front passenger door. Suddenly their radiant hands were no longer at his sides and he grabbed onto the nearest thing he could just to try and keep upright. 

"Ah... I'd rather not.

But only moments later, Lishka was back again. Two bags slung over their shoulders.

So they're... taking the money too.

"'M dizzy," the gunman uttered. Bitching like a fucking child. Small, bright spots danced in his vision. Huh. This was new...

"How bad is it?" 

Now that was a fucking question. Durant blinked, for a moment he'd been quiet, before he settled on an answer. "Bad enough that I don't think it's a good idea for me to walk."

"I know a place where we can hide, It's not far."

Oh... Right. Right, they had so many cops on their asses most people would've just given up if faced with such a show of force.

This belated realization seemed to have roused the gunman a little, he heaved himself off the car, trying to move towards Lishka. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, swaying with each step as he limply dragged himself over the bumpy terrain, feet catching against rocks and exposed tree roots.

Lishka offered him a hand, and he took it without a second thought. Durant's fingers curled tightly around their hand, he let them guide him over the rough terrain, following routes in the forest, but then they found a shallow creek and soon they walked upstream. "To get the dogs off our scent," Lishka reasoned.

Durant couldn't tell how long they walked up the creek, nor where the two of them wound up, but he could tell there was a house or a cabin in front of them. It didn't seem like anyone lived there.

Perfect place to set up camp, recoup, keep running.

His legs burned, thighs and calves stiff as logs and he could swear they were swollen. Pushed so far past their limits that he was sure he'd fall on the spot, unable to move those overexerted limbs. 

Durant let go of Lishka's hand, no longer matching their pace. "You go on ahead, I... I'll come later."

That wasn't the right word, he could tell as Lishka looked at him with a slight frown.

"Why?" 

Why? He had the answer, just...

"If I stop moving, I'm not getting up again."

They must've covered some ten miles for his legs to hurt this much. They were moving by themselves at this point, locked in some rhythmic spasm that caused them to walk. 

The explanation was either so horrible or so convincing that Lishka did, in fact, go on ahead, yet they still looked over their shoulder to keep an eye on Durant.

And he was thankful for that.

[harfanfare]

Aether x Reader || Glaze Lilies

"This one is delicious too," you said, swallowing another piece of the dish. “Paimon would probably create another stomach for these miracles.”

Aether chuckled softly as he bites off another piece of hot roll filled with traditional Liyue-rich stuffing. “I guess even that is not enough when the competition is the Sticky Honey Roast that Amber offered her.”

You smiled in response.

Late fall in Liyue was a beautiful time of the year.

The city was always full of red and gold colours like towns straight from fairy tales, but in this time, when the leaves have already turned dark orange and the air was carrying an aroma of seasonal seed cookies, Liyue looked even more breathtaking.

You were sure that it was Amber who made it possible for you to go somewhere on Aether's day off from doing… everything. Normally, you would be sitting in some restaurant watching Paimon heartlessly ordering all the dishes from a menu without looking at the number of zeros of each price.

But when Amber heard you mention dates accompanied by beautiful, falling leaves, she blushed as the flame of pure determination appeared in her eyes. In the evening she appeared in front of Paimon and offered her to go out to the city for one day.

Oh, if she only knew how much it will cost her...

"[Name], stay close to me, or I will lose you in this crowd." Aether gripped your hand tighter.

"Getting lost in such a big city would be romantic, wouldn't it?" you giggled.

"Getting lost and being found in the wrong place and time wouldn’t be," he replied. “Every city is much more dangerous when the night comes.”

You turned into another street to finally reach the viewpoint in Liyue.

You could see a lot more from there, but less people could see you. Who would twist their neck to see two little dots on top of a mountain?

"It's going to rain soon," Aether nodded at the clouds, which were moving quickly toward the city. He clicked his tongue. “If we don't want to get wet, we should be getting ready.”

"Oh, isn't that Aether?"

You turned around to see a girl approaching you two.

She was gorgeous—her long blonde hair waved in the breeze as if it existed only to be an effect for them. She had every girl's dream figure, bright, sparkling eyes, and rosy cheeks.

Perfect girl.

And the perfect person to compare yourself with to create a trillion complexes about your body.

She had a very charismatic, attractive aura around her, but the way she behaved towards Aether was slowly starting to bother you. Of course, it might just be some kind of funny, totally wrong prejudice against her, but ...

“[Girl's name]?” Aether muttered, not noticing your pleading gaze saying: ‘let's get out of here.’ “—What are you doing here?”

"I was just passing by," she laughed, her voice soft, pearl-like. “I couldn't go without saying hi, haha!” Then she looked at you and fixed you with a stare. It wasn't a cold look, but it wasn't friendly either. “And who is that?”

"Ah," Aether shook his head, as if only now remembering that he had not come here alone. He put his hand around your waist. “This is my girlfriend, [Name]”

“I didn't know you had a girlfriend! You always have to be so mysterious?” Aether rolled his eyes at her words, even if he smiled slightly. Then she turned to you. “Could I kidnap him for a moment? I need help moving my luggage to my new apartment.”

She grabbed his hand without waiting for your answer, as if it were a rhetorical question. As Aether released his hand from your waist, you felt as if you were left alone in a foreign land.

“I'll be back in a minute!” After these words, he turned to the blonde and at an equal pace, they turned around the corner of some house, behind the wall of which you could see an extremely high pile of boxes.

"It probably won't be a minute," you sighed.

You leaned against the railing and stared at the toes of your shoes, telling yourself that you should have opposed her. Would that be selfish? You've been dreaming about a date with Aether for so long, without third parties, and now that the moment has come, it turns out that someone will take from you your boyfriend anyway.

Five minutes passed... eight minutes... ten... thirteen...

After fourteen minutes, you got up and decided to check how much was already packed. Some of the super-heavy boxes seemed to be gone, but that was up for discussion since there were dozens of them here.

You couldn't find a familiar face in sight. Did... they just leave you here? More likely, they were just carrying some luggage into one of the nearby houses, but you couldn't knock on every door to find them—it would take hours.

You felt yourself slowly breaking down.

You knew you were a little (a little very much) jealous of this girl, but more depressing was the fact that this was going to be yours and Aether’s day. COMMON. Now you thought you were the loneliest person in the universe.

"I'm not going to get upset," you repeated aloud, trying to motivate yourself to leave this place. "I'll go... I’ll go somewhere and have a good time... alone."

With a quick step, as if you didn't want to think about this anymore, you turned back and followed the alleys you and Aether had previously travelled. You came to the food stores that you had only glanced at before, but you didn't have time to taste anything else because you were in a hurry to get to the viewpoint.

It is true that you ordered take-out rolls, but the whole range of different types of food seemed very tempting despite the filling bread.

And the smell of such highly seasoned dishes was tempting—very much.

"Sorry," a young girl approached you after you shoved a piece of meat into your mouth. You swallowed it quickly, almost choking on it. “Would you like to buy some flowers?”

“…Why not?” you replied.

The girl put the money in the pocket of her dress. Instead of putting a flower on your hand, she came closer and gently braided a glaze lily into your hair near right ear.

"Here you are," she replied and looked at you. A smile beamed across her face. “You look really pretty!”

"Thank you," you replied. You noticed that this was the last flower in her basket, and because of that, the ten-year-old girl seemed proud of herself. She walked away, thanking again for the purchase.

I think that one more on the other side and all would be perfect...

You glanced at the setting sun and concluded that you could give Aether a similar lily. Wouldn't that look cute on him? There was still some time before it will get completely dark. Even the rain clouds that had previously seemed to be crossing the sky at an alarming pace now seem to have stopped.

You finished eating and walked briskly towards the Danyu Ruins, hoping to find some pretty lilies on your way.

The silence, or rather the sound of the wind and the leaves rustling against each other, were the only thing that accompanied your footsteps since you left Liyue. It seemed relaxing at first, but now that the skies were a deeper blue than orange, you concluded that a travelling companion would not be a bad idea.

“They're here!” you finally found two lilies that glistened slightly in the dark. You collected them quickly and turned to head back into town.

…You were surprised when you encountered many, many roads, each of them unfamiliar.

"I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs," you joked, though panic had already paralyzed your legs.

Your problems were not diminished by the fact that you heard mad laughter near you. You felt your heart leap into your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as a figure emerged from behind the bushes.

Abyss mage.

You have heard about them from the stories of Aether, who sometimes told you about his adventures when you tried to bandage his wounds with a bandage, herbs, or other medicines.

As soon as your heart was beating, so quickly the magician saw you. He teleported a meter away from you and you started running.

Faster, faster, faster.

Before you ran a hundred meters, a mage appeared before you. You didn't even have time to stop when he waved his hand, and a large ice crystal formed in front of him. Huge and pointed towards you.

Almost as soon as it was launched, a certain force pushed both of you backwards. You felt pain in your left leg, but somehow you didn't fall. Strong arms held you and made you be in a comforting, familiar embrace.

You looked up to see Aether running towards the cliff to finally jump, open his gliding set and take you two away from the icy monster.

You didn't say a word to each other all this time.

As soon as you touched the ground, you stepped out of his embrace, as if feeling that you had abused his closeness too much. Instead, he grabbed your wrist, turned to face him, and initiated a long, passionate kiss.

He didn't pull away until you both were breathless, and your cheeks were burning like hot coals. You couldn't say you were cold anymore.

“Why?” He took a deep breath. However, his voice still trembled. “Why didn't you wait for me? If I did not make it on time—"

“I was waiting for you!” You interrupted him. You bit your lower lip as you tried to contain the tide of frustration. “It's you who disappeared somewhere. You went somewhere with that girl. I already thought you weren't coming back.”

Aether, an intelligent boy, immediately paraphrased your words "I was maybe jealous". At the thought, he smiled apologetically.

"Sorry," he said, scratching his neck. “I accidentally dropped a box on her leg and, oh, it was hard to treat someone who screams in pain before even a finger touches them…”

"Oh," you felt a deep flush of embarrassment coming up to your cheeks. Indeed, the previous redness of the cheeks did not disappear, but now it only preserved their shade for the next minutes. “I'm really sorry. I left you, put you and myself in danger, just to find some stupid flowers...”

For the third time since finding you, Aether hugged you tightly. He planted a kiss on the top of your head. You stood for a few minutes in pleasant silence, cuddling tightly to each other, and finally, you both relaxed completely.

You took the tangled lilies out of your pocket; one was practically worn out, but the other seemed to be in good condition. You dropped the massacred one, and you tried to straighten the petals with your fingers.

"Turn around," you told him.

He did it without batting an eye. You ran your fingers through his hair and braided his plant into a braid.

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought yours, still artfully arranged, flashed a pleasant blue light as Aether examined his looks.

"It suits you," you said. You both decided to go back to Liyue and spend the rest of the night there. You held hands all the way back.

"You too," he replied. "We are complementing each other very nicely now with these flowers ...and also without them," he added with a smile.

"So, you still think getting lost isn't romantic?" You looked at him from under your lashes.

“Still. I wish I could have you with me without any excuse that you will get lost.”

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Leannan // O.W. (celebration fic)

Request: Congratulations hun! Seriously, slow down xD No, please don't :D so I would like to have Oliver Wood - duh xD, Hogwarts, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff 4. - “Is that my shirt?” (You just captured my Scot baby so well, I couldn't miss it!) Congrats again, hun, take all the time you need! <3 - @heloisedaphnebrightmore​

Fluff 4: “Is that my shirt?”

A/N: Coming from the queen of Oliver fics, this means so much! Thank you! For those that don’t know, Leannan is Scottish Gaelic for ‘sweetheart’. I don’t know whether this reads as enemies to lovers but there is a lot of teasing, however, I’m happy to rewrite if you want it! As always, I hope you enjoy and thank you all so much for 1.5k!!

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, teasing

Word count: 1.7k

Truthfully, you considered yourself to be a very calm and mature person. There was very little that could rile you into a frenzy, and if it did, you almost always dealt with the problem by finding a solution as quickly as possible.

But you were absolutely certain there was no solution for Oliver Wood.

Since joining the Gryffindor Quidditch Team in your Third Year, he had made it his mission to get on your nerves every practice and every match, or whenever he had a spare moment. The teasing started off innocently enough; but then it evolved into something more and now you both felt at a stalemate.

There was no ill will between you; just teenage stubbornness tied with mutual attraction that neither of you were willing to admit. He liked to challenge you; becoming your rival in so many forms whether it was on the pitch where he would challenge you to races, or in the classroom room where he would test your patience through essay grades.

In so many forms, you could class him as your enemy for the pure fact that he drove you up the wall, but there was the rare occasion where you would catch him watching you across a classroom or the common room, and you had to wonder whether he felt something more.

---------

Sighing to yourself in the changing room, you unzip your bag, pulling out your uniform and setting it on the bench. The day had already started out bad; running late to first lesson after having spilt orange juice down your blouse and then forgetting to submit an essay for your third lesson of the day had your mood lower than it had been all week.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath as you begin to get ready for practice. Silently praying that it would be an easy one.

“Leannan,” A known voice sings, “Practice starts in ten.”

Turning, you fix Oliver with an unimpressed look, “I am not your sweetheart, Wood.”

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe, “How did you know I was calling you a sweetheart?”

You pause; wondering how the hell you were going to explain this one. Absolutely refusing to explain that you had spent one evening in the library, scouring through a Scottish Gaelic dictionary until you came across the word. You absolutely refuse to acknowledge how heated your skin felt one you read the translation; how seeing it sent a thrill through you.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

You roll your eyes, “Shove off, Wood. I need to get ready for practice.”

Oliver holds his hand up in surrender, laughing, “I’m going, I’m going.”

You throw a piece of clothing at him, “Go faster.”

“Alright woman, no need to resort to bodily harm.”

“Wood, I asked you to leave and you’re still here. Either you love to annoy me this much or you so desperately want to see me naked, now which is it?”

Oliver splutters at your words; his face a picture as a bright blush creeps his neck, “I’ll see you on the pitch.”

You stifle your laugh as Oliver walks into the doorframe before leaving the girl’s changing room. His slight embarrassment making your day that little bit better. You find yourself thinking of him as you get changed for practice; of his confidence that really does get the better of him sometimes, of his love of quidditch, of how he lights up when he delivers the pre-match speech that the team has memorised but that he will always deliver.

Shaking your head clear of all thoughts of the brown-eyed scot, you grab your broom and head out onto the pitch, joining the rest of the team. You ruffle young Harry’s hair as you walk past him; earning a playful glare in return.

“Have we quite finished?” Oliver admonishes; his gaze fixed on you.

“Yeah, have you quite finished?” Fred parrots.

You elbow him harshly; knocking the breath out of him, “Shut it, Weasley.”

Oliver claps his hands together; gaining the attention of the team. Setting up the plan of action for today’s practice, he blows his whistle – the command to saddle brooms and take off.

It feels as if it’s revenge for your comment in the changing room. Oliver nit-picks every move you take; taking it apart and demonstrating for the team the exact moment where you went wrong and why it should have been avoided. Oliver isn’t being outwardly malicious – he doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body; he’s just placing extra attention on you because of how you reacted in the changing room.

Oliver hadn’t admitted this to anyone; how attractive he found you, but how clueless he felt when it came to approaching you. He could tease you well enough; rile you up and get on your nerves, but he really did like you. You were his Leannan, no matter how much you seemed to despise the nickname.

Practice finishes with you landing back onto the pitch in one smooth motion; hopping off your broom and flipping Oliver off as he shouts for you to come back and talk. If you spoke to him now, you knew you would say something you would come to bitterly regret. Walking away, as you did now, meant that you could cool off and think through things rationally.

As you’re pulling your robes back on, an idea springs to mind. An idea that would definitely repay Oliver for how harsh he was during training.

Your mood brightening once again, a smirk breaks across your face as you hoist your Quidditch bag onto your shoulder and take hold of your broom; this would definitely be a fun prank – one that you couldn’t predict the outcome of, but it was one you also needed particular help with.

--------

At breakfast the following morning, you take a seat next to the Weasley twins, greeting each with a wide smile that only had them questioning your motives.

“Boys, I have an idea and I need your help.”

They both lean closer to you, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Quidditch captain would it?”

You bite your lip, “It might…”

Fred and George laugh, “What do you need us to do?”

----

Fred and George succeed that very night; pulling young Harry in on the scheme as well – getting him to distract Oliver with numerous questions about Quidditch whilst they snuck into Oliver’s room and stole his spare Quidditch jersey. He would never notice it missing; choosing to wear the same one for each match for luck.

They join you in the common room after having completed the deed; smuggling the jersey to you which you hide underneath the blanket you’re huddled under. Oliver frowns at the three of you; cutting him off on his education for Harry, he shouts over to you, “What would you three be planning?”

You widen your eyes, batting your lashes, “We would never do such a thing.”

Oliver frowns, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You place a hand on your heart, “The lack of faith you have in me is astounding, Wood.”

“Leannan, the three of you together can create enough mayhem to shut the school down.”

You grin at the use of his nickname for you, “Then lucky for you we aren’t planning anything,”

Oliver grumbles but says nothing further as he turns back to Harry; the boy looking as captivated as ever by Oliver’s explanations.

“What are you going to do with it?” George asks.

“Burn it? Tear it up? Dye it green?” Fred asks.

You shake your head at all his suggestions; feeling only slightly alarmed, “I’m going to wear it.”

Fred sits back with a huff, “I’d have dyed it green.”

You pat his leg consolingly, “Next time.”

-------

Your plan was to wear Oliver’s Quidditch jersey around Hogsmeade; starting with wearing it to breakfast in the Great Hall. You walk in proudly; winking back at Fred and George as you sit down next to them at the Gryffindor table.

If Oliver notices something, he doesn’t say – he glances your way once through all of breakfast then refuses to catch your eye after that.

You turn to the twins, “What are your plans for Hogsmeade? Room for one more?”

George nods, “We always have room for one more. We’re going to Zonko’s first and then we’ll see where the day takes us.”

You laugh, “That we shall. I’m going to grab some more money, but I’ll meet you in the courtyard?”

With a thumbs up from both of them, you leave the Great Hall, rushing back to the Gryffindor common room. Fred nudges George and points at Oliver who when noticing your absence, made sure to follow you from the room. They both roll their eyes, knowing full well you would not be meeting them in the courtyard.

-------

Returning to the common room after breakfast to grab some last minute money before meeting the twins, you’re pulled to one side by a frustrated looking Oliver.

Frustrated doesn’t seem to cover what Oliver feels at the sight of you in his shirt; he feels confirmation that you hold some feelings for him, but mostly feels desperation at how much he wants to get it off you.

“Is that my shirt?”

You look down at your clothing; your face the picture of innocence when you finally meet his brown eyes, “You know… I think it is.”

Oliver’s hands flex by his sides; an action he only does when he’s getting frustrated and can’t do anything about it, “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

You pull out the hem; reading his quidditch number out loud before saying, “I don’t know, I think it looks pretty good on me. Don’t you?”

Oliver leans in closer; just enough so he can whisper in your ear but far enough where he’s purposefully not touching you, “Leannan, what are you doing?”

You angle your body away from him, “I think you know what I’m doing.”

Oliver’s hands finally leave his side; fiddling with the hem of shirt that’s now draped over your body. With a smirk, he asks, “Just how set are you on going to Hogsmeade today?”

“Why? Got plans for me?”

He chuckles; hands fisting in his shirt, “Leannan, you have no idea.”

**********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @nerdyatheletic-deactivated20200 @acciotwinz

[purplerose244]

Idea scenario for episode 10 (because putting thoughts down makes me less anxious 😅)

Langa gets Reki to fix the skateboard.

They are awkward at first but then they talk and they laugh like they used to. Reki promises the board will be delivered for his final challenge. It looks like they are mostly back to normal but then Langa finds out Reki left S and they fight again. Langa tells him he can't skate without him because he makes him feel alive, Reki tells him he can't skate WITH him anymore because Langa will leave him behind. Langa tells him he's sorry he broke their promise, Reki tells him he's sorry he left Langa. Langa confesses that he loves to skate when Reki is there, because he loves Reki. Reki admits that he wants to skate with Langa because he loves Langa (possible kiss because WHY NOT ❤💙❤💙)

Despite this Reki says that until he is strong enough to be by Langa's side, he won't be back to S. Langa says that until Reki is back he won't skate but Reki doesn't want that. He says that Langa loves skateboarding, that it's what united them and it will be what will bring them back together so he needs to keep going for the both of them. Langa promises that he will keep skateboarding. They leave with another "don't be reckless" from Reki, that Langa uses back saying "you too" (possible other kiss because YA KNOW ❤💙❤💙)

There are tears as they leave each other.

(I'm guessing that the finalists will be Shadow Langa Adam and Tadashi, sorry Miya. I don't know if they will make a battle royal or a pre final to decide. For the sake of this theory I'm gonna go with Adam vs Langa again)

(I do think there will be a confrontation between Tadashi and Langa though. An Eve and the Snake situation 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️)

Adam cannot wait to dance with his Eve. Langa can't believe Reki won't be here again. He wants to run away, he wants to leave, he doesn't want to skate without him again. But he made a promise, and this time he's going to keep it. Like back in his challenge against Miya the skate is delivered a little late. Not by Reki, but by manager Oka. The skate is the same in the structure but the sketch is different: it's Reki's signature gear symbol, fused with a snowflake all over. Manager Oka says Reki is cheering for him, no matter where he is.

Heartbeat.

Langa's heart flutters. It's here. The feeling. Even when Reki is not here, he still somehow is. The challenge starts, Adam tries to play his tricks, to seduce his Eve, skating and being a creep dancing. But Langa isn't looking at him, he is beyond. The feeling he has experienced at his first challenge against Adam was a raw, dangerous excitement, that had felt like the strongest emotion he had ever experienced. He was wrong. This one feeling was honest, vivacious, protective. It was pulsing, bright, warm. It was all Reki was, it was all his love for skateboarding and him. So Langa skates, he skates like never before, because he loves this and he loves Reki and everyone needs to know.

Adam doesn't understand what is happening. He's loving Langa, he's loving him with all of his heart. And he is... rejecting him? He isn't supposed to, how can he reject his love? Adam has been loved his entire life and he has never rejected the love his aunties have inflicted on him, that was natural! Why was his Eve being like this? How could he?? Adam starts to get more aggressive, showing more of his "love" trying to make Langa "understand". It's all in vain, and Langa smiles so sweetly, looking at something that Adam cannot see. That he cannot touch.

The police arrives again, this time they know something is up (Idk maybe Tadashi did something or the investigator is that good I don't have a clear motivation for this one). Adam is too caught up with forcing himself onto Langa (it sounds very bad but honestly can you not believe when it's about him? 😑) to even care. They get to the very end, Adam is out to do anything to get Langa, even hurting him as badly as he always did, with everyone else. But Langa is too far from him.

Langa jumps.

Snow appears, the reason why he got his name in the first place.

But there's something else, a light, making every single snowflake glimmer. The sun, there is the sun and it's making his figure shine even brighter. Adam is so caught up with his inferiority that he falls and doesn't even finish the challenge.

Langa is victorious. The others celebrate him for a moment, only to be taken by the police for interrogation. In the place where Adam had fallen there is no one. Adam is gone.

It takes a while to clear up the situation and to reconnect everything to Adam as the organizer of S. It is solved quickly since the focus is on Adam and his real career anyway. But the S has been discovered and that era is now over. Joe and Cherry have a conversation about how the world changes and where are they going to skate now (it probably ends with them arguing while admitting they can't skate without the other). Miya's qualification for the nationals gets postponed because for the S mess and everyone wants to know about that. He gets to make new friends, while the old ones that rejected him slowly start to go through "redemption" to get back into the "hero's party". Shadow, with his alter ego without a place to be, takes all of his courage to ask his boss out (on this one I feel either they will start dating on a slow pace, or the girl understood that they are hanging out as friends and nothing more. Sorry, I feel like this is Shadow's fortune 😅)

Langa goes to Reki's house to tell him about S (and get some smooch- what wait who said that ahah). Reki's mom tells him that Reki won't be home for a little while, he went to meet someone in another city. Langa is sad about that but he will wait for him.

In the dark, running away from justice that keeps looking for him, Adam can't get over how his Eve has left him. How Eve betrayed him, destroying the paradise they used to have together. He is restless, he wants to go back to that place and get Eve to love him again (because Eve loved him before, suuuure 🙄). In a way, he will make everything perfect, a new paradise for them, better than before. And Eve will never leave again.

Days go by, Langa meets the others at night to skate. Sometimes Miya even brings some friends (the ones that pushed him away in the past gets a very harsh treatement from Shadow 😉), and a few schoolmates of Langa finally got curious and are trying. Joe and Cherry are severe but very good teachers. In all of this, Langa thinks that this is a really nice moment to live in. He hopes that Reki will be back soon.

In another city, in another house, Reki takes the deepest breath of his life. He makes sure his headband is right, holds onto his skateboard (it has the same snowgear symbol on it but with inverted colors) and knocks. A second later a woman welcomes him and leads him in. Reki opens another door, where a guy with medical machines around is onto the bed. He looks up from a book and smiles.

"Kyan Reki. It's been a while pal, here on vacation?"

Reki smiles back.

"I actually have a request. It might be a lot, and I know you don't skate anymore... but you taught me all I know, and I want to get better. Will you teach me how to be the best?"

The guy looks surprised. There is a photo on the wall, them on skateboards having the time of their lives. He looks at it, then he grins.

"You're having dinner with us tonight. We start tomorrow. Get ready."

Reki exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. He looks down at his skate, hoping that what they have is real, and that this is going to be enough. But even if it isn't, he isn't going to give up. Especially not on skateboarding. Especially not on him.

He closes his eyes, a hand on his chest.

Heartbeat.

He can't wait to get back to do his best. He can't wait to learn new tricks and improve himself. He can't wait to go back to skate with Langa.

~

When I was a kid, back when I watched heroes on TV and stuff,

The hero said:

"What is your happiness?"

He absolutely hated ending without knowing what happiness was, he said.

... and I think I understand better now. When you fight for something, or someone, you wanna know why.

Hence the meaning of that happiness.

It still doesn't change how the world see it.

To become rich?

(Scene with Cherry closing a suitcase filled with money, leaving his room)

To be popular with girls?

(Scene with Cherry getting into Joe's restaurant while a few disappointed girl clients leave at the same time. They smile at each other while Joe put the "We're Closed" sign on the door and get back in with him)

To get into a good school?

(Scene with Miya running through the courtyard of his school with his old and new friends, looking happy)

To be respected?

(Scene with Shadow teaching his boss how to skate and her being an adorable klutz and so impressed by him)

Of course, I'm sure... I know, that for many that's what happiness is.

And I know I thought I knew what my happiness was myself.

I even thought I've lost it at some point.

I was wrong. I never found it, and I never lost it.

I'm discovering it right now.

(Scene with Reki walking left towards the kitchen of the house he's in with a smile. Scene with Langa in the place they used to train in, sitting to watch the sunset, turning towards right with a smile)

And I'll get it.

Soon, I will get my happiness too.

[gwoongi]

dancer in the dark (pt. 1)

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: rockstar/pop-punk au, smut, angst & fluff rating: explicit words: 33k warnings: slowburn, explicit sexual themes, alcohol use, recreational rockstar drug use, smoking, adult language, dark themes including negative side-effects of drug use and drinking including intoxication & irrational behaviour, dry humping, mental health struggle, koo has an australian accent, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, if things feel good in this fic then wait 4 part two to ruin everything a/n: ok.....hear me out......guk as a lead singer of an alternative-punk-rock band....and he looks like this......and this….. AND THIS………and his band r basically chase atlantic......Ok ur welcome & pls give this fic a chance!!!!!!!!!! i luv it a lot and its probs my fav so far ˭̡̞(◞⁎˃ᆺ˂)◞*✰ def a long one so get ur tea and blankets and buckle up! notes: have it. this has been in my drafts since like july. just take it and smile.

dedicated to @httpjeon, who force fed me pictures of rocker jeongguk and repeatedly kept me sane + motivated. thank u sm 

Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him.

BIRTH OF DEVILS. (LONDON)

“That was August Blue in the Live Lounge, covering Thanks For The Memories by Fall Out Boy. These guys have some right talent, don’t they? Yeah...well, you can keep up to date with them by watching their interview with us on IPlayer right now, and they’re also going to be on tour in London and various other American venues within the next few months. I’m proper excited for that...”

No matter how many interview schedules and radio plays, Jeongguk doesn’t feel as though he is ever going to get used to this feeling. 

For now, it is an endless series of chaos, radio stations and newspapers wanting to talk to the newest music craze- because that’s what August Blue were, whether Jeongguk liked that or not. 

August Blue were a band who nobody thought could make it. From early fans of the band, when they were barely filling up Korean venues and getting more than a thousand views on original songs, to big-name celebrities like Axel Choi who had waltzed into Jeongguk’s part-time job when he was seventeen. The man, one of Jeongguk’s idols, had looked him in the eye, considered his band and his dream and said he didn’t have the talent to do anything good with his band, and told him, if you want to be big, you have to be American.

It wasn’t quite the same, or what Axel had intended for it to mean, but four years later Jeongguk now sits number one on the Billboard Charts with his ‘band with no potential’, making a name for themselves, bringing pride to their culture, love with their music, and money to Korea’s economy. The amount of fans that August Blue had collected over the four years of Jeongguk’s band being formally considered a band were unimaginable, many flocking to landmarks to photograph lampposts he stood next to on Instagram, others going to his home-country to enjoy the country that had birthed icons. 

If only Jeongguk had the same love and pride for his country; they had turned their backs on them simply because of their popularity overseas. 

Well, fuck them- Jeongguk and his band are going somewhere no other Korean band or artist can even touch, and while we’re on the subject- Axel Choi can eat a dick! Jeongguk’s not doing so bad for a Busan boy working at 7-Eleven, and while Jeongguk’s drinking champagne like a King on the top of the charts, it’s hard to see everybody else at the bottom.

August Blue leave the BBC Broadcasting House, on their way to the hotel for their last two nights in London before heading back to America. It doesn’t quite feel real yet, for Jeongguk to say that his band have sold out two nights at the O2 Academy Brixton. Admittedly, it’s not as big as their shows in America, which similarly happens to be where most of their fans are located, but for a first time in the UK, it’s a dream to see it sold out with his band's name and faces on billboards nearby.

Beside him in the black van, August Blue’s bassist Hoseok sighs deeply and fastens his seatbelt, his hands immediately rummaging into his coat pocket to pull out his phone. Nevertheless, a smile does dance on his lips; a few fans had gathered outside the building to see them off, as well as welcome them when they arrived for their Live Lounge recording and interview. It still feels surreal for Jeongguk to see his face on shirts, and to hear people call his name. As the car begins to pull out of the car park, Jeongguk squints through the darkened glass at the fans, a bright smile on his face as they cheer, right until the car is out of the building vicinity.

“Should arrive at the hotel in thirty.” From the passenger seat, August Blue’s manager twists to face the band in the back seats. Jeongguk barely lifts his face to see him, his eyes glancing over and then moving back out the window, watching London pass by in a blur. “Try and get some shut-eye. Good job today, guys.”

“Thanks, coach,” Seokjin replies. It’s always Seokjin who does the talking, taking the role of Big Bro whenever August Blue’s lead vocal and, let’s face it, the reason why they have fans, Jeongguk, isn’t feeling particularly chatty, which is more often than not. “Let’s keep working hard, yeah?”

The question is directed out to everybody in the van, and Jeongguk finally looks over. He nods, gently and smiles as if it hurts him to be genuine, and then his attention is back out the window, his mind back with the fans who had screamed for him, his heart filled with the warmth of the memory.

It’s good to be loved, to be accepted. It’s good to be successful when people doubted you could do it.

THE DEVILS ARE DANCING. (VENICE)

“It sounds really good, Jeongguk. Want me to run it one more time?”

Jeongguk shrugs the weight of his jacket off his shoulders, twisting the cable attaching to his headphones so they unravel around his body and raises his thumb through the glass to the rest of the studio. On cue, the familiar sound of the opening melody to August Blue’s updated track, Hold Your Breath, floods through the speakers, slightly tinny but nonetheless clear for all to hear. While Sejin, August Blue’s manager, aids the producer by pointing out minor audio flaws, Jeongguk joins the rest of his band in the studio to gather around. The last to join the group is Seokjin, the drummer who rubs at his wrists pathetically, his duet of drumsticks poking out of his back pocket.

Sejin’s right- it does sound good.

The strums from Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon’s instruments sounds incredible, and it’s probably their strongest non-punk track of the year. Retrospectively, it sounds nostalgic, reminding Jeongguk of those summer evenings in Busan after a tiring day of school and garage-band practise with the guys. When the chorus moulds together, Jeongguk’s lips lift to a satisfied and exuberant smile, the harmonies from everybody’s vocals blending together before the chorus comes to a finale, and Namjoon’s deeper vocals come for the second round of verses.

As he listens, Jeongguk recalls the moment he sat down and wrote this song, back when he was eighteen and feeling like the world was against him. In that respect, this song means a lot to him and the band, reminiscent of a time where it felt impossible to get out of the garage and into venues. Then, when Friends brought them out of small Korean venues into charts abroad and giving them radio play, Jeongguk had stored Hold Your Breath on a memory stick and his worn out lyric book, until the right moment came for him to present it to a studio. It just so happened that ADORA, a respected and famous Korean producer based in the US-of-A, had loved the track, bringing it back to square one where Jeongguk stands still, unaware that the single has finished playing.

“It’s one of our best,” Namjoon admits bashfully, his hand brushing the back of his neck, a habit. He extends his gaze out to the rest of the band, “am I right?”

“Better than Friends?” Seokjin asks, surprised. He tilts his head as if he disagrees. “Nothing can beat Friends.” After that statement, something about another song comes up in conversation but it dies out over the sound of Hold Your Breath being rolled back and played again.

On the other side of Jeongguk, Hoseok hums and claps the younger on the shoulder, the sound of Jeongguk’s hiss ignored and silenced by the excited discussion over the track by the producers, lunch menus between Seokjin and Namjoon. With a slight wince, Jeongguk looks over at the bassist.

“It’s all thanks to you!” Hoseok says, a tight but honest smile on his face. “Without you, there’d be no songs. I’m telling you, we knew you were special!”

“Thanks, Hobi,” Jeongguk replies quietly. “Let’s hope people like it and it sells.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Hoseok muses, frowning. “Just because it has a story doesn’t mean it won’t sell. Honestly, Guk, this one’s great. It’s gonna be amazing.”

Like always, Jeongguk finds that difficult to believe, despite records and albums selling luxuriously every time. It’s mandatory to doubt, especially when you’ve got a lot to lose; August Blue are just another band, another group of guys trying to make a name for themselves across the pond. Right now, they’re not huge, not as big as Jeongguk wants them to be- they can sell out a couple arenas, top charts and headline shows, but they’ve still got a long way to go, still got the prejudice of being foreign. If anything, that only motivates them more. Nothing feels better than proving the white man wrong.

“When it’s finished, we’ll have a promising B-side for the album,” starts Adora, the producer looking over her shoulder with satisfaction at the five guys. “I’d like to run through Dancer in the Dark, though? Adjust the drums, maybe add more to the sax?”

Jeongguk nods, taking a quick sip of water from a bottle on top of the small cabinet pushed to the wall of the studio. “Might work better as the A, actually. Guys, what’dya think?”

“Yeah, sure,” Namjoon replies. “It’s a good song- will probably look better with a music video too. Want us back in the booth for it?”

Adora shakes her head, rolling the song back up. “Nah. Just gonna listen for now. Good job, guys.”

With that, and the familiar opening melody of Dancer in the Dark filtering through the speakers, Sejin claps his hands and gives a thumb to the rest of the band, sending them off for an hour or two until they’re needed again. In ADORABLE TRAP Records, singers were more often than not props, voices for her to play with. Jeongguk provides a demo, a rough idea of what the song should sound like and Adora works her magic, changing tones and amplifying the bass, creating something magical and sensational for when August Blue regroup in the studio at a later time. The band trust Adora and her team, considering she’s half the reason why they’re big worldwide in the first place.

THREE AM is August Blue’s anticipated first full length album, after many months of EP’s and mini albums, alongside the handful of covers accumulated over the years. ATR expects it to be completed by the end of the week, with only minor final touches needed on a select few of the tracks, eleven seamless and sensually exciting songs ready to release to the budding and hungry public. Like always, the pressure of perfection hangs over the studio, intoxicating and infuriating, and as soon as he can escape the room, Jeongguk inhales the clean and purified air of the outer studio, where a leather sofa sits beside a flickering vending machine that’s surely seen better days.

Hoseok groans, massaging the cramp out of his shoulder with his leather jacket still in his hand, spinning wildly with the arms extended out, hugging the air. “God, I’m so fucking hungry. Shall we go out?”

“Mm,” Namjoon agrees, “sounds good. Guk, Jin, you in for some food?”

Somewhere behind Jeongguk, Seokjin sighs loudly- a noise that has the nerve to sound like a whine, childish and ungrateful. “I need to find new drumsticks. Look at the state of these things.” Over his shoulder, Jeongguk spies the blunt ends of Seokjin’s sticks, the smooth and rounded ends frayed and close to splintering.

“How did that even happen?” Hoseok asks incredulously, while Seokjin’s distinct laughter rises in volume.

“Don’t ask,” Seokjin shakes his head in reply. “Anyway, won’t take long. Isn’t that one store nearby? The one owned by the Daegu guy?”

Namjoon confirms this. Not too far away from ATR, located in a renovated storage house in Venice, there is a comfortably successful and trustworthy store that August Blue aren’t strangers to; DBOY is one of the best, expensive and well respected amongst musicians who frequent LA. Jeongguk recognises the name, as if on command picturing the small guy who runs it in his head. 

Of course, it’s not owned by him- DBOY is known for being established and owned by Min Dowoon, a retired music producer whose name is legendary amongst artists and most certainly intimidating to the likes of Busan boys like Jeongguk. Regardless, it is his son, Yoongi, who pretty much runs the place. From what Jeongguk can vaguely remember from the last time he met with Yoongi, he recalled the aforementioned to have a fine and grand collection of ostentatious instruments and equipment. As for the seller himself- well, Yoongi can be a little bit of a nouveau-riche, perhaps even unapproachable, but it’s not as if people go to DBOY looking for a conversation.

Jeongguk might be the lead vocalist of the band, but he most certainly does not regard himself the leader. Due to this fact, he stares back at the other members of the band, waiting for a decision to be made for him. While on stage, Jeongguk enjoys playing pretend and acting as if the world was his for the taking, his for his pleasure, off-stage he enjoyed living quietly and comfortably, some might say obediently, shying under the authority of his elder band-members.

“What? Yeah, of course,” Namjoon replies almost immediately. “It’s on the way to that Korean place we went to last time we came here.”

Taehyung sounds zealous at the mentioning of the Korean restaurant, which pretty much means everybody’s mind has been made up. When Seokjin catches up with Jeongguk and wraps his longer arms around him playfully, Jeongguk finally lets himself loosen the tension carved into his skin from the studio, being pulled and pulling Seokjin out of the studio and into the sunny street.

The drive to DBOY is neither long or difficult, considering the traffic has decided to fall on their side of luck today. Hoseok, who enjoys being the designated driver for the band whenever he can help it, turns right and pulls the car into the staff-only car park, uncaring for the signs that turn him away and parks awkwardly near the shrubs behind the store. 

Without being affected in the face of Seokjin’s disbelieving protests against Hoseok’s parking preferences, Jeongguk undoes his seatbelt in a grouchy silence and hops out, feeling the underneath of his knees aching due to the tightness of his jeans. The front face of his knees are torn, the tan skin poking out and slightly red from where, out of unhealthy habit, he scratches his skin, the only source of colour aside from his skin being the mustard of his shoes, comfy and worn out of love.

He always forgets just how warm America is- not that it’s not welcomed, of course. Only, now he half wishes he hadn’t worn an all-black ensemble, the sun hot on his neck and underarms. The rest of August Blue take their gentle time getting out of the hired vehicle, a cacophony on the right side where Seokjin and Hoseok have stepped out, arguing over the angle of the tyres as if it genuinely makes any difference considering the car is out of sight from the public, meaning it’s bothering nobody at all besides Seokjin, who appears to be the only person complaining. 

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes, over it, and brushes his untamed parting out of his eyes carefully, avoiding catching the curled strands on the bar of his eyebrow piercing.

DBOY, like always, is quiet and glorious, rising high against the bungalow-sized stores surrounding the lot. Its architecture is refined, boxy and brown and all-in-all American, a copy of every brown bricked building you’d see in the movies. And yet, it still stands out, with bright yellow accents like the colour of Jeongguk’s shoes, similarly promoted within the interior if Jeongguk remembers correctly. 

The first time Jeongguk had come here it had been with acquiesce, mostly just to shut Seokjin up after he read a few five star reviews online. That was around about the time Taehyung had joined the band, with little rockstar aura and a gift for the keyboard and saxophone, which incredibly added an accent to August Blue’s music that helped them chart worldwide, a Korean The 1975 as a headline which didn’t seem all that bad, given the leader of the latter seemed down to Earth about it. 

Jeongguk now cannot deny that DBOY offers something to a piece of music that quite literally no other can, hence why he sets off first towards the oversized yellow door and pushes it open with all its weight. Like Yoongi and his brusque facade, Jeongguk’s not shocked to find the door is a heavy metal, requiring attention to push it open, but yet it always catches him off guard, as if he’s expecting it to get easier each time.

Once inside, the all too familiar sound of I Want To Break Free greets his ears, the sound echoey and tinny, like you’d expect for a building with a high ceiling decorated with pipes drenched in the signature yellow. It is bright, and chilly as he enters due to the air-conditioning, yet the warmth engulfing him as all of the band enter and the door closes. On a good day, DBOY is virtually empty; majority of their orders are online and dealt with by another customs manager that is not the staff on duty, which coincidentally is how Yoongi likes it, considering he’s a bit of a black sheep, not exactly enthusiastic about talking when he can help it.

While Hoseok and Taehyung make a b-line towards the vinyls and collection of photographs that Yoongi displays in order to show off how many celebrities he’s had the delight of selling to, Jeongguk follows behind Seokjin and Namjoon as they head towards the desk, pushed towards the back of the store behind endless stacks of records, the left side of the store displaying a rare and gorgeous collection of instruments that Jeongguk ogles at as he passes. 

Yoongi is a personal collector of vintages, including exact pieces and similarly replicas, the newer models closer to the desk where the cameras can keep an extra eye on their condition. Jeongguk has half an idea to make a directional change and head right, but the opening to the operative desk appears before him, or over the shoulder of Namjoon as he walks behind him.

DBOY feels abnormally silent today, not even the distinct humming of Yoongi detectable in the stacks. Namjoon purses his lips, looking around half-heartedly before moving towards the desk, raising his hand to drum his fingers upon the varnished dark wood. The dull sound of his fingertips brings Jeongguk’s head away from the instruments, and similarly, a head from a book.

At first, Jeongguk’s only half-looking. In blunt honesty, he’s not too interested in whoever is behind the desk, a sigh leaving between his lips as he buries his hands into the pockets of his jeans with great difficulty due to the tightness, something which attracts the eyes of the little dove behind the desk, her eyes darting to the refined bulge of his biceps and veins crawling on his forearms.

“Oh,” comes a gentle voice that, with reluctance, pulls Jeongguk’s eyes back over. “Sorry. I didn’t even hear you come in! I didn’t even hear the bell…”

Namjoon’s eyebrows pull upwards. “You have a bell?”

“Yeah...I think?” Questionable. “Well, I thought we did...I bet Yoongi took it out again. Fucker, he doesn’t tell me anything.”

Seokjin leans backwards on one foot, taking a peek back towards the doors where, hoorah, there is a bell on the wall above the entrance. “Oh, look at that. Guess you do have a bell.”

“Well,” finishes the voice, and Jeongguk takes the chance to look at the little display on top of the desk, a complementary addition that spells out the cashiers name in a disgustingly ordinary font. Y/N is what it reads today, which Jeongguk makes a note of and looks away from at the same time. “That bell is definitely broken. Huh. Anyway, sorry. Can I help you?”

“Yoongi here?” Namjoon asks, his weight now entirely reliant on the weight of the desk. By this point, Jeongguk has led himself over to the instruments, the only sight of him being his back marked and outlined by the clinginess of his tee.

You nod once, smiling and slamming the book from your lap on the top of the desk. Never did Namjoon expect for the title to read The Encyclopedia of Sharks, and as you spin in your chair to heckle in the back office, Namjoon glances at Seokjin over his shoulder with an amused smile, his eyes gesturing back to the book earning Seokjin a snigger.

“...and you didn’t tell me the bell was broken at the door.”

Your voice enters the store once more from the back office, accompanied by the smaller frame of Yoongi as he discards a tinfoil ball into the trash underneath the desk.

“Sorry. Y/N, the bell at the door is broken,” Yoongi deadpans, and you sneer in reply, tugging away from his childish and playful smile to be seated. When he’s decided he’s finished fondly looking at you, Yoongi addresses the band in the room, a secondary smile lifts the corners of his lips. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, tour,” Namjoon offers as an explanation.

“Don’t sweat it,” Yoongi shrugs in reply. “You recording?”

“As we speak,” Seokjin pipes in. “And, look- went to some stores in Vancouver for sticks last year and got given this!” His tone is elevated with genuine aghast, holding up his drumsticks and Yoongi pulls a face.

“That’s what you get for going somewhere other than here,” Yoongi frowns. “Come with me. The newest collection actually just came in. You all in here? Keep sticky fingers away from my signed records.”

The remainder of their conversation is muted for you, as you watch the group of guys shuffle away from the desk and towards the display of instruments. Whereas Yoongi holds an extensive knowledge on music and instruments, you can happily and readily admit that it is not within your comfort zone.

Truth be told, the only reason you work at DBOY is for money, and because Yoongi happens to be a relative willing to pay you more than you deserve. Family history is the reasoning for Yoongi’s undying devotion to music, alongside a half-completed degree in sound engineering that he tells people he’s got, because the two years he braved University sure as hell didn’t happen for no reason. 

As for you, you prefer the less audible arts, the ones starting and stopping with paintbrushes and splashes of colour. If someone were to ask, your job at DBOY offers a daily observation of the various album covers dotted around the store, ready to be fingered and thumbed when you’re changing the display shelves, or cleaning the trays.

In simpler terms, Yoongi is the expert. You’re just the person who sits behind the desk and pretends to be a professional.

“Newer Hickory over here,” says Yoongi, as he leads the three ducklings through the store towards the lined stacks of drumsticks. In awe, like a child in a candy store, Seokjin surges forward and gapes at the selection, his eyes glued to a signature collection, signed and overwhelmingly expensive. “Oh, yeah. Queen. Signed by Roger Taylor himself, wanna feel ‘em?”

Seokjin does want; his eyes light up like tiny lamps and they widen in size, followed by the rise and fall of his feet as he hops with literal overflowing excitement. Namjoon laughs at the sight of it, the sound eventually calling Hoseok and Sticky-Fingers-Taehyung away from the pride of Yoongi’s photo collection and towards the rest of the band. Something deep within Jeongguk claws, a smile on his face as he watches Seokjin get visibly excited over the drumsticks formerly belonging to Roger Taylor. Even Jeongguk himself, despite the sudden appearance of his angst, oohs and aahs at the stick set, being directed by Yoongi to the line of new guitars and boxes on show.

“New face?”

By the time Hoseok has settled with the group, Yoongi looks up from the set of Les Paul that Namjoon is admiring for its matte polish and notices Hoseok’s gaze pointed in your direction. Yoongi follows, his chin lifting with satisfactory pride when he sees you’re reading, as always, unfocused on the group and submerged in your own world.

When you wanted, you could be excited about celebrities when they came into DBOY, but there was honestly the high chance that you didn’t even know August Blue. Considering Yoongi knew them through connections and through a year exchange programme in Australia where he had met Jeongguk and gave him advice for the band, he of course felt familiar, close enough to actually consider the members to be friends.

“Sorta,” he admits in reply. “She’s been here a while now. Y/N.”

“She’s pretty,” Namjoon comments, which, to no surprise, irritates Yoongi. He glares in the direction of the guitarist and scowls, his face pulled up with disgust.

That’s when Jeongguk looks over, drinking in the sight of you for the first time ever. Usually, Jeongguk takes great pride in the fact that he fears attachment, therefore closing himself off emotionally to everybody outside of August Blue. Due to this fact, he almost never finds himself interested in anybody, his limitations at sex which, even then, he doesn’t engage in often. 

He spies on you from where he is standing, next to the electric guitar displays, watching carefully at the way you carry yourself, what you choose to show people. What you are doing now is boondoggle, skimming through pages you’ve read before to present the image of you being busy. By luck, you had dressed more nicer than usual for this date- your hair pulled half up and half down, the lilac scrunchy keeping the curls together and a black and white striped dress wrapping around your body to where Jeongguk predicts could be your knee.

Without being modest, there’s really nothing world-stopping about you. Jeongguk knows this as he stares at you; he’s had better, and definitely had worse. God forbid it, but you have the audacity to look normal, mistakenly placed in the store, sticking out like a thumb that is sore.

“She doesn’t look like she should be working here,” Jeongguk throws in, offers almost, and Yoongi regards him with the raise of his brows, an amused smile on his face.

A deep groan rises out of Namjoon’s chest. “Here we go. He always does this- every time there’s a pretty girl, he gets like this.”

“Gets like what?” Jeongguk asks, scoffing.

“Jerky,” Hoseok agrees, laughing and pointing a finger at Jeongguk accusingly. When he silences with small gasps of amusement, he smiles and says, “did you know it’s a turn off for girls?”

“Then tell me why I have more game than you?” Jeongguk quips.

Hoseok just laughs, and both of them know it’s false, considering Hoseok and his unofficial girlfriend have been hooking up for the last five months, whereas Jeongguk has remained single and sexless; which he doesn’t care about, especially when there’s a million other things he could be doing and worrying over. Comfort previously found in pillowcases and sexual endauvers can now be found in white powders and green liquids, either- either warm enough to keep him happy, at least until Seokjin tells him he should stop and put it to rest.

Yoongi quietly twists the key in the display lock after confirming that Seokjin wants the sticks in his hand. “She’s good. She does her job, and in return, I let her do what she wants when nobody’s in the store. Give it a break, yeah?”

Jeongguk scoffs with surrender, raising his shoulders as he lets it drop at Yoongi’s request. Meanwhile Yoongi answers questions about the instruments for sale, lined up for the band to gawk at with ungraciousness, Jeongguk actually turns back around. Another elongated sigh leaves his mouth, the sound of creeping boredom, and finally, his gaze once again settles on yourself. 

You’ve moved since he last looked over; the book on sharks is set on top of the desk again, and now you’re risen. From where he is standing, the desk curves, revealing that his predictions on dress length were fruitless considering the stretch of your dress rises above the knee, bunching around your thigh comfortably. He has to respect it- it’s hot in Venice.

Without particularly wanting to, Jeongguk’s legs wander from his original spot towards the desk, his eyes elsewhere to feign disinterest. The truth of the matter is that he isn’t really interested, unless you counted the dull rise of arousal in the pit of his stomach. That being said, Jeongguk glances up at your face once more and sucks air into his cheeks, hollowing the skin as he knocks on his heels and turns away from you before you can notice. Namjoon was right, to some extent. You were pretty.

“You like The Clash?”

A sweet voice hauls Jeongguk’s attention up and over towards the corner of the desk, where on the other side you stand with both hands flat on the surface, your entire body lifting your weight cutely. Jeongguk’s heart leaps and he glares down at his hands, finding London Calling in his hands, indicating that whilst on his solo mission of pretending to be preoccupied near you, he had just picked up the first thing in front of him.

Jeongguk clears his throat gruffly and shakes his head once. “No.”

For a few seconds, nothing is said. “Oh.” And Jeongguk hopes you’ll leave it there, let him pretend he’s invisible until he’s thought of something to say, but as always, his prayers are ignored. “Do you need help finding something?”

“No,” Jeongguk grits out. He speaks with acrimony, the tone at first catching you off-guard until he looks up, and his eyes tell a quiet story that makes your mouth close tightly. “I’m browsing. Am I not allowed to browse?”

Whether he likes or expects it, the way Jeongguk speaks makes a grin spread across your face, covering your original expression of surprise. He’s not quite sure how to feel about this, or what to make of how his chest feels when it happens.

“Sorry,” you reply, not exactly sounding apologetic. “It’s my job to ask, I guess. Well...enjoy your browsing. If you need me…” Repeatedly, his gaze lifts from the stack of CDs back towards you and it is only when you look away that he allows himself to slip, the smallest of frowns tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Although he knows better, Jeongguk sighs and pushes himself away from his end of the desk. It slides, semi-circular with the front in the store and behind it in its own secluded room, decorated with posters and old lockers that are used for storage. It doesn’t take looking up to register the fact that Jeongguk has moved next to you, parallel; something about Jeongguk feels particularly distinct, heavy and intimidating with the smell of hazelnut that enriches woody elements, a signature male smell that fills your nose.

“So.” Jeongguk starts over, his voice clipped but also clear, as though encouraging a conversation. To you, it feels unpredictable, almost as if talking to him was absurd; to Jeongguk, it is a bravado. “You like sharks.”

Out of surprise, your attention snaps towards him. His expression gives nothing away, and it is only when he raises his eyebrows expectantly that you remember the book, that stupid book you found under the desk when you clocked in this morning after your nine-am seminar. The Encyclopedia of Sharks, smiling razor blades face up at you and an embarrassed heat rises in your body.

“Um, not really?” you confess, avoiding the scrutiny of his stare. Jeongguk’s face is levelled into unamusement, challenging the fact you don’t like sharks in the same way you questioned his interest in The Clash. A bewildered smirk dawns on his face and you smile, tightly and revealing a dimple near your jaw that Jeongguk’s attention is pulled to. “I like Sharknado, though.”

“Right,” Jeongguk replies, finishing with a laugh that is mostly air through his teeth, a snigger of sorts, and he shakes his head downwards, fluffing his hair all within the same movement. It shocks you, genuinely, to hear a laugh come out from his mouth.

While he is busy sniggering to himself, because apparently what you said tickled his remaining sense of humour, you seize the opportunity to dance your eyes across his body. “Your tattoos are pretty.” It leaves your mouth carelessly, but Jeongguk looks up with a smile on his face, a gorgeous set of pearly whites on show.

“Yeah?” he asks, and then he flexes his arms unintentionally, peering at the black ink decorating his skin. Your mouth waters inside, soaking in the sight of him before it’s snatched away, like all the good things in your life. “Thanks.”

“Mhm,” you offer, feeling mortified.

“I saw you’re close with Yoongi,” Jeongguk mentions, after a short pause. “Boyfriend? Best friend? Super close colleagues?”

“What? Ew, no. Yoongi’s my cousin. Well. You know, when someone just becomes a cousin ‘cos you’re close,” you reply, and Jeongguk nods casually, pursing his lips, and it ends there. “Also...none of your business.” He smirks.

On cue, an eruption of laughter simmers from across the store where Yoongi and the rest of Jeongguk’s friends are gathered, and you swallow the lump in your throat and glance at him, finding he hasn’t looked away. “Are you guys, like...in a band, or something?”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. Should he be offended or relieved that you don’t know who he is?

“Something like that,” he nods.

“Can’t be that popular then, if I don’t know you,” you tease, fighting the urge to laugh when Jeongguk’s face falls dramatically. “I’m kidding. What did you say your name was again?”

“We’re called August Blue.”

“No, I meant your name,” you laugh.

Jeongguk splutters, coughing nothing out of his throat. “Oh. Jeongguk.”

There is no reasonable explanation behind why Jeongguk’s stomach feels weird when you smile- it is an unspoken rule that Jeongguk doesn’t do feelings. Jeongguk doesn’t do romance period, only hooks up on the rare occasion that he’s high enough to feel something for someone other than himself. Yet something is unsettling inside, bubbling like the top layer of boiling water in a cauldron, threatening to spill out in waves.

“Well, Jeongguk from August Blue- who I shall be indulging in very soon, as in, when you leave the store and I can do it without you watching me-,” you pause when he laughs again. You wonder if he laughs often, or if you’re one of the lucky ones. “-, it’s a pleasure meeting you.”

“Is it?” he questions disbelievingly.

You tilt your head curiously. “Why wouldn’t it be? I mean, aside from you coming for me doing my job.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Whatever. And, I’m just saying.”

A playfulness grabs at your shirt. “Why? Are you dangerous, Jeongguk?” Your eyes narrow into slits, challenging, and Jeongguk just smirks, exhaling softly. There is something charismatic about him, that’s for sure.

“All I’m saying, is that guys like me aren’t good for girls like you,” Jeongguk settles, unprepared for the unexpected laughter that bursts from your chest, bouncing around the room until Jeongguk actually feels somewhat uncomfortable. “What?”

But the laughter is uncontrollable, loud enough to bring Yoongi back to the desk questioningly, followed by the rest of August Blue as they shadow Yoongi like lost puppies. Yoongi pushes the small gate open and his eyes widen at you hunched over on the desk, secondly acknowledging Jeongguk as he stares deadpan at you, wondering what it was he said that was so comedic.

“You make it sound so simple,” you tell him, once the laughter has subsided. “It’s cute that you think you know what kind of girl I am.”

Hoseok side-eyes the situation as Seokjin fishes out his credit card, feeling as though they’ve all interrupted something they shouldn’t have. What is more shocking is the fact that Jeongguk accepts the challenge- he’s normally isolative with his voice when around new people, only comfortable at home or on the stage surrounded by people screaming lyrics he died to dream up and write down.

“Aren’t I right though?” Jeongguk asks, smiling like he’s got it figured out. “The pretty innocent girls like you...I’m the kind of guy your family warned you about.” While Namjoon snorts, Taehyung nods, supporting Jeongguk’s statement as you look over his shoulder at him.

Before you can even speak, Yoongi barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he returns Seokjin’s card. “Guk, you have no clue.”

If there’s one thing Jeongguk dislikes, it’s feeling as though he’s missing out on something. Back and forth, he looks at both yourself and Yoongi, waiting for an explanation. Yoongi prolongs it, finding sadistic enjoyment in the gradual irritation solidifying on his face, his tongue prodding his inner cheek with a bored expression to match.

“Dude, her daddy’s Axel Choi,” Yoongi snorts, and he laughs loudly when Jeongguk’s whole face drops to the floor, the butterflies in his stomach replaced with an instant sourness, like the bitter burn of alcohol after one too many glasses.

Bewildered, Jeongguk is rendered speechless, and while Yoongi burps laughter and makes a note of the stock now that Seokjin has purchased something, the respective remaining four members of August Blue share cautious glances, apprehensively watching what Jeongguk does or says. Saying Axel Choi feels stupid and minute, but within Jeongguk’s world, it has the same consequence as saying Lord Voldemort in Harry Potter. Whatever attempts Jeongguk has made to forgive or forget what Axel Choi once said to him in that 7-Eleven in Busan is fruitless, the judging and patronising tone clear in his ears, flooding back like a PTSD.

“Wait, what the fuck?”

“Ooh,” you start, lifting up with excitement, “what did he dooo?”, at the same time that Namjoon warningly mutters Jeongguk’s name.

“You look nothing like him,” Jeongguk says dumbly.

“That’s kinda where the step comes in. Stepdad, no blood relation, thank fuck!”

“Come on, Guk, it’s not like she was even there when he shat on all your hopes and dreams,” Yoongi frowns, raising his hand slightly in an effort to diffuse the tension. Purposefully, he ignores the way you look at Yoongi with question, realising instantly that Jeongguk’s behaviour isn’t a matter of personality but instead pride, a desperation to prove himself. “Lay off.”

“He’s family.”

“Is he fuck,” you snort, the sound and language together making Jeongguk even more confused, his head pounding with a mixture of nausea and relief, the upset of his seventeen year old self something he can’t quite shrug off, like the memory of a bad dream. “And, come on. Isn’t that unfair? Put it this way- your dad kills someone, should we go to jail too just because we’re family?” Jeongguk says nothing. “Besides, he’s been married to my Mom for like, six years? And I still don’t like him or get along with him!”

“We just have...bad experiences with him,” Namjoon admits, not forgetting to throw a glare in Jeongguk’s temperamental direction, and he reacts with a jerk, an annoyed scoff leaving his mouth.

Jeongguk crosses his arms. “He told us we’d never succeed. The fucker basically said we didn’t have the talent to be big.”

“And yet, here you are,” you point out thoughtfully, and Jeongguk pauses, acknowledging you fully. “People always succeed when others are negative. I guess we’ll just have to prove him wrong, hm?”

The funny part is that Jeongguk absolutely knows that you are right. In spite of the jarring fact that Axel Choi’s memory is now back in his life with the news of your connections to him, Jeongguk is fully aware of how none of this is your fault. Jeongguk knows better than anybody that baseless judgements were more often unhelpful and toxic than not, and instantly, an apology is brewing in his mouth, words connected by thin strings in his brain, formulating two simple words that feel impossible to mouth. 

Alas, rockstars and their inflated egos; Jeongguk swallows the words back down, battling the urge to say what’s truly on his mind because he’s afraid of what might come out in its place.

So he walks.

Dejected and confused, Jeongguk spares a look at everybody in the room before shaking his head, as if trying to get something out of his head. The worry that slightly pools in your stomach at the sight of it worsens when he storms back down the length of the stacks, closely followed by Hoseok who is a foot away from calling his name. For the rest of the band, it seems, this is instrinctic of Jeongguk, and they quietly but speedily finish up and follow suit. Before he exits, Namjoon smiles over at you, something hidden in the movement that assures you it’s not your fault, even when your agape mouth and stuttering starts suggest you feel otherwise.

Jeongguk makes it out of DBOY before his lungs cave inwards, the hot smell of air pumping into his body as he steps outside to catch his breath. Hoseok’s hand comfortingly presses between his shoulder blades as he finally catches back up with the younger, and Jeongguk refrains from snatching himself away. The demon in his head cackles and the desperate angel pets his hair, tells him that if he pushes more people away, he’ll have nobody. Jeongguk’s not sure if he’s heard that angel speak before.

Hoseok guides Jeongguk back towards the car, silently accepting that Jeongguk didn’t mean it. He never does. He quietly accepts it, patting his leg when Jeongguk sits down once the car is unlocked. Jeongguk doesn’t say a word, not even when the rest of August Blue pile in the car, animatedly talking about the Korean restaurant they’re planning to eat at next. Clockwork routine, they never bring it up afterwards.

The car pulls away and Jeongguk winds the window down with a frown. He’d like a cigarette.

Not that Jeongguk has been counting, but it has been four days since August Blue had visited DBOY. 

Against his tight schedules consisting of long hauls in Adora’s studio, revising songs and making minor changes to each track in preparation for the album release in a few days time, the mere memory of DBOY has been the last thing and least important thing on his mind. In sooth, he doesn’t think about it until he’s alone, vulnerable in his own personal comforts surrounded by white and red. The memory haunts him, keeps him awake for no reason. Jeongguk wishes he could go back, wipe the slate clean, listen to the angel and not be such a prick. He can do this- he does do this.

On the following day, Jeongguk wakes up with a free schedule, waking in bed with the dark grey sheets belted around his lower waist. Casting a glance to his phone that lights up distractedly with notifications, he sees that the time reads eleven am and he yawns. Knowing the rest of the band, they’ve probably scattered already; Hoseok had mentioned something off-handedly last night about spending the day with Roseanne, and Namjoon would most likely be reading alone or exploring with Taehyung, the final man of the hour, Seokjin, sleeping in until it hurts to sleep.

He could do the same, but he doesn’t. Instead, Jeongguk gets himself up and ready, finding his body lead itself back in the direction of DBOY, only realising that he’s come back when he’s outside the front blinking up at the sign.

Somewhere down the street, the sound of screaming reaches his ears- sometimes it’s hard to escape the fans who long for a glimpse at their idols, and to avoid them catching on as to where he’s fled to, Jeongguk hurls himself through the heavy metal door and into the store. It comes as no surprise that it’s empty inside, cool again and this time bursting the lyrics to a Fleetwood Mac record he can’t quite remember the name of but recognises.

The long walk down the length of the aisle is intimidating, daunting as Jeongguk walks and sees nobody behind the desk. Aside from the echoed sound of Fleetwood Mac, the store is virtually silent- admittedly, there is a small group of teenagers at the other end talking quietly, but they are so muted that Jeongguk at first doesn’t realise they are there. Instead he continues forward, slowing significantly when he reaches the desk and finds absolutely nobody in attendance.

For a second, Jeongguk considers leaving. However, the herd of fans he had stalking him outside are no doubt still outside somewhere, and as soon as he considers it, the sound of your voice makes his head snap up attentively. The door that joins the desk space to the back office rattles slowly and then pulls open, and Jeongguk inhales a breath when you step out, as charming as you were five days prior.

Jeongguk is all you see when you pick your chin up, staring at his face closely as he hovers lumpishly, looking out of place. Before he can speak, you regard his appearance, a flattering mixture of tonal blacks; the tight leather jacket covering a black roll neck and tight skinny jeans, even the trademark face-mask that has been pulled below his face, hanging by his neck.

“Oh,” you breathe softly, stunned. “Jeongguk, right?…”

“Hi,” he replies, and you take pleasure in noticing the dulled volume of his voice. “You’re here.”

He considers it a win when you smile. “Well, I do work here.”

“Yeah, I know, I don’t know why I said that,” Jeongguk mutters. “I just...Are you free?”

You make your way towards the desk, gently kicking an empty storage box with your feet. “Sadly, I am always free. You know, considering Yoongi is so popular, this shop is always empty. What’s up with that?” It’s rhetorical, and Jeongguk laughs gently. “What’s up? Left something here? I didn’t think you’d come back...well, after…”

Jeongguk frowns immediately, the unmissable darkened gaze of regret on his face. “That’s actually why I came back. Look.” He sighs, deeply and loudly. “I know it’s not your fault. With Axel.” As he speaks, your gaze is glued on him, your eyes occasionally scanning various parts of his face. “And it’s so fucking unfair for me to hold you against things he said before you even knew him, or whatever, yknow? I guess it just caught me off guard.”

You nod genuinely. “It happens.”

“And, look, I know I don’t even really know you that well, but I can tell you’re just nothing like him,” Jeongguk continues, his temper rising slowly. “You’re kind, and funny, and he’s just an asshole and-” But he stops. And, what? And, he’s still family.

“You’re right,” you agree, laughter spilling from your tongue. “No, he’s the biggest asshole. And his music sucks, let’s be honest.” Jeongguk’s mouth opens, like he wants to speak. “No wonder it took him fourteen years to make a hit…” And he laughs, loudly and in agreement. 

It must be a rarity to see him smile, to hear him laugh; with your heart in the sky, staring at Jeongguk laugh makes you feel warm, your hands quivering with satisfaction at the way his eyes curve into horizontal brackets, like moons, his teeth free with the comfort of knowing he’s safe being happy.

So, explicitly, he doesn’t say sorry like he wanted to. He tries- the words are right there, it would be easy, it is easy. As always, you are understanding, sympathetic to Jeongguk as he struggles to get his words out coherently. You know what he means. You like that he cared enough to try, anyway.

Realistically, he could have left it there, and maintained that stereotypical air of mystery and unavailability he’s used to showing people. On the contrary, Jeongguk finds more reasons to slink back towards DBOY, until he’s entirely familiar with your work schedule, having accidentally turned up when you were at a lecture, and had to suffer the pressing curiosity of your cousin. Yoongi had been so over Jeongguk pretending he was here out of personal pleasure of being surrounded by music that he had eventually just told him your work times, prompting Jeongguk into working harder in the studio to ensure more free time.

Like always, nobody in the band minded. If it meant Jeongguk was investing his spare time in something other than his own loneliness, they were happy to let it be. As for yourself, the reoccuring showing of Jeongguk in DBOY was at first, something you anticipated until the third showing where he had turned up in what you think might be his best look yet. Finally, he wears splashes of colour, his aura breathing with life as he turns up to the store wearing blue denim jeans, with maroon boots and a red beanie over his hair which has been flattened.

Each visit from the man is memorable in its own way, for either parties; you gradually learn that Jeongguk was the lead singer of August Blue, his accent distinctly Australian no thanks to his mother’s dual citizenship that resulted in many family holidays out there, and the year abroad that had chanced him to meet Yoongi. In return, Jeongguk learns that you haven’t even turned twenty yet, your birthday approaching soon, and that your a dilettante, knowing virtually nothing technical about music and instead comfortable in the field of physical art, a first year studying visual art and media.

Jeongguk learns all of this on the third visit. On the fourth, he finds out that you’ve finally listened to his bands music in time for their album release the following day, now in love with the truth of their lyrics, a direct quote from your mouth that Jeongguk remembers perfectly. And on the day of THREE AM’s release, on one of his final days before tour preparations are due to start, Jeongguk finds himself in DBOY with the sound of his own voice on the speakers, and the breathtaking sight of you dancing while stacking the shelves.

It’s a new track, one off the album that dropped this morning. Dancer In The Dark plays all around him, his mind reeling when he reaches you, your back to him and hips twirling as you work. You don’t even need to turn around for Jeongguk to know that you look gorgeous- that’s something that has changed over the past few weeks of Jeongguk returning to DBOY to see you, and annoy Yoongi, respectively. 

Something inside of Jeongguk now craves you, beyond the simple lust he would have imagined. Perhaps it’s the way you didn’t know who he was, treated him like a human being rather than a God; maybe it was the way you’re so ordinary, a taste of normality Jeongguk misses, or the way you’re a relation to someone he’s been working for the past four years to prove wrong. It could well be all three.

The baby blue teddy coat over your body covers your skirt, a display of smooth and tanned legs for him to leer at, your hair once again twirled into loose curls, half up and half down, a signature style like Ariana’s high pony. 

Evidently, you’re unaware of his entry. Yoongi still hasn’t changed the bell above the door and the speakers playing his record are right above your head; this gives Jeongguk the perfect opportunity to quietly approach you from behind, waiting until the chorus fades to an end for him to carefully press his hands into your waist with a soft “boo” pushing between his lips. 

In turn, you jump, his hands momentarily cupping your waist as you move out of his grasp, turning around defensively to see who in the right mind would dare to put a hand on you, only for the guard to be dropped with reassurance once you see Jeongguk behind you, a grin on his face.

“Hi, you,” you say to him, wincing when you realise how loud the music is. “Congrats on the album release!”

Jeongguk laughs boyishly. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Mhm!” you assure, nodding with emphasis. Jeongguk follows the hint of moving away from the loud music as his voice transitions into the opening chords of a David Bowie track. “Do you even have a bad song? Like, the difference between Vibes, Dancer in the Dark and Keep it Up...gorgeous.” He laughs again, feeling over the moon at your authentic excitement. “I really love your voice.”

If humans could melt, Jeongguk would be gloop. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it, I’m glad you like it.” His brows quirk playfully, “Clearly.” He means your dancing, circular swirls to his voice, and you conceal a smile and look away quickly.

“I recognise Hold Your Breath, too,” you continue, choosing to deliberately ignore his playful comment. One might even assume it to have been flirting. “Isn’t that one of your earlier songs?”

By this point, you’ve hopped over the desk, slid over the wood as Jeongguk watched your coat and skirt hike up with the lift of your leg. “Mmm. I see you’ve done your homework,” he comments.

“I got...curious,” you defend weakly. “I like that song. I’m so glad you decided to do a studio version, it is what she deserved!”

Today might be a new record broken for How Many Times Can Jeon Jeongguk Laugh In Your Company.

“Well, there you have it. You can listen to all of it in HD to make up for me not being here for a while.” Your smile falters and Jeongguk smiles in an attempt to ease your disappointment. “We start our promotions next weekend, actually. Just a couple shows in the States, nothing huge.”

“Oh,” you nod, your voice oddly lost and spacious. “Ugh, I’d love to see you live. I bet it’s gonna sound amazing.”

A breath hitches in Jeongguk’s throat. Come on, idiot, jeers the demon inside of him. The angel slaps him on the back of the head but his words do not cease. You haven’t got all day to do it.

“Then come,” he blurts.

Mirroring him, your mouth falls round, open. “...O-M-G, I’d love to...but I’m like...broke,” you tell him, jokingly but around the truth you both know is there.

“Y/N, you can come for free, I’m inviting you,” Jeongguk explains slowly, the grin widening on his face. Awestruck, you’re lost in the beauty of it. “I want you to come. See us play, see me. You won’t have to pay for a single thing- everything’s on me.” He breathes, “Please,” added as an afterthought.

Admittedly, he hadn’t anticipated the following silence. “When?” you ask, breathily.

“Next Saturday,” Jeongguk offers, having thought about it since before the album came out. “At the Hollywood Palladium. It’s our opening show, and I’d just really, really like for you to be there.” You think about the date for a moment, smiling when you realise what day the date falls on.

“Hollywood? That’s...amazing, Jeongguk, really,” you tell him, your voice quiet still. “...Can I bring a friend? When I listened to August Blue, they were there and we both got really invested.”

A weight is lifted off Jeongguk’s shoulders knowing that his offer has been considered. He smiles brightly, the moons back out. “Depends. Is your friend male?”

Now it is your turn to grin, your weight held up by your elbows as you lean on top of the desk towards him, slotted between his hands. His familiar hazelnut scent is strong here. “Yes. He’s male, gay, and incredibly in love with my cousin.”

What Jeongguk feels is not relief, or irritation; an elevated feeling of happiness stirs in his chest. You are so unlike anybody he’s met, from the way you see the humour in everything he says, not taking him seriously enough to treat him like he’s better than everything else, and the way you make him feel like there’s something about him worth liking; to the way you’re probably the only person he’s ever met who genuinely likes the Sharknado franchise. It without a doubt goes without saying that good things pop up where you least expect them to, in people you didn’t anticipate meeting. Feeling like his head is in the clouds, Jeongguk’s lips press together into a smile, bashful in appearance and nods, satisfied.

“Okay then,” he nods, taking a second to grasp the situation before he laughs to himself, scratching his ear absentmindedly. “Here’s my number for then, then. You can call me when you arrive, and then I’ll come out and get you, or I’ll have our manager sort some things out, so you can skip the lines and get in before everyone else.”

“Alright,” you agree softly. “Thank you, Jeongguk.”

Although he shakes his head nonchalantly, feigning only a moderate amount of happiness, on the inside, Jeongguk’s body is screaming, his heart vibrating rapidly in his chest. On the other side, even when he bounces into a following conversation about your hair and the new book placed on the desk that you’ll probably read when you’re bored later today, you feel like you can’t breathe, can’t quite comprehend the fact Jeongguk is standing before you, his number in your phone, the sun unmatching his smile.

Some things don’t feel right, but being with Jeongguk isn’t one of them. Maybe luck is on your side for once.

(LOS ANGELES)

“So. You’ve decided to be late.”

Adjacent to where you’re standing, Park Jimin lies like a starfish on your bedsheets, his chin tilted up to the ceiling in agonising boredom as you fuss over your hair for the literal fifth time in the last four minutes.

Meeting Jimin was both the joy and the bane of your life, the boy being an unstable balance of chaotic and neutral, his sole purpose in life being to annoy the shit out of you. It had been a lovely sunny morning the day you first met him- only it had begun to thunderstorm the second he entered the arts classroom, pathetic fallacy. Being the quiet black sheep clearly did not always work in your favour considering the only spare seat left was the one next to you, meaning fate had decided to bring you both together to sketch still-life pears and grapes. Either that or a case of big, bad luck- the opinion differed depending on who you asked.

Regardless, here you both are; by cordial invite from Jeon Jeongguk himself, you have around twenty minutes to get to a venue that is thirty five away, and Jimin huffs for the fifth consecutive time, pointedly glancing over as you finish applying a generous amount of lipstick that no doubt will fade during the show. Your face is an art-piece, your body modestly covered in a silk buttoned shirt patterned with red flowers, tucked into some comfortable black jeans that Jimin turns his nose up at.

“They’re comfortable,” you argue weakly, finally following him to the car and deciding to do your shoes in the backseat. As half promised over text, Jeongguk sent a vehicle, the driver impatient and displeased by your tardiness but he says nothing, because it’s his job to drive, not to speak.

“Skinny jeans are the most impractical outfit for getting dicked down,” Jimin says with a clipped tone. “And isn’t it obvious that Jeongguk wants to do that?”

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. “It might not be like that.”

Jimin genuinely laughs. “Oh, come on- it totally is. Why else would he invite you backstage, send a car, and stop by at your work almost daily?”

“Maybe he wants to be friends?” you suggest, but both you and Jimin know that’s so far from the truth that you can’t even see it- you just don’t want to admit it just yet. When Jimin’s tongue darts out of his mouth with a smirk, you roll your eyes and lean down to your feet as the driver cruises down the street on the clock.

[17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: hey are you on your way?? [17:39PM] Jeongguk 🎼: havent heard from u [17:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: u ok?

About ten minutes into the drive, almost peaceful save Jimin’s random questions about Jeongguk, or the venue, neither particularly answerable at this stage, a series of notifications flood your phone. Taking the chance to answer while Jimin finds time to bully the driver into talking to him to cure his driving boredom, you glance down at the messages, your body reacting with a flush when you see Jeongguk’s name light up in bold.

[17:41PM] You: yes !!!! in the car rn

His reply is instantaneous.

[17:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cool 😋 as long as ur safe [17:42PM] Jeongguk 🎼: got worried lol

“Five minutes,” the driver calls, to nobody in particular as he pulls up to a set of traffic lights. Oblivious to speed limits, he seems to have got you there in the designated twenty, before the gates opened for the crowds outside.

[17:44PM] You: we will be there in five minutes ☺️ [17:44PM] You: : i’ll text you when we’re here [17:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok cutie, see you then 😛

You are grown, and too old to be crushing over a boy like you’re in high school, but the way Jeongguk interacts makes your toes curl with a whole new alien type of fondness, the need to giggle paramount. You refrain from doing so, because if Jimin hears he will never let you live it down. In an effort to ignore the excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins, your leg bounces erratically as the driver, who is apparently named Joe after the chauffeur bodyguard in The Princess Diaries (no thanks to Jimin and his “boredom” which borders insensitivity), pulls up in the barricaded staff car park. The fans outside have no idea: they just see a car and start screaming, their cheers making goosebumps ripple up your arms like romantic kisses.

“That makes me feel really important,” Jimin mutters, perhaps glum about the fact that he hasn’t had this much attention since he was chubby and innocent in third grade. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” you breathe, unsure as to whether or not you mean it. Nevertheless, Jimin opens the car door and steps out, instantly making a crowd gathered by the barricade scream. They scream for anything, just wanting to be heard, but being Jimin, he soaks it up as you clamber out on the other side.

Jeongguk seems particularly popular, and it probably wouldn’t look good if fans saw an unknown girl get out the car to go backstage. You know how fans are, how it’s easy to jump to conclusions without the facts. While Jimin raises his hand to teasingly wave at the girls who scream in response, you follow Bodyguard Joe to the backstage door guarded by two oversized muscular men, bowing your head as you enter and feel the heat of the backstage rooms hit you in the face.

At some point, Jimin joins you inside, shuffling around your body when he spots Yoongi appear at the end of the opening corridor. Yoongi is always invited to August Blue shows, by personal invitation of the band-members who are mostly Namjoon. Remembering that Jeongguk technically has no idea you’re here, you quickly shoot him a text message before a female staff member touches your shoulder gently, offering a lanyard with VVIP written in black ink, likely a band members handwriting. She smiles, quickly running over the safety regulations because, give her a break, it’s her damn job. You’re nodding, acknowledging her words blindly until she’s done, sending you on your way towards Taehyung who pops his head around the corner and smiles brightly when he sees you.

“Hey, you!”

Quite honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever said a word to Taehyung before. He doesn’t seem particularly awkward to speak to you despite this fact, and beckons you closer with a wave of his hand. As you draw nearer, you smell the faint aroma of vodka crossed with raspberry, clinging to his clothes and mouth as he comes close to speak so you can hear him over the heavy bass filling the speakers.

“What?” you ask him loudly, seeing his mouth move with nothing coming out. All you can hear is the recording of Obsessive on the speakers, pounding, reverberating the floor beneath your Dr Martens.

“I said,” Taehyung shouts, his lips on your ear, “Jeongguk’s waiting for you. I need a wee really badly, but he’s in the artists lounge, that way.” He points vaguely in a direction, but the sight of Jimin stepping in and out of a room indicates the general direction regardless. “Enjoy the show, yeah?”

“Course!” you nod to him, and he wastes zero seconds staring at you and legs it in the opposite direction, towards where you assume the toilets are. Your eyes follow him as he leaves in endearment; he’s cute, constantly looking bewildered and confused. It’s his almond eyes, like puppy dogs’.

But the thought of seeing Jeongguk outweighs watching Taehyung leave; you hurry down the corridor and enter the room you expect to be the artists lounge, and your breath is taken away immediately when Jeongguk is the first thing you see.

As if anticipating your entry, he stands the second you enter, and while he moves, you freeze. Jeongguk looks absolutely breathtaking: his hair is curly, falling over his face with a slight parting not directly centered, hooped earrings hanging from his earlobes, adding a sparkle secondary to the way his eyes are shining in the backstage lights. His skin is gorgeously tanned, shaded and accentuated by the slipping material of his shirt that reveals the expanse of his collarbones, the black complementing the tightness of his jeans. You don’t get to look at his shoes- he stops at your toes and you peer back up at his face, rendered speechless by the smile on his face.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says, laughing as if it’s so crazy that you’re here, actually here. Before you can even think of speaking, Jeongguk inhales a breath and brings it back in with one movement; he reaches for you, encircling his arms around you for a quick hug that you’re not going to let go to waste. As soon as he feels your hands on his back, he pulls you closer, tighter almost, one hand on your lower spine and the other on the back of your head.

The hug is genuinely short, but it feels eternal.

“You made it,” he comments, his voice so bewildered that for a moment, you’re actually confused. Jeongguk speaks insecurely and it makes your heart wrench- you wonder who hurt him before, what made him think that he wasn’t deserving of things as simple as somebody coming to a show when he asked them to.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” you tell him truthfully, your arms slipping to his forearms. “I’m excited!”

Jeongguk grins happily. “Me too! Ah, I’m happy you’re here. You look gorgeous.” And without shame, he drags his gaze up and down your body.

“That’s good, then,” comes Jimin’s thrown in comment from across the room, where he occupies one of the leather seats next to Yoongi and across from Hoseok, who fidgets skittishly and fiddles his fingers at a Rubix cube. “Do you know how close we were to being late because she was busy deciding a lip colour? Jimin should I go red or nude? Jimin does this shirt go with my shoes? Jimin should I paint my nails red or black to match?”

A laugh ripples out of Jeongguk’s chest and he looks back at you adoringly.

“That’s not how it happened,” you protest weakly, pouting when Jimin cackles and smirks. “And we made it didn’t we? Shut up before I revoke the plus one card.”

“I’m already here, though,” Jimin reasons.

“I’ll force you outside,” you reply.

Yoongi pulls a face, then, finally joining the conversation. “Y/N, you can’t even open the front door to the shop when you enter, let alone drag Jimin outside. Nice try, though.”

An offended gasp leaves your mouth and Jeongguk turns around, petting the top of your head. “It’s okay. Sometimes, even I can’t open it. Anyway- drink?”

You decline this offer, not really wanting to drink anything heavy in fear of vomiting it up when the show starts. Based on your history, throwing up when you’re overly excited seems to be a dirty habit, something Jimin is very happy sharing when you opt for a glass of water while Jeongguk carefully pours himself a glass of whiskey. He doesn’t tease or poke fun. Jeongguk simply smiles, like the story is a memory he’s fond of remembering, and nods you in the direction of the couch where he wants you to sit. It stays this way right up until the show starts, and then the chaos begins and the nerves settle.

Now, you’ve never been backstage before, never seen how crazy it gets as the show’s about to start. While the rest of the band hurry around collecting outfit pieces, taking a drink or tuning their instruments to perfection, Jeongguk quietly tugs at your arm and brings you to the side, a gentle and reassuring smile on his face, a frequently used expression when it concerns yourself.

“Rachel is our main backstage manager and she’s gonna take you and Jimin down to where I’ve put you for the show, yeah?” he explains, his gaze intent. Rachel is the woman from earlier, smiling patiently near the door. You spare her a glance and then look back at Jeongguk. “I’ve put you down by the stage so I can see you, okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re not in the crowd, you’re right by the stage in front of the barricade with the staff,” Jeongguk says. “Safe and sound, comfy and cosy. Can you come back after the show? There’s a party. I’ll- I’ll take you?” His tone is expectant, hopeful, and you’d be absolutely insane to let him down.

“I’ll come,” you promise. “Good luck!”

Again with the boyish charms; Jeongguk’s following smile is relaxed and lopsided, his head similarly quirked.

“Thanks, baby,” he calls, his smile widening when he notices the surprise flood your cheeks. “Cheer loud for me?”

“Always,” you tell him, gauging the scrunch of his eyes before Rachel directs both Jimin and yourself out of the backstage vicinity and towards the VVIP standing just next to the barrier. Whether or not Jimin overheard the entire ordeal is unclear; he doesn’t comment even if he did happen to overhear, remaining uncharacteristically silent until you reach your spot and he loosens up, gazing up at the stage in wonder.

When the venue feels packed to the brim and the reverberating bass of guitars literally vibrates the room, Jimin screams something about his excitement over the noise, catching your widened smile in his direction and laughing, throwing his arms around you.

Hollywood Palladium is genuinely packed to the brim, the fans by the barricade stamping excitedly as the VCR rolls to an end, the lights fade to a crimson red and silhouettes of August Blue appear on the stage. They are sensational, eliciting a chorus from the crowd that is deafening. Jimin laughs again, looking back and forth at the crowd and back at the stage, two girls from the barricade recognising him as the guy from outside and taking a photo, likely anticipating that he is of importance.

Like all concerts, the first five minutes are mind-blowing, epic and fantastical and slightly nerve-racking for all parties. At the sound of the opening chords of Meddle About, another wave of screams pierce the crowd and you wince, not expecting it but a smile still wide on your face. The cymbals crash and the lights flash brightly, revealing Jeongguk on the stage at the front, both his hands on the microphone as he speaks the first words of the night, lyrics dripped in smooth vocals that make your body swirl like on drugs. It’s mesmerising, sexy and sounding perfectly like the studio recording.

Hearing them live is a whole different experience- the way that August Blue perform is otherworldly, feeling like you’re in a subspace of slow-motion, every movement on stage emphasised. Not wanting to waste all of the show gawking at the lead vocalist, you glance at all of the other members, in awe of their talents and presence on the stage, even spotting the golden gleam of a saxophone in your peripheral vision. It is only then that you register the fact that Taehyung plays the saxophone live, and excitement and anticipation replaces birthed nerves from the opening song.

When Meddle About fades to a finale, Jeongguk smiles to himself widely as the melody to Obsessive plays almost immediately after, Namjoon’s riff introducing Jeongguk’s welcoming, “Hollywood Palladium, are you ready?” before he dives into the song. Here, Taehyung fiddles for his sax and beams down at both you and Jimin, returning to his spot to play as the song continues.

Like all songs from August Blue, you wish it would never end, your heels grinding the floor as you bop in Jimin’s arms, his chin buried in your neck as he rocks you from side to side affectionately. For the entirety of the song, and even after then, you refuse to take your eyes off Jeongguk; he moves with calculation and care, the world his bitch beneath his feet as he smirks, fucking the crowd, swirling in figure eight motions as he sings. Jeongguk is the eighth wonder of the world.

Obsessive ends, your torso rising and falling after their performance. It was a show of elan, your body buzzing with small vibrations like a bumblebee; Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, and he exchanges caring looks with the other members, giving them the opportunity to catch their breath as he once again addresses the crowd.

“Hollywood…” he starts, smiling wolfishly when the crowd erupts into piercing screams, the fans at the barrier pounding against the metal bars impatiently and Jimin eyes them cautiously, wrapping his arms tighter around you and considerately shuffling further away. Jeongguk glances down, then, making sure everything is okay, and his eyes fall on you. The first thing he sees is your smile, enamoured and bright and wide, like golden light at the end of a dark tunnel he can’t get out of. You notice now that he speaks how strong the accent is, months and years of Australian visits clearly paying off. It’s nice, new and different, completely unlike how he speaks in Korean. “We feelin’ good tonight?”

The crowd respond gleefully, and Jeongguk chuckles into the microphone.

“Thank you all for coming out here tonight,” Jeongguk begins, swaying slightly on his feet. The movement is endearing. “Being here, on this stage, is something we have dreamed about, and now that we’re here...Wow. We couldn’t be here without you guys. Everyone who’s here- friends, family, lovers-” the crowd scream because they’re used to being mentioned this way, but when Jeongguk’s gaze briefly flickers down to you, you immediately burn up, curling into Jimin as your best friend laughs knowingly, squeezing you tighter when Jeongguk finishes his speech to the crowd, “-you guys are fucking awesome. You like the album?”

Of course, Jeongguk is not alone on the stage. Reminded of this fact, you pay attention to each members introduction, occasionally finding your eyes wandering back to the lead vocalist who seems to always be staring back. In a sea of screaming fans and waving banners, Jeongguk’s eyes land on you each time, as if reminding himself that you are here, you are here for him.

When the band finish their introductions and Jeongguk says his piece, and the opening hum from the guitars around him announce Dancer in the Dark, Jeongguk glances at you one final time and sees the way your body reacts to the song familiar to your ears, a curve extending the corner of his mouth. Jeongguk brings his attention back to the crowd where it will stay for the rest of the concert, his mind wandering between each lyric and break. Maybe- just maybe, things would work out for him in the end.

DEVIL IN THE DARK. (HOLLYWOOD)

There is a constant hum in your ears, your fingertips vibrating as you force yourself out of the car.

Judging by the sky draped in an ebony black, it’s either extremely late or extremely early, the loud music from the large estate already audible and you haven’t even entered the party yet. Even though Jeongguk had expected to take you in his personal vehicle to the party that would celebrate their first American show of the year, things hadn’t exactly gone to plan; his eyes met yours as soon as you hurried backstage to find him, pleading and frantic and your name on the tip of his tongue, unspoken when Rachel ushers the band out of the venue after an already overstayed welcome. Still, the frequent vibration of your phone under your thigh when you settled travelling with Yoongi and Jimin instead kept your thoughts preoccupied, Jeongguk’s contact practically permanent on your lock screen.

[23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: shit !!!!! [23:40PM] Jeongguk 🎼: i wanted to wait but they kept pushing me outside [23:41PM] Jeongguk 🎼: did u get out safe? [23:43PM] You: yep don’t worry !!! [23:43PM] You: we’ll be on our way soon [23:44PM] You: im hungry so we’re getting food first oops [23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼: ok baby see u soon [23:45PM] Jeongguk 🎼 is typing…

The triple dots are constant.

Bodyguard Joe is the driver who drops you off, muttering under his breath when all three of you pile out the back and he’s free to leave. Before Yoongi can even shut the door properly he is speeding away, desperate to get out of there. Yoongi can’t say he blames him- he’s only staying for a little bit, at least until Jeongguk starts being Jeongguk. He deliberately doesn’t mention it to you. He wants you to see it for yourself.

Inside, it’s hard to see through the smoke. There had only been about fourty minutes difference between Jeongguk arriving there and the three of you, and evidently, they waste no time bringing the party into motion. Already, guests either by invite or chance are drunk, intoxicated with dark beer bottles and shot glasses, a wreckage of splintery glass by the door surrounded by a pair of shoes, like a warning. The lights are dimmed, each room dark save a lamp with a dying bulb or LED lights, flashing rainbow colours to the beats of songs, the smell of alcohol and weed lifting in the air. It’s rancid, strong and pungent but typical of parties you’d expect celebrities within the realm of Jeongguk to do, people who held the world at arms length.

Along the wall, the coat pegs are covered in a bundle of mismatched coats and jackets, a single Converse hanging by its laces as some sort of practical joke. In light of this, you decide to just keep your coat thrown over your shoulders, the black suede comfortable and moreover protective as faces you’ve never even seen before regard you with high interest as you pass. Jimin scowls and drags you closer to him, Yoongi leading the way with a gaze that could kill, parting the sea of dancers like Moses. The vibe, however, remains undisturbed, the bodies continuing to dance and drink as they were before Min Yoongi stepped through the mix, with two virtual nobodies behind him. He knows where he’s going- he’s done this before.

This mansion is a maze, with corridors leading everywhere, filled with bodies you didn’t know. You deduce that the main parlour where you’re headed to is the hub of the party, judging by the way the small groups of people outside become multiplied, the sound of laughter and music louder when you enter through a doorway. The room is soaked in an indigo neon light, the long haul of strip lights attached to the moulding by the ceiling by silver pins; almost all of August Blue accommodate one of the recliner sofas, one particular male suspiciously absent.

“Yoongi!” Faintly over the sound of the music, Namjoon’s voice carries its way to your trio, Yoongi’s attention moving to the band and he moves in that direction, with both Jimin and yourself close on his heels. Namjoon already looks affected by the alcohol stirring in a whiskey glass, the colour clear and making no difference when it sloshes over the side onto the bare skin of his forearms. Exchanging a tight lipped smile with Hoseok, who seats a beautiful girl on his lap who sips her drink quietly, you glance around the room for Jeongguk, your heart sinking when you don’t spot him anywhere.

“Great show,” Yoongi says, now that the music has been turned down somewhat, no thanks to Taehyung who has just stepped out of the bathroom and winced at the volume, now sitting back in his original spot beside Seokjin and his widened legs. As an afterthought, he adds, “as always. This is Jimin, by the way- and you know Y/N.”

Seokjin looks up from his glass: “Hi honey. Good night?”

“Yes, it was amazing,” you reply, your eyes wandering again. A few strangers are seated on the couch alongside the members, including three girls you aren’t familiar with. Two look out of this world, mentally vacant and the third watches you carefully, her lips pouted sourly. “Hello,” you call to her, uncomfortable.

“This is one of Rosanne’s friends, Cassandra,” Seokjin introduces, although he doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic.

“Cassie,” she throws in.

“Oh, like the song,” you judge, looking back at Seokjin and catching the roll of his eyes before he can hide it away. Concealing a smile you look back at Cassandra.

“Yeah. Isn’t that funny?” she asks, giggling sweetly. “I like to tease Guk about it. It gets him shy. Did you see him on the way in, by the way? I’ve been looking for him.”

Oh. So she’s one of them- it’s evident in the way August Blue glance over at her with annoyance, glancing back at you with a blank stare. You know better. “No, actually. I just got here.”

“Well,” Cassandra-Cassie continues, smiling tightly, the look so ingenuine that it looks as though it hurts her to fake politeness, “if you see him, let him know that I’m looking for him.”

“Does he even know who you are?” Jimin asks before he can stop himself. Cassandra narrows her eyes.

“We met in passing.”

A snort exits Jimin’s nose. “If he remembers you, I’ll genuinely be surprised.”

Whatever is or isn’t said by the rest of the couch is unheard by you; once Jimin has finished his slander of Cassandra-Cassie whilst perched on Yoongi’s knees, you decide you’ve heard enough and pick yourself back up off the couch despite having only just sat down.

Whoever remains at the couch pays you no mind, aside from Yoongi who nods gently as you gesture to the connecting hallway, an arch in the cream smooth wall that no doubt leads to either the outside, the kitchen or a bathroom, perhaps all three at once. His eyes do not leave you until you’ve wormed your way out of the room, quietly and meekly weaving through bodies on the walls and declining at least three drinks offered in your direction. After peering into several rooms, including the kitchen that was far too crowded and scorching to even enter, and glanced out through the french doors to the scattered party outside, looking on the patio glowing in blues and pinks, the pool splashing with laughter.

Even the end bathroom that is larger than the kitchen is practically empty save the guy passed out in the bathtub with a glass of sparkling champagne in a slender glass on the sink, and you suddenly feel very dejected, closing the door behind you as you exit back to the long hallway. Maybe everything was too good to be true- maybe girls like Cassandra were girls Jeongguk had invited, like he had you, suddenly ghosting when they all appeared in the same room. It feels rude to assume that, but with no text messages or indication as to where he might be and with whom, disappointment begins to simmer in your stomach.

It nearly settles, confusing dejection with nausea and the thought of Jeongguk having played you is a thought you ruminate, until you’re halfway down the hall and a door to a connecting room that has now opened welcomes a body cloaked in the bedroom darkness, an arm leaning out to grasp your sleeve and pull you inside.

A strange sense of deja-vu hangs over this situation, familiarity striking with the hand that unwraps from around your arm and meets the second around your waist. Before you have even finished twirling to face the body in ownership of said arms, the sound of quiet chuckling makes you relax instantly, a smile growing when you fall with a soft thud against the torso of Jeongguk, his mouth in level with your eyes.

“Hi, stranger,” you laugh softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Jeongguk hums, and you catch a whiff of alcohol practically pouring off him. “Been hidin’. You found me, you win.” Jeongguk does a poor job of attempting to be sober, his speech slurred and his smile cheesy and smirkish. “I was tryna ride with you, but Joon shut the car door and we just drove off, you know?” You honestly don’t, but you nod anyway. “Tried to call you but dunno where my phone’s gone. Think Joon’s got it.”

“That explains why you weren’t replying,” you say, mostly to yourself. Jeongguk inhales the air through his nose quickly, one sniff, and relaxes his arms around your middle; his forearms are resting on your hip bones with his fingers gently stroking and drumming against your lower back, and it is here, with him so close, that you notice the glow of sweat on his hairline, the fringes slightly matted down and smudged black under his eye, glitter shines of his eyebrow piercing. “Got worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?” he repeats, that same smile on his face. Jeongguk sounds so amazed by this fact, so bewildered that you’d care.

Anticipation whirls in the pit of your stomach as his voice drops in volume and hardness, and the school-girl crush swims back to bite when Jeongguk’s forehead bends to press against your own, the taste of alcohol on your tongue before he’s even leaning in to kiss you. Jeongguk’s hands immediately fly to cradle your face, accidentally bringing a fistful of hair to your cheek as he holds you, practically picking your face up to warm to his mouth. It is just one kiss, long and deep and soft, leaving behind the taste of a bitter liquor.

Jeongguk’s eyes open through slits when he pulls away, analysing how you still haven’t come back to reality from it, and so he moves in again, in a body roll motion stealing a second kiss, his lips pressed up against you in full. He doesn’t know if it’s the booze in his veins or the electrifying feeling of your hands over him that has him buzzing all over- it could be both, for all he knew.

Beginning to doubt his own self control when you mumble and sigh into his mouth, Jeongguk gently brings himself away, out of the kiss and sending your eyes open in a daze. Cracking his own eyes open, Jeongguk restrains himself from going right back in- the orange glow from the outdoor lights shine on the left side of your face and his heart leaps, drumming in his ears. He frowns loudly, feeling your thumbs rub against his wrists. “Sorry.”

You pause, “Why?”

“For making you worry,” Jeongguk explains, his voice murmured through pouted lips. “I made the baby worry.”

“The baby?” you repeat, chuckling. He grins. “We’re almost the same age, y’know.”

“The baby,” Jeongguk coos, his giggles indicative of his level of soberness, which seems to be unlikely. “Little nineteen year old baby-”

“Twenty,” you add, and Jeongguk stops with a quiet “huh” that sounds like a baby, ironic. Jeongguk remembers you telling him your age, and that you’d be twenty soon. Had he missed your birthday? As if hearing his internal struggle, you smile softly: “Today is my birthday, actually.”

Truly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say. His mouth hangs agape, like the information was sacred. “What…? You didn’t say anything- I could have got you something, done something-”

“This whole day has been a gift,” you stress, cutting him short and calming him down. “Truly. My Mom and Asshole are in the Maldives because that’s more important than me, and so I went out for breakfast with Jimin, skipped my yoga session because treat-yourself-vibes only on my birthday, and then I had the best time at your show and now we’re here. So, honestly-” as you talk, you finger his shirt, wrapping the material around your nail, “-everything has been amazing. This is my gift- you are my gift.”

Jeongguk pouts. “You’re way more important than the Maldives...you wanna go to the Maldives? Shall we go?” Based off the state of things, Jeongguk is a playful, chatty and overall excited drunk, his eyes blown wide with what you hope it just alcohol buzz. “I’ll take you.”

You laugh, gently stroking his jaw and very briefly, before he can get too addicted, kiss him. Before Jeongguk can pucker his lips back for you, you’re back on the ground with your feet flat, shyly smiling at the way he still tries anyway- because you can’t blame a man for trying.

“You like the party?” Jeongguk asks, unconcerned. His hands are back on your back, now, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“Mm, it’s fun,” you agree. “Will you come out and join all of us? We’re all in the lounge-” you smirk up at him and he raises his brows, “Cassandra is there.”

“Who the fuck’s Cassandra?” questions his voice, and you laugh loudly, surprisingly gleeful.

“Someone else who was looking for you like me,” you tell him, frowning. He hums, interested in this fact and your expression. “Think she likes you.”

Outside the door, someone rattles at the handle, the noise falling short as though they’ve been stopped from entering. Jeongguk seizes the last word with a triumphant smile.

“Don’t worry,” he assures, and your gaze drops to his lips as his teeth drag on the bottom, pulling teasingly. “I’ve got my eye on someone special.”

There had been reasoning behind Yoongi’s decision to not mention Jeongguk’s habits.

For one, it’s none of his business to talk about what Jeongguk does and doesn’t do when under the influence. Secondly, he feels as though he’s not supposed to say, like it’s a secret he’s sworn to keep. Truthfully, Yoongi doesn’t want to give the wrong idea- he doesn’t want the truth to be misunderstood or misinterpreted, and so he stays quiet. Like all other members of August Blue when Jeongguk touches alcohol, he’s quiet. At this stage, there’s nothing he can do but wait for Jeongguk to stop, patient and helpful.

It has to be early hours, now, and if Yoongi’s phone wasn’t dead, he’d check. By this point, the party is on its last legs, the volume of people decreasing dramatically as songs become more slow and sultry, all the lights blood red. It’s about time he and Jimin leave, actually; like always, Seokjin and Taehyung have disappeared into one of their bedrooms on the second floor, and Namjoon is asleep on the couch with his mouth ajar, Hoseok and Roseanne planning to remain present in the hub until the party goes to sleep, because someone needs to clean up, and it sure as hell won’t be anybody else.

Yoongi bids his farewells individually, with Jimin needily clinging to the sleeve of his shirt with the vodka oozing out of his body, his head on a whole other planet. By the time Yoongi makes it to the other side of the room where you are with Jeongguk, he’s worried Jimin might actually fall asleep before they get to the car.

Something interesting has happened. Yoongi slowly moves towards the leftover crowd around Jeongguk and sees your face immediately, worry crossed with affection etched into the look on your face as Jeongguk tightly holds you on his lap, his legs twitching and smile on display. It’s around about this time Yoongi begins to overthink it, letting his gaze drop to your hands holding one of his while his other reaches out to the coffee table, littered with bottles and shot glasses, and most importantly, the puddles of white. He gulps, looking back at you. Surprisingly, you don’t look put off, or disgusted- more so you look sad, as if filled with intense guilt as Jeongguk hugs you, his heart in one place and head in another.

When one of the girls next to Jeongguk pats his arm and Jeongguk looks over, you spare the chance to look back in the direction of Jimin, overwhelmed with relief when you see him losing balance over the shoulder of your cousin. Jeongguk struggles for a second to let you free but he does, and you move towards Yoongi, already expecting his departure.

“You should leave too,” Yoongi says seriously. “Before he gets worse.”

He- you look over your shoulder at Jeongguk. Now, he’s on his knees, his chin on the coffee table as he inches towards a fresh line on the surface. Someone’s credit card sits decorated in the powder and Jeongguk, whilst pressing his finger to one nose, snorts the line without question and with a smile. You look away, facing Yoongi with a dark expression.

“You knew?”

“We all knew,” Yoongi sighs. “This...is moderate.”

Processing what he’s saying, you shake your head stubbornly. “If I leave, then it will get worse. I don’t want to leave him on his own. I wanna be here for him, before it gets worse than what it already is.”

“It will get worse, always does.”

“I don’t care, I’m not leaving him here,” you reason. “Before you tell me I’m not special and I can’t change him, I’m not here to change him. I’m here to support him. I’m gonna stay, make sure he’s okay.”

Yoongi really wants to intervene, warn you against it. People before you have tried, he wants to say. But he doesn’t; he smiles weakly, thinking about how you’re too good for the world and people around you and he brings you in for a hug, kissing the crown of your head.

“Alright. Happy birthday, by the way. Twenty...Hag,” Yoongi mutters before he pulls away. Jimin mirrors the movement, drunkenly giggling in your ear as he pulls away and thuds against Yoongi’s side. Yoongi doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t complain; secretly he likes the clinginess.

“Thanks, Yoongs,” you laugh, standing still until he steers himself and Jimin away from the scene and you’re left with no other option but to retreat back towards Jeongguk, who must be on his third line. The distinct and slightly jarring sound of snorting makes you hurry quicker towards him, until you can reach out and pet his hair, making him look up before he’s even finished the line.

The boyish grin that Jeongguk gives you when he looks up and sees your face is beyond beautiful, and he’s so distracted from the lines that he doesn’t notice or care when the girl next to him, displeased with his lack of attention, finishes it off for him. Doing everything in your power to not cry about how Jeongguk looks, fucked and wrecked with white powder under his nose, you shoot him a smile and smooth your hands down the side of his face.

“‘m pretty,” he mutters. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Laughter tugs at your throat, little puffs of air through your nose as you bend your head to meet his wandering gaze, wiping the powder from his nose before it kills you to keep looking at it. He sniffs, finding that it tickles, and plops his chin in your lap, hands on your thighs.

“Sleepy?” you ask, petting his curly hair.

“Mm.”

“Mm yes, or…?”

“Mm...comfy,” mutters Jeongguk. Through his hair, he looks up at you. “Can we make-out?”

You snort out a laugh, massaging his scalp. “Oh my God, you are so drunk. Come on, big guy.”

“Wanna stay with you,” Jeongguk says. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” you tell him. “I promise. Look, everyone’s getting ready to leave now, too, I think the party’s pretty much over.”

Jeongguk eyes the room with a half-lidded gaze, furrowing his brows like he doesn’t quite know where he is. “Huh. Everyone left.”

“Mhm.” He starts to reach for the cocaine on the table again and your heart beats with panic. “Hey, I think that’s enough now.”

“Lemme finish,” Jeongguk requests.

“You’ve had enough,” you stress, taking hold of his hand. “Let’s leave it there for tonight, okay, baby?”

Jeongguk’s head snaps towards you. “Baby?”

You nod, affirming. “Yes. Look, oh, I’m so tired-” you pretend to yawn, keeping one eye open to observe his expressions as he smiles childishly.

“You’re faking,” he accuses.

“Nope. I’m so tired, let’s go sleep,” you continue.

Jeongguk continues to smile, occasionally laughing when the sound can get out of his throat. You’re half expecting it to be a waste of time, for him to insist on taking more lines and drinking more booze, but he does neither of these things. Jeongguk nods once and runs his hands across your thighs, taking them in his palms and roughly squeezing, getting to his feet when you tug him up.

Across the box shaped recliner pattern, Cassandra-fucking-Cassie glares up from her seat, alongside several others who stare at you as if you’ve grown another head. Truth be told, and unbeknownst to yourself, Jeongguk has never listened to anybody like he does for you. You have no idea how insane it is to see Jeon Jeongguk following the orders of a girl nobody knows, and honestly, you don’t care. Feeling Jeongguk’s hand slide into yours and the other occasionally reaching to fondle the back of your leg as he searches for you in dark is enough, it’s the only thing you care about.

You don’t really know where you’re going; behind you, Jeongguk is mumbling the way to his bedroom, which appears to be up the grand staircase and on the top floor, where he can pretend he’s above the world. Even with his directions, the path seems unpredictable, his torso occasionally bumping into you when you pause at corners. Eventually, Jeongguk notices where he is and conceals a yawn, his face contorted into sleepiness as he gently pulls you in the direction of his room, unsurprisingly at the end of the corridor, a master. Before he can open the door, Jeongguk yawns loudly, slumping against the doorframe and laughing slowly when you curve around him, reaching for the handle and forcing your way into the room.

Inside, it’s cold, the window propped open and a midnight colour hanging on the walls, silence. Jeongguk doesn’t turn on a light, and he doesn’t want you to either. He still holds onto your hand, or rather your fingers, and leads the way inside. His bedroom is like a hotel suite, a small lobby area of sorts when you walk in with three doors North, East and West, all leading to separate rooms including the main bedroom, bathroom and closet, all his for his own liking. He, of course, heads to the East, in the direction of his bed. It’s equally as cold in there but Jeongguk doesn’t care.

Under his breath, Jeongguk hums something unintelligent, waiting until he’s right by the side of his bed to twirl around. His arms find themselves back around you, lifting you off the ground which elicits a squeal of surprise and falls with a soft pat on top of the bed. Your pelvis is on his abdomen, your face on the bed next to his neck and he holds you tighter, engulfing your smell and warmth. Amongst the drugs and the childlike excitement, Jeongguk is an affectionate drunk around those who matter to him. His exhale of breath akin to a sigh tickles a breeze on your ear, and you struggle to pick your head up and look at his face; he meets you with a titter and puckers his lips, kissing you before you can decline. He grins triumphantly.

“Got it.”

“Mm, you did.”

He laughs again, the kind of laugh that sounds gravelly. He’s so drunk. “Got you.”

Humming, you entertain that thought, reaching your head to peck his jawline. Jeongguk sighs contently, about to move his hands from your waist to your thighs when you shuffle up and away, his brows furrowing with perplexion. “You’ve got me.”

Jeongguk’s head tilts. “Where are you going? Don’t leave.”

“I’m going to use the bathroom, and then I’ll be right back,” you promise him. Jeongguk pouts, emotionally clingy which is unusual, but flops back down onto the bed without vocal protect.

In the time it takes for you to rush to the bathroom, pee out of nervousness and nervously pet your hair and make it look absolutely no different, Jeongguk is knocked out asleep when you re-enter the room. His breaths are quiet, and heavy, his legs hanging off the side with his heels on the floor. The urge to sigh is unreal, but you know he must be tired, more tired than you are. Standing just before him on the bed, you’re uncertain of what to do first, but then you move to pull his feet out of his shoes, quietly tossing them to the side and then hauling his legs up onto the mattress. At some point during the night, he might shuffle- he does, slightly, when his body is on one level, and he sleepily worms his way to the side of the bed closest to the window, the right side, his side.

Half of your heart wants to leave. Maybe the way Jeongguk acted tonight was purely because of things he drank, things he lets into his body. But, subconsciously, you know better; the other half of you begs for you to stay. If Jeongguk changed his mind, it would be one walk out of the door and out of his life, easy and simple.

Instead of thinking about that, you gently toss your jacket to the floor and kick off your own shoes, laying flat next to Jeongguk as he falls deeper into sleep. Even if he wakes up with cold feet tomorrow morning, at least he won’t be alone.

The next morning, it is raining. It doesn’t often rain, and so you can’t help but hear the heavy sound of rain outside the window, no thanks to yourself for forgetting to close it before climbing next to Jeongguk. Speaking of the man, he remains asleep, his head twisted on the pillow facing you with his body flat on his back, one leg up and the other spread out. He looks so peaceful, hopefully at peace with his dreams.

Without waking him up, you roll over off the bed and sink your feet to the floor, silently retreating to the bathroom with your phone in your hand. Surprised by the time, it reads eight fifty am, and you scroll down your notifications which seem to have multiplied unusually. Few are from Instagram but majority are texts, from Yoongi and Jimin, one from your Mom that reads a simple “happy bday” and nothing more.

[03:32AM]: Yoongi 👹: hope ur safe and ok [03:41AM] Yoongi 👹: did u go home?

He sent those at three.

[08:50AM] You: shit sorry [08:50AM] You: was sleeping [08:51AM] You: im still with jeongguk, he passed out and i stayed so he wouldn’t wake up on his own

There is a short silence.

[08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: ok, be safe [08:53AM] Yoongi 👹: jimin says good morning lol

Sitting on top of the closed toilet, you hurriedly reply to the flurry of messages and by the time you’ve finished, ten minutes have passed and it is now nine. Checking over yourself in the mirror and deciding that you could ultimately look a lot worse, you move back into the bedroom, overhearing loudness from the remaining people in the house who had an early start to the day.

Jeongguk stirs slightly, showing signs of being awake. Under his breath he groans, reluctant to confirm his consciousness by keeping his eyes closed, and you slowly reach to put your phone back on the bedside table and clamber on all fours onto the bed. With the weight dipped, Jeongguk huffs, peering open one eye and watching you crawl up to him, knees near his body and hands brushing the long hair out of his eyes.

“Morning, sleepy-head,” you coo, voice quiet because nine is still early.

Jeongguk groans, saying nothing. He shifts, ironing out the cramps in his limbs and sitting up, reaching a hand out for you, grabbing air like a child. Your gaze drops to the way his fingers roll expectantly and you slip your hand into his, taken aback when he tugs you over onto him, your legs over his hips as his arms steady around your waist.

Suddenly he’s very awake, moving your hair back and then kissing you, like he’s been starved of it. It begins gentle, timid, with his hands barely touching you as if he’s expecting you to move away and reject it. You don’t, however; when he pulls back you immediately move back in, twisting your arms around his neck, prompting him to follow by tightening his arms around your body, bringing you flush up against him, hips touching, sex throbbing. Jeongguk groans into your mouth, his hands guiding your body as you make shy movements, barely rolling up against him creating friction he wasn’t aware he needed so badly.

Jeongguk isn’t sure if what he’s doing is okay, and you don’t care. All that seems to matter is having you near him, as close as you can possibly be. Under your shirt, Jeongguk slides his hand up your back until it’s at the back of your neck, his left tight on your hip bone as the guider. He welcomes, no, encourages, your hips rocking against his slowly, teasingly, perfect momentum for the morning with the rain. It is both unnerving and exciting in how Jeongguk remains silent, save his occasional groans into your mouth. 

Once Jeongguk has grown bored of kissing your mouth, satisfied with all he’s done, his mouth departs and moves to your jaw, peppering a line of wet kisses from the underside to your neck. His hands spring away and move to hastily unbutton your shirt, unpopping one at a time as you whimper, feeling the hardness buried in Jeongguk’s jeans begging to be free.

Jeongguk breathes heavily, desperately pulling the buttons undone and undressing your shirt from your body. At first, he barely notices the fact that your bra is missing until the shirt is down to your elbows, sexily like a shawl, and his eyes land on your hardened nipples. Jeongguk half laughs, touching his thumbs on the underside of your breasts.

“Just like that,” he mutters, and you pout through a whimper that brings his eyes up to your own.

“Shut up, there was no way I was sleeping with it on,” you reply, and he hums, it makes sense. Jeongguk doesn’t blame you- why would he? He’s a guy, he likes tits; he likes your tits, smallish and round, big enough for him to hold and fit in his mouth, which he does.

Raising his eyebrows, Jeongguk smirks and brings his mouth to your right tit, his mouth around your nipple and you moan sweetly, your hand raking through his messy bed-curls. Like taking a toothless bite out of a whip of ice cream, Jeongguk’s lips pull around it, his eyes flickering up to observe your expressions- one glance and he immediately feels overwhelmed, a pressure on his crotch, discomfort, the need to be free. His hips stutter and he ruts up against you, two clothed crotches rubbing together, stolen gasps in the morning ambience. Finished with his hands on your tits, Jeongguk fully removes your shirt, balling it up and throwing it across the room, where it lands pathetically on one of the knobs of his drawers.

In one movement, Jeongguk secures his arms around you and hikes himself up onto his feet, squatting and turning so you should fall on your back. Following, he pushes you down into the mattress, your head half on the pillow and this time, his legs on your hips, not an overpowering weight but enough to keep you pinned down. You writhe, your back arching up off the mattress as Jeongguk’s mouth trails down from your face, where he leaves a starting kiss on your lips, down your neck and between your breasts, encouraging the roll of your hips with his hands. Muttered incoherence is all he can hear as he shimmies down, his tongue on your skin, teasingly licking a stripe up across your crotch covered by uncomfortable jeans.

Jimin, that fucker, he’d been right. Skinny jeans truly were the least practical outfit.

Jeongguk straddles himself up, planting his body over you like one would during sex. Humming against your lips, Jeongguk’s teeth pull at your bottom lip, his left hand gripping your leg and positioning it around his waist, your legs parted and his crotch directly hitting yours with every grind. Jeongguk gives nothing away- he stares, unwaveringly and deadpan directly into your eyes, grunting at the faces you pull, the whimpers leaving your lips, your rutting underneath him.

He buckles unexpectedly, pounding you deep into the mattress with a high pitched moan, captured by his mouth as he squeezes your flesh around his hand, holding you to him like letting you go would result in him losing you entirely. Jeongguk’s torn between wanting to cry and scream; in his short, sad, twenty one years of living, he’s not sure he’s ever felt as desperate for another person before. Never craved somebody the way he craves you, never needed somebody the way he needs you. Jeongguk stares into your eyes, opia. For fucks sake- he likes you so much, needs you so much-

“Jeongguk, you up?”

Freeze frame. Namjoon steps into the room, his eyes widening with surprise when he comes through the East and spots your shoes and bra by the door, shirt hanging off the cupboard, and Jeongguk on top of you with his lips on your neck, hands on your waist, leg around his middle and crotch up against his. Over Jeongguk’s bicep, you stare at him, your eyes blown open, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to stop, or even care. Even when you grip on his bicep to let him know you’re not alone, Jeongguk looks up from your neck and spots Namjoon. A soft exhale leaves his lips and he grunts, unbothered.

“Yeah,” he replies bluntly, biting down on your neck and revelling in the tug he receives in his hair when he does so. Still, Namjoon stands by the door in awe, unsure of what to do or say. Jeongguk pulls away, his face still stuffed in your neck, “you need something, Namjoon?”

“I,” Namjoon says, gathering his thoughts. He clears his throat. “Sejin called...He said he’s going to be round at about eleven ish, so I was, um, coming to see if you wanted breakfast, or…” As he speaks, Jeongguk is selfish, still grinding against you like Namjoon’s not even there. He’s listening though, his ear free to hear as he sucks his mouth on your skin, practising sex against your jeans.

Naturally, Namjoon’s gaze wanders to your breasts when Jeongguk picks himself up slightly, grabbing one with his palm and kissing patterns across your sternum. He gulps, uncomfortable.

“Be down in a minute,” Jeongguk says, shrugs, not really a promise. Namjoon nods, flushing as you moan unexpectedly, your traitor pussy having a mind of its own, controlling the way you think. Namjoon about makes out an arch on the grey comforter and catches your gaze, half-lidded, and he turns away, he’s seen enough.

“Take your time,” Namjoon squeaks out, unsure of whether the flush is for his head or his dick but he’s not sticking around to find out, and hurries out the door and back into the house. Jeongguk’s facade doesn’t fall until he knows for certain that Namjoon has left, which means he waits until the sound of laughter resonates downstairs, meaning Namjoon’s said his piece to the rest of the band likely gathered somewhere, waiting for him.

Planting one final kiss to your breast, Jeongguk groans and picks himself up onto his hands, his torso still over the lower half of your body and his gaze on your chest. It doesn’t move for a moment, staring in silence until he suddenly starts laughing to himself. The tangled mess of hair bounces with his shoulders and his head drops for a few moments, and then he peers up at you with a smile and you can’t contain your own bubbling laughter, scandalised.

“I know I’m a day late,” he breathes, “but.” Jeongguk smiles softly, “Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

“Mmm. Thank you,” you preen. “Best birthday ever.”

This causes Jeongguk to guffaw, laughing under his breath. “Joon enjoyed it too.”

“You’re such a prick, you could have stopped,” you laugh to him, slamming his shoulders gently. Jeongguk grins, shuffling until his ass is on your stomach, straddling with his hands intertwined with yours.

“Yeah,” he agrees, because he could have. “Didn’t feel like it though. Plus, he said you were pretty once. ‘Mnot taking any chances with you.”

You gasp, astounded. “And what if I had thought he was pretty, too?”

“Then I’d cry,” Jeongguk replies simply, considering it a successful quip when you laugh sweetly, your cheek on your shoulder looking up at him like he was God’s angel. He blinks, like he’s processing the information, “thank you for staying. Look, if last night I was fucked up, it’s okay if you’re not cool with that. It can be a lot and I-”

“Jeongguk, I’ll always stay. If you need me, I’ll stay,” you tell him seriously. “I’m here for you, even when it’s difficult. I-” you pause, “I care about you.” It won’t be the last time Jeongguk feels like he has nothing to say to you, and honestly, it’s not the first time either.

Jeongguk looks down at you, his face devoid of a smile now that your words have settled in. When he realises what you’re saying, what that means for him.

“I’m sorry. I’m...a fucking shit show,” Jeongguk says quietly, and he barely moves when you instantly sit up, rising with your palms cupping his face, holding him gently and closely.

“Please don’t say sorry. I’m here, if you need me,” you say to him. “If you want me.”

“I do,” replies Jeongguk. He licks his lips, “of course I do.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest, and it would be easy to kick back, let him keep kissing, stay in the warmth of his bed covers. So suddenly, life feels like it can get better. So suddenly, it feels like everything is going to be okay.

(LOS ANGELES)

Things begin to change quite suddenly.

In the moment, you hardly realise how fast paced life is moving for you, too caught up in the moment, in the thrill of what has become of your life after the show at the Hollywood Palladium. For some reason, you didn’t expect to be an addition to Jeongguk’s life after the party, especially considering August Blue still had several other shows and cities to perform in, meaning the likelihood of seeing him decreased.

He had surprised you, though, by making a considerable effort to frequent DBOY whenever he could before he left for Jersey, alongside the rather spontaneous decision to take you for dinner after your shift, ending with a bang and a kiss and your mother peeking from behind a curtain inside the house when Jeongguk pulled up to drop you home instead of your own flat afterwards. 

As far as you knew, nothing with Jeongguk had especially changed; judging off the lingering smell of nicotine and alcohol when he turned up to get you, and pictures of dark lights and white tables on his private accounts, which only made it harder to say goodbye to him.

There had been a change in pace between Jeongguk and yourself, an establishment of feelings discussed over that afternoon dinner looking out at the ocean. It had been unexpected and impulsive, you still dressed in your lackluster University outfit and Jeongguk in attire that he put on when he woke up in the morning, but everything seemed to feel right.

It hadn’t been much, nothing but him setting the record straight that he wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he wanted to do it- if you would have it, he’d like to be in your life. There was the bump in the road that was his status, his tours and his unspoken struggle with white lines and drunken nights that could be troublesome. Could turn you off, could make you not want him. You laughed at that like it was the funniest and simultaneously the stupidest thing he’d ever said, and maybe it was.

Across the room, Jimin kicks his feet up onto the coffee table despite countless efforts to get him to stop. Now that the late birthday weekend spent with your family had come to a happy end, you were once again welcomed in your shared flat with Jimin; it’s a measly apartment close to campus with an expensive empty third room that you both use as art storage. Next to him on the couch is the greasy pizza box, his fingers pulling a slice off the cardboard. You stand behind the couch, looking at the back of his head, and then look back at your phone. As always, there’s nothing, no notifications besides an Icloud storage backup failure. You sigh, having expected it.

Jimin looks up when the couch dips in weight as you sit next to him, moving the pizza box to his lap rather than your spot. He has the nerve to appear offended, still shoving a slice in his mouth.

“I’ve picked the movie,” he starts.

“Swear on God, if you’ve picked Orphan again, I’m going to beat your ass.”

“It’s the best horror movie to date, come on!” Jimin argues, making zero effort to change the movie once it’s already started. People who didn’t know Jimin would take a look at him and anticipate him to be an angel, questioning why you would ever be annoyed by such a cute face. This- this is why. 

Regardless, all you give Jimin is an eye-roll and decide to quietly accept the fact that your movie night has, once again, become an ode to Orphan. It’s not a problem- if a movie could define and represent a friendship, Orphan could summarize your relationship with Jimin.

The movie plays as far as Esther pushing her sister into the road when disturbance arises. Jimin is the first to stir, hearing the front door to your apartment crack open and a sheepish Yoongi steps inside, a bag of takeout in his left hand and keys in the right. He is, of course, late as always, and you expect he won’t hear the end of it by the time he’s wedged himself into the room; rightly so, Jimin interrogates him on being late as the front door closes, and right as the sound of arguing fills the room a blaring ring from your phone picks up.

It’s sad to admit that you pick up your phone in lightning speed, peering in the light as Jeongguk’s contact fills the screen. The way seeing his name light up on the screen feels like an urgent release, like finding treasure after searching for so long- you haul yourself up off the couch and head back towards the kitchen as the couple shuffle in. Glancing at them as they collapse in laughter to the couch, you smile and answer the call from Jeongguk that never stops ringing.

“Jeongguk,” you say, once you’ve picked up and heard nothing but murmured party ambience over the line. Something crackles, like the movement of clothes, and Jeongguk hums like he’s in a trance. “Can you hear me?”

“Hi baby,” his voice calls. He laughs, lucid, “Y/N, baby. Hi baby.”

“Hi,” you coo in reply. “Where are you, I can barely hear you…?”

“Party!” laughs Jeongguk. “Wrap up party. ‘so funny, you should come.”

A smile ignites. “I can’t, I’m not in that state. Are you having fun? What are you doing?”

For a moment, Jeongguk doesn’t reply. From the sounds of it, he seems otherwise occupied, for in the background the quiet sound of party laughter and glass clinking reminds you of where he is, what he’s doing, what he’ll end up doing. You swallow thickly.

“It’s okay,” Jeongguk says after some time. “Kinda fun.” He waits one second and then says, “can’t hear you. I’m gonna go outside, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jeongguk moves outside, the party tucked behind as he leans against the brickwork of the rented bar used for the party. There’s a payphone on the wall, dripped in neon lights and he stands next to it, his body chilled by the night, leather on his skin.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, sniffing. That’s the indicator. Something inside of you sinks thinking about what he’s done, how sad it is that he does it to himself and nobody bats an eye.

You throw a glance back across the room; Jimin is settled in Yoongi’s lap, bringing soft laughter out of your cousin as the still frame of Orphan burns the television screen. “It’s movie night, so Jimin and Yoongi came over.”

“Mm yeah?” Jeongguk says. “Fun, sounds so fun, Yoongi said you lived with Jimin.”

“I do,” you reply gently. “When do you come home?”

“Saturday, maybe,” Jeongguk estimates. “Then I’m gonna come see you. Wanna take you out again, can we go out somewhere, I wanna go out.”

You laugh, tucking yourself into the kitchen when Yoongi and Jimin start laughing too loudly. “Course. Just let me know when, I’ll make room for you.”

For a while, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything interesting. In fact, it’s mostly a string of incoherent and confusing sentences, his pout audible as he speaks and at least he’s not making bad decisions, half the reason you haven’t told him to go back to the party. Maybe you’re in it too deep, maybe you have no right being worried about him like that. If his band members didn’t seem to be too worried, and they’ve clearly known him longer, then why should you be so concerned?

“Called you for a reason, you know,” Jeongguk says, after a short breath of silence.

You raise your eyebrows and lean against the doorframe, pulling at your bottom lip with your teeth after asking him why.

Jeongguk sniffs and then drops a deep exhale of breath. “Missed you.” Your heart thuds painfully. “Miss you, miss your voice. You should have come.”

“Maybe next time,” you offer. You’re unsure if telling him that you didn’t come because you don’t know what you are to him is wise at this exact moment, and so you decline to offer him a reason. Not that he asks. “I miss you too. I miss you coming to see me at work, made my day.”

Jeongguk laughs to himself. “I miss it. Coming home on Saturday, can I see you then?”

You pause to think. “Ah...it’s Yoojung’s birthday.” Yoojung is Yoongi’s sister, which Jeongguk remarkably remembers. He frowns, questioning. “There’s a party at her house, I’m obviously going because I’m family.”

“Yoo is a fan of the band, I think,” Jeongguk says. “Maybe I’ll ask Yoonie if I can come, surprise her or something. Wanna see you.”

“You can’t wait an extra day? I think I’m free all day on Sunday,” you offer, but Jeongguk declines.

“Nah. Greedy.”

He sniffs once, curtly and quickly, like inhaling sandpaper. You repress a sigh, not wanting to give away anything that might upset him, and you tuck further into the kitchen to escape the noise of the couple on the couch. It rises in volume, Jimin’s tone calling for you which Jeongguk can surely hear, but clearly cares little for.

“Fair enough,” you reply, smiling. “Are you going to go back in and party?”

For a second, Jeongguk says nothing. Unbeknownst to you, Jeongguk leans against the damp bricks with his chin tucked to his collarbones, gaze hazy and a smile on his lips. The air is cool enough to straighten his head, at least clear his vision from speckles to something clean.

“Just like talking to you,” he mumbles. “I don’t know, I don’t know if I wanna party anymore.”

“Then don’t, baby, it’s okay,” you tell him, trying to avoid eavesdroppers in the living room. “Find Seokjin and leave for the night, hm? Have some rest and then we can see each other when you get back for Saturday, m’kay?”

Jeongguk says nothing, listening in the background to Yoongi and Jimin as they heckle you into living room to finish the movie. He wants to say something, more than anything he has words on his mind, sentences on the tip of his tongue; he doesn’t. His head isn’t clear enough for him to trust himself to speak. So, instead, he takes an inhale of the outside air and glances around at his surroundings, observing the moonlight on the lake nearby and the dark green ferns around the car park.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna go to bed,” he decides to say.

“That’s good. Just let me know when you’re home safe, okay?” you tell him, silencing the duo with a finger to your lips and the couple on the couch suppress giggles of amusement. To them it’s funny. “Okay?”

“Yep. I’ll text,” Jeongguk promises. From behind him, the door to the club opens and you can faintly hear a voice calling him. It’s out of your hands but you hope that it’s Seokjin, or another member of the band. “Miss you.”

You smile, “I miss you too. Get some rest, okay? I’ll see you on Saturday.”

Jeongguk hums. His voice is gone in the wind, too small to speak out.

(HIDDEN HILLS)

“And, you know, don’t get me wrong- I love parties as much as the next person, believe me, but if you can’t have an Iron Man balloon just because your parents are too damn lazy to go across town to Party City to get me one, then is it really a good party?”

Min Yoojung takes a sip from her glass and practically shrivels with distaste. For some or known reason, she had assumed that when you turned eighteen, life would dramatically change and you’d suddenly enjoy the taste of alcohol. Or, at least, that’s what UK TV shows had told her- mind you, she now knows that’s entirely inaccurate.

“I mean, think about it,” she continues with a huff. “Yoongi gets his own private club hired out for his birthday with the members of KISS playing on stage, and I can’t even get a balloon?”

Yoongi sits directly across from her on the patio sofas, a cigarette between his two fingers and a glass of red wine on the small table. He hides a smirk, feigning absolute disinterest as his sister speaks, waiting until she’s finished and looking between yourself and Jimin for some sort of explanation before he speaks.

“It’s because you’re adopted,” he replies smoothly, which only sets her off more.  

To some extent, what she is saying is not flawed. For Yoongi’s eighteenth birthday, he had gotten everything he wanted, things he brought up in passing wrapped up and gifted to him on the morn of March 9th. And, Yoojung is walking proof that the myth of the baby sibling being the favourite is simply not true. Granted, Yoongi’s only the favourite because he’s semi-famous, whereas Yoojung still attends public school and dines in three star restaurants with allowance money she may as well not have. That’s not to say that her birthday sucks; it doesn’t, because the Min’s have money and standards and this party in the backyard might make a headline in some Indie magazine online. Who knows.

It’s leisurely and small, with only few celebrities in attendance not including the Min’s and their relatives. You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the life of stardom- unfortunately, being the step-daughter of Axel Choi therefore meant having a camera in your face once or twice. Even though Axel was no relative of yours, and by no means did he ever have the audacity to assume he could fill the role of your Dad: Axel was an okay guy, protective of his family and by extension, protective of you. You didn’t mind, just one less camera to hide from, one less ugly photograph uploaded online for a bit of money. 

That being said, Axel pulled a few strings and got a few A-Listers to show up, including a KPOP group that Yoojung had liked when she felt like an alien in her own country. Amongst those are some of Yoojung’s friends, who fear sitting near Yoongi because he’s the hot older brother type, and fearful of you who they don’t know, which isn’t any less scary from them knowing you.

“You haven’t done the cake yet, right?”

From behind Yoongi, out comes Wheein, one of his old friends from University. She carefully climbs over the seat to sit next to Jimin, mindful of her glass that sloshes and Yoojung sighs, pressing her chin into the heel of her hand.

“Nope. Yoongi says people haven’t turned up yet, so I don’t know what’s up with that,” Yoojung shrugs. “Honestly-” now she rises slightly, her back straight and finger pointed accusingly, “you fucking planned my whole party. Is this the Yoongi and Co show, or what?”

“Yes,” Yoongi replies, as though it were obvious. He drinks. “Stop complaining and wait, it’ll be worth it.”

Yoojung scoffs, “Yeah right. If Tony Stark doesn’t come to this house dressed in his suit making that suity noise, then consider this birthday over.”

Yoongi pauses. “Okay then, I guess I’ll start sending people back home, because you can’t even get an Iron Man balloon, what makes you think he’s gonna pop round in person?”

Yoojung shrugs, “Poetic cinema?”

“Keep dreaming, cabbage patch baby.”

“Cabbage patch baby?” Jimin laughs. That’s when Yoongi ignores Yoojung’s frustrated groans and launches into an explanation behind the name, which involves Yoongi telling Yoojung when she was little that their Mom found her in a cabbage patch. You’ve heard it before, so you’re not listening when it’s explained. Your gaze instead lifts across the patio, awkwardly catching your mother’s as she looks around for you. 

Her eyes light up when she spots you and immediately she waves you over, not taking no for an answer as those round holes turn into slits faster than you can even mouth the syllable “n”. While Yoongi dives deeper into Yoojung’s misery, you pick yourself up with a sigh and head on over towards your mother.

She stands next to Axel, as well as Yoongi’s parents, and two celebrities you vaguely remember for being present at Yoongi’s birthday many moons ago. You fake a smile, wanting to be polite, wanting it to be over. It seems your arrival had been pre-planned and expected, for your aunt turns to you with wide eyes and brings you by the elbow.

“Y/N. We were just talking about you- you know Maxine, don’t you?”

No. You regard the stranger, subtly looking them up and down and smiling tightly. “Of course! It’s so nice to see you.”

“We were just talking about the arts- classical, of course, because we all know how you turn up your nose at the modern artists of today,” your Aunt says.

“Well, I do like modern art, I just find classicals more interesting to study. More composition, colour, texture...more empathy.”

“Whatever,” your Aunt interrupts. “Maxine has a son who works in the Louvre. He’s looking for junior guides, people to talk arty to visitors and make everything sound nice.”

Maxine smiles to intervene. “Actually, he’s not high enough in the business to request people, but I do know that he’s got an eye for women who like the arts. Miyoung told me that you study it at University level.”

You nod, bored. “Yes, I do. I’m not sure I want to move to Paris for a job, though...so…”

“Oh, no,” Maxine laughs. As she does this, one of Yoongi’s other friends, Jaehyung, creeps up behind you and quietly says hello to your mother and to Axel, half listening when Maxine says, “Duke is actually on pursuit for somebody who can match his artistic background.”

This, of course, makes Jaehyung laugh suddenly. He takes a slice of cake off a nearby tray and takes a bite, moving to walk away as he says, “Y/N doesn’t need help in the dating department, I don’t think.”

You glare at him.

“What does that mean?” your mother asks. “Do you have somebody?”

“No, Mom. Nobody.”

“Sure she does,” Jaehyung winks. “Was all over Instagram.”

“That’s a lie,” you gape.

“Is it?” he shrugs. Is it?

Aunt Miyoung gasps like she’s heard an offensive secret, touching her collarbone as she looks between Jaehyung and yourself. Jaehyung grins, saying nothing and running back to Yoongi before you can slander him. You’re in for it now.

“The boy that dropped you home?” your mother presses.

“You knew about this?” Miyoung asks. “Maxine, I am deeply sorry- I feel foolish.”

“I-Yes,” you tell her finally. Jeongguk, the man in question, might not be what everybody now thinks he is, might not even be what you think he is. “It hasn’t been long, so I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“And he’s famous?” Axel asks.

You look at him. “Yeah. I guess. You wouldn’t believe he was, but he is.”

Axel raises his eyebrows, by now not in the least surprised by the bitterness in your tone that has been there since your mother first introduced him. He’d probably be more surprised if you didn’t talk to him like that. Regardless, Axel takes it with acquiesce, glancing at your mother for some sort of guidance that she can’t and won’t give to him. It is in this moment that the back gate that leads to a leaky trail next to the spacious garage and past Holly’s doghouse opens, like arms inviting a hug.

The gate needs oiling, screeching to gain attention as it opens and in steps pairs of booted feet. The selection of pauses, gasps and an excited murmur from Yoojung’s friendship group out over by the poolside paints the picture for you, and you don’t feel the need to turn around. Noise alone confirms that the person who opened the gate is the same man in topic of conversation, his eyes dancing around the yard until they land on Yoongi’s father, acknowledgingly and then finally onto Yoojung, who he happens to notice quickly than he does the back of your head.

“Speak of the devil,” your mother starts, recognising him.

Axel hesitates visibly and audibly. “That man. That’s him?”

You purse your lips, taking a peek over your shoulder at Jeongguk. He speaks for himself; his muscles cling underneath a white tee and leather jacket that feels overdressed, paired with faded black jeans decorated with gashes and two zips. Axel only frowns because he’s not dressed like a prep, or a future Doctor like he would have liked for you, hypocrisy. Not even dressed ‘normal’ like boys he sees on the covers of magazines belonging to your step-sister, his own blood, his actual daughter. Jeongguk is dressed for attention, his gaze high over his glasses that you’re unaware he owned.

“It might be,” you reply quietly, and it’s telling enough that Axel sighs, folding his arms.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Miyoung says quickly. “You should have just told us it was Jeongguk.”

“You know him?” asks Axel.

Miyoung nods, sipping her wine. “Sure. He’s been friends with Yoongi for a few years now- we actually cleared him to visit for Yoo’s birthday.” Finally she acknowledges you: “Handsome boy, Y/N. How did you find him? Yoongi?”

“More like he found me,” you muse. “I tried to remain professional, but he kept coming back to visit me at work.”

“Romantic,” your mother sighs honestly.

Yoongi’s father laughs. “Jeongguk has a type.”

You stare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “The last time he had a girl on his arm he bed her and got rid of her. Funny, actually, you two had the same hair.”

“Hair isn’t a type,” Miyoung snaps.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, shrugging again. “Don’t get your hopes up, honey.”

“So, he’s a player?” Axel grunts.

“No,” you defend quickly. “No. Well- yes, he was. People change when they’ve found the right person to change for.”

Axel chuckles wryly. “And you think you’re the one to change him?”

“Not change him, but I’ll be there for him whenever he needs me,” you nod. “I trust him.”

“I can feel my ears burning.”

Jeongguk’s voice creeps over your shoulder before you can even notice that he has made his way over towards you; the feeling of his chin rested just above your ear makes your body pause and he wraps one arm around you, observing everybody in the huddle. The Min’s consider Jeongguk secondary family, welcoming him with a smile that Axel doesn’t reciprocate, not that Jeongguk gives a shit. For Jeongguk, this is monumentous, the time for him to prove himself to the guy who didn’t believe in him.

Actually, he’s surprised to find that the feeling of worship he felt for Axel as a teenager is still there, now that he’s standing right in front of him. It’s strange, subdued and numbing, but still there and pressing. Jeongguk tries to look anywhere but at Axel, but he can’t help it. Axel doesn’t even remember him, and has the audacity to stare at Jeongguk like it’s his first time, first impression of the guy dating one of his daughters.

Jeongguk pauses his thoughts and thinks back to you- are you dating? Wouldn’t hurt to lie, just to piss of Axel even more. Jeongguk wasn’t an exceptionally smart guy but he wasn’t stupid; it was evident that Axel didn’t like him, obvious from the ugly grimace on his face. He doesn’t care- Jeongguk relishes in his dislike. That gives him power, now.

“Jeongguk,” says Miyoung, smiling wide.

Beside her, your Uncle sips his drink, silent and occasionally glancing between Jeongguk and Axel. Maybe everybody disliked Axel, Jeongguk thinks to himself, as he stares at the pulled crease between your Uncle’s eyebrows. He knows vaguely that you’re related to the Min’s through your mother, and that they, unlike your mother, never got over the death of your Dad. Maybe they too can’t stand the sight of Axel, bragging and sour-faced, acting like a member of the family when in reality, all he is is an imposter, a wolf in sheeps’ clothing, awkward and looking misplaced.

Jeongguk smiles back at Miyoung. “Hi, it’s good to see you. Thanks for having me.”

“Our pleasure,” Miyoung replies. “You’re a punk, y’know- dating our Y/N. None of us had any clue! Why hide such a beauty?”

Jeongguk grins. His arm wrapped around you tightens gently. “Sorry. We didn’t want to rush into making anything public…” He trails off, looking at you. “Get nervous and tell people?”

“Actually, you have Jaehyung to thank for that,” your mother pipes up with a sigh. For the first time, Jeongguk looks at her entirely. She looks nothing like you, too done up with surgery and makeup for him to see a resemblance. Maybe you looked like her before, maybe you favoured your Dad. “I’m Jennifer, Jenny, by the way. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Jeongguk smiles constantly, accepting her tight hug as she welcomes him. “Jeongguk.”

“Y/N doesn’t talk about you,” she says.

“In fairness, I don’t talk about anything,” you add, but she’s not listening. Jeongguk is, though, and his heart tugs. He’s got the situation kind of figured out.

“I don’t blame her,” Jeongguk replies smoothly. “We weren’t sure it was time to make things official- it’s new.”

“And it’s serious?” Axel asks, speaking for the first time.

Jeongguk watches him. “Yes, sir.”

Axel bristles. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Axel, I’m Y/N’s father.”

“Step father,” you cut in.

“Father,” he repeats. Axel extends a hand outwards for Jeongguk to shake. Even though he hesitates, Jeongguk accepts, firmly shaking it. It’s a good handshake, Axel ought to be impressed. What doesn’t sit right is Axel calling himself your father- something he’s never been given the right to say.

“We actually have met before,” Jeongguk says, and around his arm he feels you tighten, briefly glancing up at him.

All eyes in the huddle are on Axel, including the long forgotten Maxine who watches quietly. “Did we? I don’t remember you.”

“Well, it was a long time ago,” Jeongguk explains with a flat tone. “We were in Busan. You came into my work and bought some cigarettes, I had your opinion on some of my work.”

While Axel thinks about it, your mother gasps happily, clueless and embracing her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Honey, it’s great that you helped this young man.”

Unknowingly, the Min’s writhe on their spots. They know this story. They know the truth- maybe that’s why they dislike Axel the way everybody else does.

“Did I?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk continues, with the same flat tone that makes you shudder. “Yeah. You told me our music was shit and that I’d never make it in the business because I was a Korean boy from Busan with dreams I couldn’t reach. You told me we’d never succeed and that we’d be stuck in Busan flipping burgers and working night shifts at 7-11, and that the only way I’d succeed was if I was American. Dunno if you remember that, but I did.”

Nobody says anything. Not even Axel, who stares coldly.

“Well, we made it,” Jeongguk laughs quietly. “I took your advice and it really helped motivate me to prove you wrong. We’re number one on Billboard and we’re making history as the first all Korean band to top the charts and headline The Governors Ball next year. Not bad for a basement boy from Busan, right?”

Your mother gulps. “That’s really wonderful, Jeongguk, you should be really proud.”

Jeongguk pities her. “Thank-you. We worked hard for it. Now we’re here.”

“And I suppose it will do Y/N some good, being with somebody so successful.” For the first time since Jeongguk’s arrival, Maxine speaks up. She cradles her champagne glass tenderly and examines Jeongguk with her slinted fox-like eyes, as if nursing a different agenda.

“Thank you,” repeats Jeongguk. He tightens his arm around you, obviously enough to create a statement. While it’s mostly to prove to everybody- and himself- that you and him are an item, it’s also to rub extra salt into Axel’s wounds, his face like he’s sucking on a lemon. “Y/N helps keep me driven a lot. I owe her so much already, I’ll make her happy and do her proud. Thanks to Y/N, I don’t think I could be here. I’m here because she suggested it, actually, for Yoojungie.”

“And a good job, too,” Miyoung finally says, trying to avert the tensions. “Else Yoojung would be miserable at her own birthday party.” And everyone laughs, apart from Axel, not that anybody cares. “Jeongguk, shall we start the music up?”

Jeongguk nods. “I’d love to. Thanks, Mom.”

She smiles, walking away to prep. Feeling Axel’s stare cold on your skin, you gently push yourself into Jeongguk, until he’s walking backwards towards the selection of trees where you turn in his arms, looking up at him. Jeongguk smiles honestly for the first time, his heart thumping.

“Hi,” he says gently.

“Well, you know how to make an entrance,” you note thoughtfully. Jeongguk’s eyes rake your own, wordless. “Be careful how you act around Axel. He’s strangely protective.”

“I thought he wasn’t family.”

You frown. “He’s not. But he’s still… you know. Part of the family.”

Jeongguk says nothing at first. “I get it. I do,” he assures with a nod. The next moment, he has his hands on your upper-arms, smoothing. “It’s good to see you, by the way. You look beautiful.”

A smile crosses your face. “It’s good to see you, too. Missed you.”

“I missed you too, we just got off the plane this morning,” Jeongguk explains. Took a nap on the way home and then got dressed and we came straight here.” He pauses playfully: “Do I look okay?”

You laugh girlishly, catching his elbows with your fingers. “You look great. Who knew you wore glasses?”

Jeongguk grins. “They’re fake, I’m a fraud.”

“Of course,” you joke. “Like all rockstars.”

“Hey, don’t bring in my fellow rockers!” Jeongguk laughs too, an unusual sound. “As much as I wanna stand around and stare at you, I need to go and say hi to Yoojung and perform and stuff. It’s kinda why I’m here…”

“LOL,” you say. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Guk. Go, I’ll survive.”

“Okay,” he resists. “But I’ll come back later, yeah? Can’t ignore my girlfriend.” Jeongguk raises his eyebrows mischievously and then, rustles in his pocket whilst speaking, “Oh, wait. Happy-” he checks the time and shows his phone screen to you as he steps backwards, “-ten minute anniversary, babe.”

As Jeongguk steps away, dragging his fingertips along your palms as he steps backwards towards the curved pathway around the pool, a warm feeling simmers in your stomach. Maybe it’s the sunlight shining gold across his skin or the way his smile finally reaches his nostrils, extending wide, his eyes folded into moons- but something about the whole ordeal seems safe, seems gorgeous and heavenly, at the same time domestic. He winks, turns and heads towards the rest of August Blue sheltered around Yoojung and Yoongi, and you’re left with the imprinted image of Jeongguk’s smile on the spot of grass he just stood on, burning, refusing to leave.

[23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: so i don’t think ur family like me…. [23:39PM] Jeongguk❣️: am i out of the picture now?

The sound of your phone fills the room and pulls you out of the bathroom, which connects to your family bedroom back in the house your family live at currently. Yoojung’s party had ended hours earlier, the grand finale with Jeongguk helping bring out her cake, fireworks on the evening, a hand on your waist.

Rubbing at your wet hair, you sit on the bed and reach for your phone, glossing over the messages, smiling.

[23:40PM] You: hey now [23:40PM] You: i don’t think my family like me either [23:41PM] Jeongguk❣️: wanna run away and be my family? [23:42PM] Y/N: where are we running to? [23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: idk yet [23:42PM] Jeongguk❣️: somewhere nice [23:43PM] Jeongguk❣️: far away [23:43] You: omg yes [23:44PM] You: kinda wanting to go to hawaii...what are your thoughts on hawaii, gukkie? [23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: hawaii on a first date? imagine that….. [23:45PM] Jeongguk❣️: u DO dream big [23:45PM] You: i tried [23:46PM] Jeongguk❣️: it’s not exactly hawaii [23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: but how about a late night rendezvous at olive garden

(At the same time…)

[23:47PM] Jeongguk❣️: omg … as if i just spelt that word right [23:47PM] You: autocorrect, u cant fool me [23:47PM] You: and omg sure…..,,,,,, [23:48PM] You: something tells me ur already here and thats why you’re asking

(A honk outside your window.)

[23:49PM] Jeongguk❣️: 🤪 [23:49PM] You: my hairs wet 🥺 [23:50PM] Jeongguk❣️: i’ll roll down the windows?

(A sigh.)

[23:50PM] You: pls give me five minutes

Jeongguk had been parked up outside, his car hidden half in the shadows by a flickering streetlight, inconspicuous and with the inside lights on. It had taken all but three minutes to find his car, and another three for you to warm up to talking to him inside the car. Slipping into the passenger seat with the sound of Magnetic Moon on the AUX and the shining smile from Jeongguk had been nerve-wracking, perhaps nerve-wracking is even an understatement. Nonetheless, the song had rolled to an end and just before Tiffany could transition into the smooth vocals of Lana, Jeongguk said his first few words beyond “hi”.

Olive Garden was a few miles away from your neighbourhood- small and pushed to the side with a selection of palm trees scattered outside, like a postcard for Malibu. Like most, if not all American’s, you’ve been here before, already have a go-to on the menu. Jeongguk drives into a parking bay near the shrubs and opens the doors for you, pulls out chairs, goes the extra mile ordering wine in advance in a private section of the restaurant that you didn’t know existed. You’ve only ever been here with Yoongi and Yoojung, two celebrities who sometimes have the luxury of leaving the house and not getting immediately noticed.

“What do you wanna do after?”

Jeongguk, halfway through cutting his sirloin steak, glances up with an honestly surprised expression. “You still want to hang out after?”

You shrug, taking a sip of the wine. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because our first date since I got back from tour is at fucking Olive Garden,” Jeongguk states.

“I like Olive Garden…” you mumble, which he hears.

After swallowing a large mouthful, he sends it down with a gulp of wine. “Well, I’m not gonna complain. Shall we go for a drive? You ever been to the beach at night?”

“I live in LA, who hasn’t been to the beach at night?”

“Okay, true,” he replies. “I used to do it all the time in Busan, too. Lived right across the road, could see the sands from my front porch.”

Once dinner is over, and once Jeongguk has quite finished coercing you into sharing an ice-cream sundae with him, Jeongguk takes you up on the invitation to drive to the beach, the night sky like looking into the eyeball of a stuffed animal, the stars like specks of dust on an Afterlight edit. The boulevard is lit up by circular bulbs, tiny attractions for moths, bright like close up stars. Jeongguk drives smoothly, the window slightly down and occasionally his eyes glanced over at you; your hair is messed in the wind, the sound of Kim Petra on the AUX sending your body into little bops, something Jeongguk wants to remember for the rest of his life.

“So much for letting my hair dry.”

Jeongguk laughs from the back of the car, closing the boot and bringing out some spare towels to hand over to you. They’re yellow, like fresh little buttercups, and slightly wrinkled, smelling like faint juice and sea-salt. Regardless, you take the towel off him and begin to quickly rub it against your hair, once again trying to even out the wetness, less than the shower back home, enough to still drip on your arms and legs.

“You splashed me first,” Jeongguk replies, standing outside the door whereas you sit with your legs hanging out, sideways on the backseat. Behind him is the beach, dark and the sound of the ocean lapping like television static, the faint sound of the amusement arcade down the prom. His body is wet too, the ankles of his jeans clinging to his skin with ocean water.

You turn your head to him, smiling. “Guilty.” When he laughs, you continue to speak and bring the towel back down to your lap, “Okay, it’s what they all do in the movies. What else are you supposed to do on a beach at like...midnight. Wait, what time is it?”

“I dunno, like, three?” he guesses.

“No way.”

“Feels like three. Check the front.”

You lean over to check. “It’s definitely not three.”

Jeongguk shrugs boyishly, that same grin creating dimples near his chin. “Not far off. It was a guess.”

“Good for a guess,” you assure. Jeongguk wrangles the towel from your hands politely, wringing it out and throwing it back into the boot. Your hair can dry again in the wind when Jeongguk drives away, the same way it did when he picked you up. He has this theory on his mind as he walks back around to the open door, although the words leave him when he returns, having found that he has nothing at all to say now it’s come down to it.

Jeongguk moves back in, his body shoved between your legs slightly as he moves closer. You gaze up at him, the light behind him making his body glow dark, sighs like whispers in the quiet ambience.

“I really had a lot of fun tonight,” Jeongguk says, like it’s a secret. “Even though this morning your family almost had a heart attack discovering that we were, well, whatever we are...I still had fun.”

You hum in agreement, watching his face as it moves into the light. “Yoojung had the best time. I haven’t seen her that happy since she met Paul Rudd at Disneyland, and that’s seriously impressive.”

Jeongguk laughs quietly. “Paul Rudd.” He almost can’t believe that.

“As for us,” you continue, stress on the ‘us’ which brings Jeongguk’s attention full circle and back entirely onto you in the backseat of his ride, “well...what are we?”

For a few moments, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. “I have the fantasy and the reality.”

You nod, encouraging, and so he continues. “The fantasy is that we give it a go. We try it, really try. Y/N, with every small inch of my delicate, precious body-” (giggles are delivered by you as he speaks)- “I absolutely adore you. And I never knew I could feel like how I feel with you. I only ever wanted the sex, and even then, I didn’t want it that badly, and then you wandered into my life and everything feels so...so...I don’t even know a word. I just know it feels amazing when I’m with you- I feel amazing. And, of course, the reality is that we’re two sad early twenties rich kids who are pining and don’t know what to do about it.”

And it’s true, it’s so true. The sad reality of it all was that unless either one of you stepped up first, this dynamic of uncertainty would continue on as the norm. Where you were too shy to be bold and make a move, Jeongguk felt too insecure to step up.

“Well, then…” you start, chewing the inside of your cheek, thinking. “How about we try making the fantasy our reality?”

Nothing.

Jeongguk blinks and cocks his head in bewilderment. “Really?” You nod. “You want to?”

“If I didn’t want to, why the hell would I leave my house with wet hair to go eat at Olive Garden and lovingly stroll on a beach at midnight?”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh, so it was loving?”

“I was definitely feeling some kind of way,” you confirm.

At long last, Jeongguk smiles wide, shuffling closer. His hands wrap around your face gently, like holding a delicate bird in two palms, and his fingers brush against your ears, tickling the skin, nails fingering your hair.

“That’s good to hear,” he replies, “Great, actually.”

“Yeah?”

Now, Jeongguk hums, his trademark reply for when his eyes are too lost for words to be conjured up to describe how he feels about what he sees. He is, what one might recall to be as “lost for words”. His teeth clip at his bottom lip as he questions what he’ll do next, and for a brief moment you catch his tongue darting out in nervousness as he leans closer, smell of mint on his breath as his lips touch yours, and the heavens open.

Metaphorically and literally, so. As Jeongguk brings you closer to him, his lips still pressed on yours, his heart elevates into subspace, his body light and euphoric. At the same time, the sky grumbles, hungry, and it begins to pour, tiny droplets on the roof of the car and on Jeongguk’s back. He winces, doesn’t pull away, and quickly separates himself from you to squint at the sky.

He sees nothing, because it’s way too dark, but he feels it. Sighing briefly, Jeongguk turns back to you and nods his head upwards, miming for you to shuffle backwards into the car. A rush of something hot creeps down the middle of your body as you do so, feeling Jeongguk’s hand on your calf as he climbs in after you, his ankle caught on the door bringing it to a close, but not fully. The red alarm light is bright and begging for attention but Jeongguk pays it no mind.

Instead, he crawls back to you, eager to pick up what he left. It’s welcomed, warm and inviting, as Jeongguk holds you back closer to him and returns the kiss, hot and open mouthed. Something clicks inside of you, a moment of realisation as Jeongguk sets himself over you, his thighs like a cage and his hair tickling your eyebrows. When this feeling simmers, you grin, something Jeongguk is only mildly surprised about. He doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t really need to.

In fact, Jeongguk doesn’t really say anything at all; he doesn’t need to, and he actually can’t, given the volume of the rain now it comes down heavier. It’s so loud, almost deafening, which you almost thank out loud for. The rain at least covers up your breathy moans as Jeongguk’s hands wander, pulling at the bottom of your dress and fisting it into a ball, the fabric rising higher.

When Jeongguk finally pulls himself away, it is selfish. He pulls back and sits down, in the middle seat so there’s a window view from every angle, his feet in either footwell. Jeongguk shakes his head and hair out of the way, his hands making their way back to you to bring you up and over into his lap. This time, Jeongguk accepts a kiss from you, his cheeks cupped almost by your hands which gives his hands free reign to smooth across your body, swiftly lifting the bottom half of your dress up, wrapping it like a belt across your hips. If the rain were silent, he’d like to have heard you, heard the way you whimper as the bulk in Jeongguk’s jogging bottoms brushes against your pussy, the fabric of your underwear making it hypersensitive and ten times more exciting.

Jeongguk’s lips widen, his mouth open and inviting for you, accepting tongue when you bring your lips back to his after a short break. His eyes flutter and roll backwards, the tickle of your breath through your nose on his skin as he holds you closer, as if you can get any closer than what you already are. Then, when you quite suddenly bite down onto Jeongguk’s tongue and lips, he groans, pleasured, his hands moving beneath your skirt to grab your ass, lifting you up and down on his very attentive boner.

If Jeongguk or yourself ever thought that the first time you’d have sex would be near the public beach in the back of his car in the middle of a very thunderous rainstorm, you might have laughed, or said there would be more to it. In actual fact, it’s just how it is- Jeongguk shimmies himself out of his bottoms soon enough, reaching into the back side of the car to pull out a condom, since he always has some in case of emergencies, like most guys do. He’d like to not use one, but he knows it’s not safe- he doesn’t know if he’s got something, or if you’ve got something. Either way, he rolls it onto his dick in a record speed and sinks you down onto him all within the same ten seconds, and, yeah- it’s not what he expected to happen, it’s not what anybody expects to happen, but it feels right, feels great. When he’s fucking somebody as good and as lovely as you, he’s not allowed to be picky on the location.

He can’t allow himself to be picky- he knows that he’s wanted you ever since he saw you swirling to Dancer in the Dark, he knows that things are meant to be how they play out. Actually, he doesn’t mind it. He likes the risk of someone seeing, likes the way the windows fog up and how the car rocks slightly, obvious to people outside. Jeongguk relishes in that excitement, crossed with the pleasure and arousal coursing through his body when his attention is pulled out of hit thoughts and back onto you. The rain quietens down and he hears you, feels his hands grip tighter around you and his guided pace quicken, all with a breathy high tone in his ear, occasional breaches of rain and roars of thunder, an orchestral accompanying each of you through the sex, until gushing sounds of rain are what he hears when he sees white in his eyes and over his dick, a melting handprint in the condensation on the window.

[02:34AM] You: def just heard something on my balcony so if i die, pls tell yoongi that it was ME who lost his left airpod and it was also me who stole his signed Nirvana album it’s on my shelf im sorry [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: um  [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: wtf….. [02:35AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: u really just gonna die and not leave anything for me???? [02:36AM] You: SSKSSKKSKSKSK [02:36AM] You: u can have my bank account details + contents [02:36AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: !!!!!!!! [02:37AM] Jimin 🦶🏽: omg rip y/n <3 u will be missed omg…..omg cant believe ur dead

All jokes aside, you stare for a long time at your balcony doors, going insane at the sight of nothing at all through the glass and your curtains, slightly see-through to allow the sun in the mornings.

The night burns on your eyes, flashing swirls of colour taking over as you stare for too long at seemingly nothing at all. Quite possibly, it is the wind, or an animal that has climbed onto the balcony from out of one of the trees. It’s happened before- one time, a family of raccoons migrated onto your balcony during the September months of last year, and stayed there for so long that you forgot your balcony had doors. Those same doors are locked, like they always are on a nighttime, but the bedroom window remains open, slightly pushed out to allow in a breeze to circulate the room.

Knowing that it’s probably nothing, you settle back down into bed, drifting back into sleep remarkably fast for somebody previously quite concerned with being killed. This fact is startling- not just to you, but also to Jeongguk, who cocks a leg over your balcony rail and then through your window. What also shocks him was how easy it was to do all of this, now that he’s standing in your bedroom with nothing to say given the fact that you’ve fallen back to sleep.

Jeongguk sighs softly. It’s been about a week and a half since the beach, and the car, and the rain and the first time, but it feels like it’s been months. Jeongguk had to leave for a few days, three at the most, to film some puppy interview for Buzzfeed and continue other solo interviews while the rest of the band settled for a break in their LA residence. Every moment away felt like agony, so painful that Jeongguk found himself back outside your house, surprises stored in emails on his phone.

He steps quietly over towards your bed, wincing when his weight on top of the comforter causes a loud rustle and squeak. Still, you don’t wake, not until Jeongguk lays himself over you with his hands near your shoulders, his voice quiet and murmuring your name, hair tickling your face, lips on skin.

“Wha-Jeongguk?” you ask quietly, your voice groggy. “How’d you get in here…?”

“I think you need security, urgently,” Jeongguk replies quietly. When you roll over onto your back, he smiles gently and wraps hair from out of your face around your ear. “And you need to start locking your windows. You make a robbery look very easy.”

You sigh. “Oh. I thought it was okay.”

“Just be glad your intruder is me and not somebody else,” he says caringly. “Sorry I woke you.”

“No,” you say, rubbing your eyes. “I was awake...and then I closed my eyes for a bit. Hey, was that you out on the balcony?”

Jeongguk grins. “Knew you saw me.”

“I didn’t. Well, I did, but I thought I was being overly paranoid,” you tell him. You yawn away from him, “What time is it, babe?”

Jeongguk purposefully ignores the feeling in his chest. “It’s two fourty.”

You groan. “Are you stopping the night? Get in, I’m tired.”

Jeongguk brings himself down to kiss you once. “No. No, no, you can’t sleep right now. I wanna go out.”

“Now?” you ask, aghast.

“Yeah. Let’s go somewhere.”

“At like three-am?”

“Yeah, sorry, it was the only time I could get it. I wanna take you somewhere special.”

Once Jeongguk is finished speaking, you open your eyes wider and observe him. It’s only then that you notice his clothing; over his upper body, he wears a large oversized grey hoodie, slightly worn out and wrinkled with the drawstring missing, and as always, dark jeans that blend in with the night. A frown worms its way onto your face, your expression unreadable to Jeongguk’s eyes.

“Get it? Get what, babe?” you mutter.

Jeongguk hums, like shrugging.

“Where are we going?” you ask, starting to sit up which forces Jeongguk to roll over on the bed, until his feet swing over the side and hit the floor. He wants to stay quiet for the sake of yourself, considering he’s not looking forward to accidentally waking up your family. You’ve been staying at your parents' place for the entire week, abusing reading week for sleeping in, going out for something to eat, and returning home to watch Glee rather than finish your art assignments. Naturally, Jeongguk doesn’t want the whole family to reject him just because he woke them up at three in the morning to collect you from your room.

“Hm,” Jeongguk starts, straining to hear if anything outside your bedroom catches his ear. He faintly hears the sound of claws across the wood, remembering you once mentioning that your family had a dog. “How about we go to Paris?”

You whip around to look at him, making out his silhouette in the dark. “Paris? Are you fucking with me?”

“Why, what’s wrong with Paris?”

“There is nothing wrong with Paris,” you affirm, gasping. “I just...really? Paris?”

“Yeah. Thought we could stop by The Louvre to see that dude Maxine tried to set you up with.”

You snort quietly, moving to turn on a lamp which brightens the room into shades of orange. “How did you even know about that?”

“I hear things,” he says, shrugging. Jeongguk then shakes his head and looks back at you, making his way to the bottom of the bed. “No. I just really wanna take you out somewhere special.”

“The beach was special to me,” you tell him.

Jeongguk smiles, “Me, too. But...Paris.”

Laughter bubbles at the back of your throat. “Okay. Let’s go to Paris. Why not?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk agrees, laughing also, “why not? Need help packing anything? You won’t need a lot, I can take you out when we get there.”

You pull a face, looking back at Jeongguk. “Wow...our first vacation together and you’re already going to spoil me?”

Jeongguk grins widely, “Well, on our first date I humped you, so I guess we’re pretty unconventional.”

You have nothing to say in reply to that.

(PARIS)

One thing you never thought you’d get the chance to do is take a trip on a private jet, holding up the scheduled flight times of other aircraft at the airport. That changes the second that Jeongguk pulls up outside of LAX, his hand carefully and tightly clamped around your own as he escorts you whilst also being escorted by his own small handful of security right into the large building. Thankfully for him, the airport is empty, occupied by sleeping flyers who wait on hard, metal chairs, the tinny sound of music playing at volume three.

His jet is small, yet luxurious; it’s everything out of a movie set, decorated in mocha creams and whites, clinking glasses of champagne waiting to be swallowed. His pilot knows him by name, and there’s a handpicked air hostess who looks bored and old, her lock screen a picture of her children. Jeongguk smiles at her, even addresses her by name and introduces you with a chirpy tone. The lady looks surprised, covering it up with a tight smile of nervousness. Maybe you’re the only girl Jeongguk’s ever brought on the plane before. Maybe you’re another girl he’s brought on the plane, you don’t know for sure.

After take off, Jeongguk spins in his recliner seat and drums his fingers in his lap. You sit opposite, looking meek, your gaze out the window at the dark clouds and sky. As you continue to fly, the sky opens up, into ombre colours that fascinate. One is looking at the beauty of nature and the other is looking at the beauty of a woman. Neither says a word.

When the plane reaches touch down, the airport is quite bustling and energetic, thankfully again no fans who caught an air of mystery from Jeongguk’s suspicious tweets at one in the morning, when he spontaneously booked tickets without even getting the green flag. Money to waste, risks to take, is what he’d say. Jeongguk helps you carry your small bag to the hired vehicle, an inconspicuous black car with black-out windows. He’s half expecting the vehicle to give him away, but nobody present actually gives a fuck about who is in the car and who isn’t. So, he climbs in without being noticed, his hand in yours, right up until the doors close and you’re hotel bound.

“Fuck, jet-lag.”

Jeongguk dives onto the bed, his back on the duvet and nose tipped up to the ceiling. Presently, you’ve been in Paris for a few hours, staring at the roads below with tired and sleepy eyes, heavy shoulders, a day indoors. Jeongguk’s been to Paris before, quite a few times actually - you haven’t, seeing the city in glimpses outside your balcony. To his right, the bathroom light clicks off and you shuffle out, a towel wrapped around your body as you cross the width of the room.

“Right?” you agree with a small frown. You crouch to pick up a fallen jacket off the back of the chair, tucked underneath the white vanity. “I almost fell asleep in the shower.”

“Yeah? You tired?”

“Exhausted,” you say honestly. “Once I’m dry, I think I might head to bed.”

Jeongguk hums in reply, maybe agreement. He lets you do what you need to do; of course, he takes a peek, because he’s a boy and he can’t help himself. You’re dressing by the window, staring out at the pretty Eiffel Tower who shines, lit up for the evening. The room is dark, dressed in midnight tones, the only light outside and the glow of one of the lamps upon the table top. Jeongguk is so wordlessly in awe that he doesn’t care about not being able to see. He sees your silhouette against the light of the city, curved and beautiful, hidden away by a long button up that you picked out of the wrong suitcase, not that he cares. His cheek is pressed against the pillow and he feels his body lifting up off the bed like he’s levitating. God, his chest is so light, it hurts, he wants to scream, he wants to cry, laugh, smile, leap up and yell. You finish buttoning and turn and he returns to the mattress.

The bed dips as you crawl up onto it, your knees by Jeongguk as you sit next to him on the bed. Instantly, Jeongguk’s hands move to your hair to move it away from your face as you look down at him, one hand on your knee also. On command, the smile on his lips widens softly when you brush away his fringes off his face, humming and then reaching down for a kiss, stealing one from his lips without warning and another off the slope of his chin.

“Paris is pretty,” you tell him. Jeongguk hums. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He shrugs awkwardly. “Sorry it’s not the Maldives, baby.”

“Whatever. Paris is better,” you say. “Our view is gorgeous.”

You look back at the window. Jeongguk does not. “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“Must have been expensive as fuck,” you exhale, turning back to him. His hand that was once on your face drops to your back, wandering until it’s found on your ass. It feels nice, you can’t complain.

“Rich kids of LA come to Paris to make noise and take tourist photos by the Eiffel Tower,” Jeongguk replies, joking but sounding serious, which is a talent of his. You laugh, so he knows it’s something you recognise. He laughs too. “It’s actually in Yoongi’s name. Just asked him if I could use it for a weekend away.”

Your brows curve upwards in amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m a fraud, it’s not my apartment,” he sighs, “but, at least we’re here. Like it enough, and I’ll buy us a house here.”

“Are we really there yet?”

“Might be,” Jeongguk theorises. “Wanna try it for a bit longer?”

Nothing is said. Outside, a car honks and you sigh at the same time, through your nose, playing with your fingers with Jeongguk’s locks of hair that grow longer over his face. His head hasn’t moved, still squashed against the pillows, his earrings tangled and most likely stuck to strands of his hair, a difficulty for when he decides to move. He feels your hand on his face again, comforting, and he inhales your familiar scent and knows you’ve come closer by the time you’re there, pressing your lips to his.

It’s fleeting, fast. You pull away right as Jeongguk comes to terms with what you’re doing, and so he follows you up as you move away. He’s sitting up, his hands on your elbows as he moves to kiss you again, finish what you started.

A bar door outside opens and music spills out, just as Jeongguk’s hands move from your elbows to your ribcage, his heart in his throat when you reach up to tenderly hold his face, fingers near his ears on his neck. This is euphoria; your hands drop, Jeongguk moving once more to prod and palm. As he kisses you, his thumbs gently massage around your breasts, in circular motions, soft and cradling and exploring. Into his mouth you groan, quietly, like a vocal moan that lasts for a few seconds before being captured by his lips again. Jeongguk’s left hand claws at your boob, grabbing, reaching up to your neck. Now he’s holding you, his hair in his eyes tickling as he guides you. On your cheek, you feel his thumb grazing, holding you close to him even when you pull apart for a modicum of a second to capture your breath. Quite possibly, he could be sick out of nerves - your hands fall limply to his wrists, then down as his hands hold the damp back of your head. After a little longer, Jeongguk pulls himself away, his eyes half-lidded and yours closed entirely.

He admires what he’s done and what he sees. Once more, he kisses you, dragging it out until he’s moved away again, simply admiring. You’re far from done, though; you pull him back after catching your breath, your eyes now open and slightly fuzzy. Jeongguk smiles, warmly, gently. You might cry. As his hands drop from your head to the top of your shirt, fiddling with his fingers around the buttons, your lip gets caught between your bottom teeth and Jeongguk’s eyes are drawn to the sight. He might make a comment, might not. He decides not to. Instead, he moves back in and bides his hands time to undo your buttons.

The cool silk of your shirt drops as he undos the buttons, sliding like rainwater down your shoulders and arms, until it pools around your elbows. Thankfully for him, Jeongguk’s only in joggers and a button down, something he can easily slip himself out of. You’re wearing next to nothing, now that the shirt’s out of the question; all that decorates underneath is underwear, which Jeongguk doesn’t care for anyway. His hands paw at the shirt, trying to undo the last button without pulling away but it feels impossible. Frustrated, he huffs and moves away, his gaze locked on the final button above your pantline and he flushes when a laugh leaves your lips, something small and delicate and girly. He twitches.

“You, too,” you say, once the shirt is removed and you’re only in underwear, which is next on Jeongguk’s list of things to remove. He looks up with mild surprise, having the audacity to be confused by what you’re talking about. It is only when your fingers curl around the waist of his joggers that he smiles, like an idiot, and hums charmingly.

“Shuffle back for a minute?” Jeongguk asks, and you do, excited and buzzing when Jeongguk quickly pushes the joggers down his thighs. When they bunch around his ankles he kicks furiously, like a child, grunting - and you’re laughing, giggling like a school-girl, drunk on the residue of his lips. Of course, he smiles too, because happiness is a goddamn drug. He inhales with exasperation, muttering “아이씨” under his breath. He finishes it up with a chuckle, a voiceless laugh out of his throat, and then he kisses you again.

Jeongguk eventually ends up lifting you, one arm flush against your waist and his other hand graciously ripping down your underwear, careless and selfish when he hears the fabric tear. Your eyes widen, having heard it too, but you’re too dazed to mention it. The undies are tossed towards the balcony door and Jeongguk settles you back on his lap, for a brief moment. He kisses you again, pulling himself snug against you and then, he lays you down.

“So pretty,” Jeongguk comments, his hands sliding down your sides.

“You can’t even see me,” you say.

Jeongguk shrugs, shuffling down the bed. His elbows pinch into your thighs, locking his arms over them and his chin is on top of your groin. “Don’t need to. I just know.”

You slightly laugh, finding it endearing. Jeongguk chuckles too, pressing a kiss to your stomach and then his hands push up at your calves. With your legs up into arrow shapes, knees to the sky, Jeongguk kindly peels them apart, planting himself right in between.

“Jeongguk,” you breathe his name. He grins, you can feel his mouth extending against your skin. He doesn’t reply.

Situated between two smooth legs, Jeongguk’s head dips and dives. A groan is rasped out of you, followed by a string of moany exhales as Jeongguk’s tongue lays flat, covering every inch of your pussy further with sucks and nips that make your toes curl. Jeongguk’s not done this to you before. He feels slightly anxious, because he wants it to be good for you. He wraps his arms around your thighs, burrowing his head in.

“Mpmf- Jeongguk,” you gasp, your head hiding in the comforter. Jeongguk’s on his stomach, nonchalant. Jeongguk licks everywhere he can, kitten licks that stretch out into long ones, exploring. Your mouth drops. Jeongguk moves one hand away from your leg, his fingers curling up to your pussy to stretch out your labia, one finger lazily brushing against your clit. Each brush is exciting, teasing, sensitive. He hums. He’s heard you. He wants to hear more.

He doesn’t do more, because Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cum yet. He has his fun, feeling your thighs lock around his head and quiver when his fingers swipe on your nub, his tongue inching into your cunt, driving out sounds from your lips. Jeongguk entertains that for a few more minutes, hard and throbbing by the time you’re begging for him to stop, rather than keep going.

When he pulls away, your legs shake, quivering like being left out in the cold for too long. He lays down flat instead, tapping your body for you to make a move when you’re ready, which doesn’t take long. Soon after, he feels the brush of your wetness against his leg as you haul yourself up and onto him, hovering over his middle, your hands on his chest.

Jeongguk cocks his head thoughtfully. “Want to?”

You bite your lip. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Hair falls over your shoulder. “Do you have a condom on you?”

“In my bag, somewhere,” Jeongguk suggests. He glances to the pile of bags near the door, “But it’s so far away. Are you on the pill?”

“No,” you frown. There’s nothing for a minute. “Want to anyway?”

Jeongguk hesitates, “Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah. I do,” you tell him. Just as you’re about to take his dick in your hand, Jeongguk reaches out to stop you. You look up at him, finding the glimmer in his eyes in the dull light, “what?”

“What if I cum?” Jeongguk asks.

“I’d like you to.”

“What if I cum inside of you?”

A short silence. Jeongguk drums his fingers impatiently against your thigh. “Whatever,” you settle with. His heart trembles when your hand wraps around him. “I’d be a good Mom.”

Jeongguk laughs, then, his other hand joining the other on your waist. “If it happens, I’ll look after both of you. You can be unemployed and pampered if that’s what you want.”

“God, that’s fucking sexy,” you sigh.

He’s kidding, so are you, but the risk is still great. Jeongguk swallows a thick lump down his throat and settles his hands on your hips, embarrassed to be nervous with the build up of you rising up on your knees, planted either side of his waist. A tremor of coldness makes him shudder as your hand touches the base of his dick, hypersensitive without the rubber. For a brief moment, he catches your gaze, slightly hidden away behind fringes of hair that cast over your eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, nervous and rubbing his hands against your skin.

You dip your head. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Mhm. I just - just want it to be good for you,” he confesses. “Don’t want it to hurt you. Don’t want you to regret it.”

“Well, are you clean? I got tested not too long ago, did it before my last pill. I’m clean.”

Jeongguk shifts. “Did it on tour with Hoseok. He was going because of Rosie and I was going because he suggested it for us. I’m good. That sound alright for you?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It sounds perfect for me.”

And so it’s perfect for him, too. Jeongguk questions whether this is right, whether he should stop, but right now he can’t think properly. Not when he can feel himself growing rigid in your grasp, the bristle in his body when you slowly rub your clit across the head of his cock, vibrations. He grunts under his breath, his fingers shaking against your hips. Looking up at Jeongguk once more between your hair, catching the pull of his bottom lip in the scarce light and feeling his body rising beneath you, you shake your head over your shoulders and position yourself. And then you sink.

Paris is a gorgeous city, bustling with life. Across the narrow road, where another small apartment sits with a bay window and a balcony decorated with plants, the lights flicker in strobe patterns, neons bleeding into dulls seeping into pastels. A party, a parade, an applause when the size of Jeongguk adjusts inside of you. He can’t hear you, not over the noise of the party that has suddenly birthed in the moonlight hours. Perhaps Jeongguk is thankful for this, and the way it covers up his noises also.

Jeongguk groans inwards when you clench around him, familiar with the way it feels, remembering the unaccustomed sting and burn. After some time to adjust, you relax, making your first movements up and down, testing the waters, building a rhythm. Jeongguk can’t breathe, his mind paused, his breathing lodged in his throat, his lungs singing. You keep it up, the momentum, finding a pattern in the beat of the music in the background; the bass is your routine, each bump a drop onto Jeongguk’s hips, the brush of his head against your inner walls, euphoric.

“Oh my - fuck,” Jeongguk hisses, his voice barely heard. You catch it though, like a faint whisper, the sound burning your face with embarrassment. His grip tightens, nails digging into your skin as his palms slide from your hips to your ass. He holds like handles of a motorbike, guidance.

You’re slouching, hunched over with your hands on Jeongguk’s chest. He feels a pressure, not sure if it’s your hands pushing down or if it’s his own body, forcing down an orgasm he doesn’t want to have too soon. He sees purple behind you, your dark silhouette cast over him like an angel. With every slap against his body made by your ass, Jeongguk groans, grunts, borderline moans. When he strains to hear your gasps of air something in the background masks them, a sabotage.

“Feel good?” Jeongguk asks. His hands move to your wrists.

You whimper, thoughtless.

“Babe, does it feel good?”

“Mhm.” Your head falls to the side, cheek on your shoulder: “Mhm, feels good.” Something moany comes out of your lips, something muffled and whined. Imploring, spoiled. “Fuck, Jeongguk, that feels so good - keep….keep it like that.”

Jeongguk thinks it over, familiarising himself with his own movements. His grip squeezes around your wrist.

“Like that?” He follows with his body slowly thrusting up, like he would move if he were grinding the air, like inching his hips up under the covers to feel his dick on the duvet.

“Yeah,” you breathe. Even though he can’t see that well, you glance down at him: “can you - can you hold my hands?”

Jeongguk feels his stomach sink and rise, flipping, the butterflies. “Sure, baby.”

When you feel Jeongguk’s hands in your own, you hum to yourself, rising with your fingers interlocked. Jeongguk lets you do what you want with them, obliging when you slightly part his arms, hands locked on either side in the air. You sink, and rise, and sink, and rise, and Jeongguk is lost in the stars. Red, orange, blue, magenta- the rainbow appears as your wings, Jeongguk’s eyes trying to adjust in the dark on your face, on your tits, on the bits that are grainy in his vision. He imagines instead, based off memory of the beach, and the rain. When he feels your cunt clench around him again and your hands slip away to fall back behind you, Jeongguk curses into the air and lifts himself up, his arms wrapped around your middle.

“You feel so good,” Jeongguk says, his lips ghosted over yours now that he’s sitting upright. “Mhm? Hear me? Fuck, you feel so fucking good right now-”

You whimper. Jeongguk seals it up, steals it, captures it with his mouth as he kisses you. His hands are all twisted and searching, one between your shoulder blades and the other on your ass, his mind reeling when you put your palms on his cheeks, absolute bliss. It’s loud, or it would be if he could hear over the sound of the music in the apartment over, and Jeongguk picks up pieces in between the basslines, vocals and harmonies stripped apart so he can find your voice underneath. He pulls his mouth away, latching it to your neck, where your mouth is near his ear, right where he wants it. A hot flush runs up his body when he feels your breath on his ear, hears your needy moans and groans, feels your hands clawing at his back.

“Ugh- umf, Guk, I’m - I’m close,” you pant, his reply a bite to your neck. He sinks his teeth in, like a vampire with dull teeth, and you cry out into his ear. His cock twitches inside of you, the ridges of his cock smearing against your walls. He hums, not sure if you’ll hear it. You don’t. He pulls away and mouths the bite.

“Cum when you want to,” he says sweetly, moving his mouth to your ear briefly before moving back away. His hair is soft against your neck, his head angled to kiss at your skin, covered in a glow.

“What about you?” you ask.

Jeongguk smiles, his teeth present on your skin. “Don’t worry about me. I’m right behind you.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck, his eyes closed serenely as he holds you tight, holds you as you bounce up and down for the finale. Above him, your body trembles.

“Tired,” you laugh breathlessly, and Jeongguk makes a confused noise, like he hasn’t quite heard you correctly. After no reply, he sniffs, collecting you in his arms to hold you tighter than before, using his energy to move you. You may as well be paralysed, a fucktoy for him as he bounces you up and down, basking in the moans in his ear, pornographic and nasty and lewd and heard over the music that has changed tempo.

“Ah!” Jeongguk grunts into your ear with every slam onto his dick, feeling his body seize up in warning. “Gonna - I might…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. You’re not listening to it. All you can focus on is the feeling in your stomach, pressing your nails into Jeongguk’s skin.

Jeongguk saves his own release for later. He focuses, instead, on you and making you feel good, slowing himself down in the race so that you can come first. His lips press back to yours, tongue hot, and he stops bouncing you. One arm is tight around your waist and the other snakes to the front of your body, between your legs where around your thighs he finds your clit, rubbing with his thumb. He can feel your body tense and dither over him, a tightness clenching around him as you squirm, Jeongguk’s hips tiredly thrusting upwards in a slow and steady rhythm.

“Ah - Jeongguk,” you cry, words sinking into his mouth. “Baby-”

With one final flick upwards, Jeongguk lets out a throat-forced grunt into your mouth right as the pot spills, and down the length of Jeongguk’s dick trickles white. You can’t see, it’s dark and blurry, and everything feels numb. It’s nothing like the beach, which was sweet and tender and a rainy haze. This time, it’s a burning that feels dull until it races up your body, like hot goosebumps, until it washes over your body like the drop from the tallest roller coaster. Jeongguk milks it up, his own hands shaking as he grunts wordlessly, until he stutters, his toes curling.

“Umf- babe,” he pants. He moves his hands, you’re attempting to move for him but you feel stuck. Instead you clench, hard and soft, Jeongguk squirms. “Gonna- I’m-” He’s silent. One moment, you hear the laughter and a cork pop outside, and the next moment, Jeongguk’s moans are in your ear, his hands rubbing up your thighs as he moves twice upwards, as if storing his cum in safe spots inside. And then, as if on cue, he pulls out, stuffing his hand where his dick was to feel the cum drip out, like a melting ice-cream.

On his forehead he feels your lips parted and breathing and he fiddles his fingers around, non-sexually, curious. The cum stains his fingers, dressing them, and he laughs from his chest, lost of breath.

Jeongguk sighs, slotting his fingers into your mouth quite suddenly. He can barely see you, the light is still dim behind you but it’s enough for him to make it out, the grain obtrusive. He feels your lips close around his fingers and your tongue on his fingertips, a dazed smile across his face.

He sighs again. “Shit. You’re incredible.”

With a wet sound, he moves his fingers out. Despite cumming, his dick is still semi-hard, on it’s way out. Jeongguk preens when your arms wrap around his neck, his mouth needily on yours for a brief kiss. “So good.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly.

“The best,” he confirms. “Where’ve you been all my life, hm?”

You laugh through your nose, quiet. “Wasting money at Uni and working for my cousin.” He laughs too, a small one that makes him sound small. You play with the hair at the back of his head, “Sorry for making you wait so long.”

He shrugs. “Was worth it. You’re worth the wait.”

You hum in reply, too tired to move.

“Sticky,” you say with a frown.

Jeongguk’s arms tighten around you, acknowledging your words. “And you just got clean.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll shower in the morning.”

After a short while of sitting there, you slowly untangle your arms from around him. Jeongguk has the nerve to be confused, a small hum in question as you climb off him.

“Where you going?” he asks.

“I’m going to pee,” you reply. “To be safe.”

“Oh. Okay, pee on.”

“Sorry,” you say. Leaning up to kiss his lips, Jeongguk smiles into it and all the while as you move to hurry towards the bathroom. The sound of the toilet seat being lifted, and a slight squeak from the toilet that Yoongi desperately needs to consider replacing, and then Jeongguk settles down onto the bed with a happy sigh. His chest rises and falls as the party goes on outside, fireworks behind the Eiffel Tower.

He could get used to this.

Something wakes you up with the sunrise, twisting into soft orange colours that stretch across the agriculture of Paris. It barely lights up the city, enough for shadows to still be drawn across the mocha coloured buildings, the stone still cold in the shade. You wriggle inside the sheets slightly, discomfort between your legs and very slowly, your eyes adjust to the slight light brewing in the bedroom.

The patio doors leading out onto the small balcony are drawn open, the see-through curtains swaying like slow hips in the wind. Beside you, the bed is cold, untucked and open where Jeongguk has climbed out. Mentioning Jeongguk, you notice that he sits on the end of the bed, facing the sunrise and the Eiffel Tower with a notebook in his hand. The pages are folded over the spine, bulking it up, and he taps a pen against his ear quietly. The sound is all you can hear alongside the early-rising birds, a car honk outside and the next door neighbours hanging out of their window with chocolate bread and strong coffee.

“Mmm. Guk?”

Your voice is slightly hoarse, bedirdden, and Jeongguk manages to hear it as he turns his head over his shoulder. A smile dawns on his face and he shifts, one hand on the bed and the book closing shut on its own. “Hey, baby. Sorry, did I wake you up?”

You yawn, rubbing your eyes. Some mascara rubs off onto your hand. “No, you’re okay.” He doesn’t say anything at first, there’s no competition for the next word. When your vision finally settles onto a visible image, you see Jeongguk’s face and the book in his lap. “What are you doing…? Wait, what time is it…”

“It’s about five thirty,” Jeongguk estimates, although he’s not sure. He’s actually not far off, it’s five fourty one. “And, um...not much.” For a moment, Jeongguk sounds bashful. He shrugs, hiding the book and smiling at you. “You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll be quiet.”

“Kinda hungry,” you admit. You inhale the air, “Oh my God, those fuckers next door have coffee.”

“Chocolate bread, too. Caught a glimpse when I opened the doors.”

You groan. “What the fuck…”

Jeongguk laughs, genuinely. His head turns back towards the Eiffel Tower, in awe, and after a few minutes of nothing but morning silence, you sigh and clamber over the sheets. They’re cold, crisp and wrinkled, and Jeongguk looks up at the noise. He frowns, only because you’re wearing barely anything.

“You’re gonna get cold,” Jeongguk points out, his hands reaching for the bed throw that had been kicked onto the floor during the night. “Want me to close the window?”

“No, it’s pretty.”

“It’s cold, though.”

You push your face onto Jeongguk’s shoulder blade. “Whatever.”

He chuckles, resigning from the conversation. You’ll win anyway. A tiny bird lands on the patio rails, and you inhale the morning air, planting a kiss on Jeongguk’s shoulder.

“You sure you’re okay?”

This makes Jeongguk look up. His eyes wear confusion and adoration, round and searching as he looks over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why, why wouldn’t they be?”

“I worry about you, ‘s all,” you reply quietly. “All the time.”

Jeongguk’s heart breaks.

“I’m...I’m good,” he replies honestly. “Really good. I haven’t been doing this great in...well...I don’t know, forever? Call it cringey, or whatever, but having you in my life...Fuck, it’s changed everything.”

You gaze up at him. “You’ve made a pretty big difference in my life, too, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m here for you. Always.”

Jeongguk doesn’t miss a beat- his hand wraps to stroke your hair, curled from the shower earlier, pressing a little kiss to your nose. He nods, and his hair brushes against your face. “Yeah.” He nods, confident, “Yeah. Actually- LOL,” he laughs, “I. Um, I wrote something.”

“Oh? Yeah, what did you write?”

He reopens the book. The pages are littered with lines of writing, alongside small doodles in the margins, words like arrows shooting across the lines. His hands flip to a page that has the corner marked down, the numbers “23” in bold outline at the top of the page. You inhale, nervous, your eyes lazily looking at the lines.

“Just a song,” Jeongguk explains. “Woke up, looked over at you, just got the idea. I had to write it down as soon as I thought about it. Got the melody and stuff worked out, just need to make a note and tell the guys when I get back.”

You hum, genuinely enthralled. You quickly look at him, “Can I hear some?”

If it were light enough, you might have caught a blush across his face. He clears his throat, shy.

“I’m fadin’ away off some kind of drug, maybe it’s lust, maybe it’s love,” his voice is quiet, almost as if speaking the words is something wrong, “I know I said I’d straighten a week ago, I feelin’ though, bout to reach my peak, you know. This city’s got me fallin, now, I’m fading away, I’m losing my head…” He mutters the lyrics, singing quietly. As he skims over what he’s got scribbled down, you can feel your heart thudding, soaring, feeling numb and soft and warm and everything else.

“It’s about you, called 23,” Jeongguk says. At some point, you’ve missed the rest of the lyrics, intent on gazing at Jeongguk like he is God’s angel sent down from Heaven. He is so beautiful, so kind and pure. “Sound okay?”

You nod, and maybe Jeongguk sees tears pearling in your eyes. “Yeah. Fuck- it sounds beautiful, Guk.”

A smile immediately reaches across Jeongguk’s face. It lights up the room better than the sun, now reaching higher into the sky. “You’re beautiful. I wanna make you so happy.”

“You do make me happy.”

“Yeah?” he asks, laughing, his eyes turned into moons. “Well...Look. I’ve never had to ask anyone, so it’s awkward as fuck right now, but...like…” He laughs, and you do too, because you know it’s coming, “Do you, like...wanna be my girl?”

“Your girl?”

He laughs louder. “Fine - my girlfriend! Y/N L/N, the light of my small and sad life, will you please be my girlfriend?”

Once your laughter has calmed down, and Jeongguk’s hand tiredly slips from your hair down to the bed next to your own, you really, honestly look at Jeongguk. Above everything else, you can’t quite believe that you are here with him; with somebody you never thought you had a chance with, with somebody who you would do absolutely anything for. The way you presently feel about Jeongguk is overwhelming and dangerous, so strong that sometimes you feel afraid by it. You bite your bottom lip, amusing the idea of actually thinking about it, and then you nod.

“Sure. Of course,” you agree, kissing his shoulder. His head follows you, his breath on the bare skin of your shoulders as he ducks his head to kiss the side of yours. “You’ve got me.”

Jeongguk feels like he could quite honestly burst into tears. “I’ve got you.”

(“I’m not 23 though,” you say to him once the love has died down. He cracks a smile and pushes you back onto the bed, returning to look at the Eiffel Tower.)

part two (final)

[namjoonspiration]

Saudade

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Summary: After your parents died, you are the sole heiress to a booming electrical company, and your grandmother has put you to the task of making connections. Although, Park Jimin didn’t seem all too happy to see you.

Word count: 16.8k

Rating: M

Genre: fluff, angst, 1920s AU, non-idol AU

Warnings/Tags: Short, non-descriptive mentions of parental death and miscarriage (i.e. no gore or graphic material); so much angst; mentions of amnesia, apathy and heartbreak; lots and lots of kisses. It’s not really a hardcore story. I purposefully tried to keep my story from being too heavy.

Author’s note: This is my first BTS fanfiction, so please go easy on me. I tried my best at editing, so I apologize or any blaring grammatical errors or word misusage. If you liked it, please leave a comment or a heart. It’ll help me continue forward with my other projects 🥺👉🏻👈🏻Enjoy!

Masterlist

You were the picture of perfect togetherness. Your grandmother had made sure of it. You must present yourself as the rightful heiress to the family fortune if you are to be accepted by these people. Rightful heiress? You’re the only heiress. These people can be quick to judge. No, really? The thought hadn’t crossed your mind all day. The maids had entered your room before the crack of dawn to get you ready for battle for a brunch that wouldn’t start for another several hours.

White satin T-strap shoes with crystal embellishments adorn your feet, which stand in a precise parallel position. White gloves fit perfectly to your fingers, hands fold neatly right over left, which hold your soft pink Chanel purse. Your loose, straight-fit dress of a matching color falls below your knees. Underneath are the ungodly itchy flesh-tone tights that you had despised since you bought them. Your hair, which is painstakingly curled and styled into a bob to the give the illusion of the short trendy hairstyle nowadays, was half-hidden under a white cloche hat. Pearls--all of which tapped with every step into the mansion of magnificent grandeur--adorned your ears, neck, and wrists.

It was hard to focus your eyes on anything in this place. At any point, dark rich colors of purple, red and dark brown jumped out to blind you, making you feel as though the sun didn’t come out this morning. Portraits upon portraits of the family line the walls, along with countless gold plaques. Oddly shaped awards and random busts perch on pedestals. Clearly the people who owned this house--the Parks--were not shy about displaying their achievements in the industry and within their family. But then again, who lived in the East Isles and didn’t have the main entrance of their home brag about their elite status for them?

You didn’t. Yes, because you weren’t a narcissist. You were also “new money.” Your family hadn’t been in the electrical business for generations...  People seem to forget it’s still a relatively new thing.

To be honest, you didn’t really care you were here. The pomp and circumstance didn’t make your heart jump or your fists clench. In fact, nothing these days invoked much emotion from you. You’re not sure when you started feeling that way and why it was so prevalent. Maybe it was after your parents passed away a couple years ago. Your grandmother came to live with you to help you transition into your new life. You had asked her repeatedly how your parents died, but she never could bring herself to tell the story. You mourned your parent of course, but after a while, you just stopped feeling most emotion.

So, as you walk behind your grandmother--who was talking to Mrs. Park presumably--you wondered about the food you might get to eat. If anything brought you real satisfaction and pleasure from living this lifestyle, it was the meals. However, you don’t think scarfing down food will win you any points with these people today. Your job was to network today, make connections to build your way up in the world, or so your grandmother had put it. Once again, you didn’t care, but your grandmother very much. did. So, you decided that you would do your best for her. Your apathy may get you most days, but you know in your mind without a doubt that doing this for your grandmother would make her happy, thus should make you happy. Even if you didn’t feel it.

Hopefully, Hwasa, your life-long best friend, is here. She should be. After all, her family doesn’t own the largest portion of the country’s textile industry for nothing. She was always best dressed and loved getting a kick out of the other ladies gawking at her perfectly stitched clothes that were ahead of the trends.

“Y/n,” your grandmother calls, waving at you come forward to her side. You obey, and the butler opens the door, announcing your arrival. Good lord... You felt like fresh meat being served to the wolves. But, of course, the scene before you is masqueraded in pastel colors, silk furniture, glimmering flute glasses, and smiling faces to make the whole situation seem less grotesque than it felt.

You survey the room to find most eyes on you. Ladies piled around the couches in front of the open floor-to-ceiling windows had stopped chattering and sipping their tea. More of them clustered in small groups had stopped their conversation as well, some even daring to give you looks of disapproval. However, there were some that might as well have been deaf to the announcement, much to your gratitude. Young children still run around the room or played their games on the lawn just outside the open French doors. Old men continue with their odious laughter and cigar smoking. Even the young men don’t spare you more than a glance or two.

Except for one.

A young man with dark blond hair dressed in a dark blue suit, gently cradling a flute in his ringed hand. Perhaps more striking than his blue-gray eyes are his full pink lips, which were slightly parted to reveal one slightly crooked tooth in an otherwise perfect row of white teeth. You have never seen a man with a face such as his. But what is even odder is the way his eyes shone as he looks at you.

You tilt your head slightly, holding his stare. What a weird way to look at a stranger.

Your curiosity about his strange behavior only goes so far. Suddenly, the brightness on his face is gone, replaced with a deep frown and a scowl aimed towards his shoes.

So much for trying to appear approachable and “make connections.” You had not learned anyone’s names yet, and it was already going south.

Your grandmother tugs on your arm, steering you over to the ladies surrounding the couches. Then the introductions and small talk begin. You only had enough motivation to explain the premise of your family business and some future projects and contribute to some of the minor gossip being shared. You didn’t want to be doing this at all, but your grandmother had put in so much effort today to make sure this went swimmingly. She was also putting up with it so you and she could continue to live comfortably.

Every so often, you survey the room again. After almost two hours into this, the men have filed out, probably to have a crack at the gaming tables, and the children have been laid down for their afternoon naps. You thought you even needed a nap yourself. Or maybe it was the conversation. In any case, you excuse yourself to freshen up.

Once outside the room, you take a deep breath, inhaling the air free of heavy perfume and bad breath. You wonder around the seemingly endless hallways, looking at the paintings and occasional pieces of art. Anything to delay going back to the gathering.

Then, you hear harsh. whispering. Slowly, careful of the noise from your shoes against the floor, you approach the voices and peer around the corner.

To your surprise, it’s your best friend. She is talking furiously with a man, whose back is almost completely facing you, his hand propping himself against the wall not too far from her.

“Hwasa?” You call, stepping out completely from the corner. She jumps at her name, and the man stiffens. She looks over the man’s shoulder in your direction and smiles brightly at you.

“Y/n, is that you?” She steps around the man and greets you with a hug. “It’s so wonderful to see you! It has. been way too long.” You relish in the brief happiness you best friend’s hug gives you. Then, your smile falls. She notices when she pulls away and follows your line of vision.

He is looking directly at you. The young man who actually isn’t happy to see you after all. “I must be interrupting something,” you state blatantly. “You know, Hwasa if you wanted to be intimate with the son of the house, you should have demanded he take you to a less-traveled part of the home.”

They both look at you in surprise, and it’s enough to make you cringe. “How did you know he was the son?” Hwasa asks.

“The paintings.” You look around the hallways, twirling your finger. “Kind of obvious.” Hwasa lets out a laugh. The son breathes out a sigh--not sure if it’s relief or something else--and then chuckles to himself. “What’s so funny?” He stops but doesn’t respond. “Hwasa, your man is very rude.”

She smiles sweetly and laughs off your comment, “Oh, he’s not mine. I’m way above his standards. And I don’t like men who can’t bother to be polite and introduce himself properly to a new friend,” she hisses in his direction. “Come on, let’s have a proper introduction.” She grabs your hand to lead you closer to the man. “Y/n, this is Park Jimin. His family is in the metal industry--”

“Old family steel,” you mutter, but both fo them apparently hearing it.

Jimin looks at you curiously, “How’d you figure that? The paintings?”

You shrug, “I just knew that. Maybe it somehow came across my vision when I was admiring all the participation trophies at the door,” you say, with probably a little too much sarcasm. His eyebrows rose, and you saw Hwasa try to hold in a giggle. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Park.” I think. “I’ll just leave now, so you two can finish your private conversation.”

Hwasa stops you, her mood cheery again. Probably to mask the shocked and confused feelings coming from Mr. Park. “It’s alright, y/n. I need to do my pleasantries with those in the sitting room. Why don’t you get to know Jimin more? I find him to be one of the more tolerable ones in this lot. I’ll see you later.”

Once Hwasa is gone, you continue to look around the hallway, but Mr. Park is just staring at you as if he’s trying to figure you out. You notice he’s somewhat taller than you, his sun-kissed skin looking even deeper in color in this oddly lit hallway.

“Are you mind-reading skills working?”

He is caught off guard. “What?”

“I was wondering if you had discovered anything about me while you were burning holes into my head.”

He scoffs. “You’re awfully blunt.”

You simply shrug again. The emotionless part of you felt dominating today, so his comments and strange looks don’t affect you. You think back to Hwasa’s bright personality and heart-warming interaction when she greeted you. It sparked some brief brightness in your stoic heart, but only briefly.

He clears his throat, trying to fill some of the awkward silence that has blanketed the atmosphere. You look at him expectantly. He raises his eyebrows in response. “Y/n, may I ask you something?”

“Please address me as Miss Y/l/n as we’ve only just met.” You’re quick to speak. He shifts awkwardly on his feet. You soften your tone. “But go ahead.”

“Would you like to have dinner this Friday?”

“Dinner? Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Park?” You are taken back. What an incredulous question. And he had commented you were the blunt one...

“Uh...” He trails off, confusion rippling across his face. “Yes, I am.”

“Mr. Park, may I ask you something?” You don’t even give him the chance to nod. “When I first arrived, you seemed very unhappy, and dare I say, disgusted, at my presence, and now you’re asking me to have dinner with you?” It seems that Mr. Park is giving you quite the first impression as you feel anger start to flare in your chest.

His eyes widen in panic. “No, y/n--I mean Miss Y/l/n. Please do not misunderstand my earlier interaction.”

“Misunderstand? How could I have possibly misunderstood you when you looked directly at me and appeared as if I insulted you?” You fire back.

“I apologize. It was not like that. You just reminded me of someone who broke my heart.” He rushes out in a hurry to redeem himself. Well, it didn’t seem clear to him that he failed until a few moments later when he squeezed his eyes shut and palmed his forehead.

You practically gawk at him. “I’ll give you the effort of trying to save yourself Mr. Park, but I will not give you a second chance to redeem yourself over dinner.” And with that, you walk off, heels clicking against the mahogany floors.

What a spoiled boy. He’s probably never had a woman reject him before. It brought you satisfaction that you were probably the first. Never has a man looked at you with such distaste and then try to woo you with dinner. You don’t know what he wants from you, but he wasn’t going to get it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the gathering stretched into the late hours of the afternoon. You didn’t see Mr. Park or his parents for the rest of the day. Hwasa grabs you before leaving the party, telling you to meet her for lunch Friday on Brouton Street.

And you do, and it turns into more of a shopping spree than a lunch date. Not that you were complaining. You never complained when it came to shopping and trying on the latest fashion trends out of Europe. You stepped out of probably the thirteenth ship you’ve visited today when you notice it was already two pm, and you still haven’t eaten lunch yet. You were waiting outside the shop while Hwasa was paying for her new bracelet.

You survey the bustling street, thinking about what you wanted for lunch when you spot a pair of men that seem to have all the ladies giggling to themselves and their friends. Even wives are looking twice, much to the discomfort of their husbands who definitely noticed, but weren’t immune to looking a second time as well. As they got closer to you, your vision focuses.

Mr. Park.

You couldn’t resist rolling your eyes at the name. What a surprise. Next to him is a dark-haired young man you didn’t know. They were dressed to the nines, complete with hats and walking sticks--more for fashion rather than function.

They spot you, and the young man gives you a big, boxy smile and a wave. Your eyebrows shoot up, and you look around to make sure he wasn’t waving to someone else. By the time you stop looking around, they’ve approached you. The strange young man seems ecstatic to see you while Mr. Park looks embarrassed. Serves him right.

“Hello, Miss y/n.” The young man greets you enthusiastically.

You blink. “I’m sorry, have we met before?” And why didn’t you greet me formally, you wonder. You glance towards Mr. Park. His lips are pressed, hand tightening on your walking stick.

The young man laughs charmingly, but somewhat nervous. “Oh, right. It’s just... my friend, Jimin, here mentioned you!”

“Did he?” You smile, sweetly. Almost too sweetly. Mr. Park’s jaw clenches. “How did you know what I looked like?” You inquire further for the fun of it.

Mr. Park quickly cuts in. “I--we saw you b-back there,” he gestures down the sidewalk. “I said, oh that’s y/n--Miss y/l/n. We met the other day...” He looks anywhere else but at you in the eyes. You narrow your gaze at him.

The store’s door opens with the ring of a bell, and Hwasa joins you. “Taehyung! It’s so good to see you again.” She gives him a quick hug. You notice some of the other women walking around you are gawking or giving her death stares. “I hope your time in Paris was spent well. Have you met my best friend, Miss y/l/n? She’s new to town. Her parents made quite the fortune in the electrical sciences, and she is their sole heir. Y/n,” she gently wraps her arm around yours, “this is Kim Taehyung, a true artist. He has his own exhibit in Paris to display his work. He also dabbles a bit in photography.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kim.” You smile.

“Please call me Taehyung. Mr. Kim is my father,” he laughs, showing off that boxy grin of his again. You have to admit he’s a very charismatic person.

“Alright, but please address me as Miss y/l/n for the time being. I understand Jimin may not have told you my last name, but I would hate to see his rudeness rub off on your seemingly polished character.” You tack on a smile at the end, hoping Mr. Park feels the jab.

Indeed, he does. Mr. Park sputters, muttering “polished” under his breath like it was the last word he’d use to describe Taehyung. You ignore him.

“Yes, Miss y/l/n.”

Hwasa interjects, “Well, y/n and I are famished. Would you both care to join us for a late lunch?”  Before you could protest, Taehyung agrees enthusiastically. Hwasa takes his arm, leading the way back up the street. You pout. You wanted to eat with your best friend only, who you haven’t seen in forever. Mr. Park notices your sad expression and offers his arm to you. You simply look down, tightening your grip on your bags before following Taehyung and Hwasa.

Jimin rubs his face in frustration, watching you walk away without a second glance. He can’t keep tiptoeing around you. He made himself a royal fool and an ass last week at the gathering. He needed to fix this if he wanted to get closer to you.

Mr. Park catches up to your side. “Miss y/l/n,” he speaks politely.

“Yes?” You offer.

“I know we got off on the wrong foot, and I apologize if you find my behavior to be untoward. I was not very good at expressing myself the other day, and it bothers me greatly that you would think that I find you unpleasant when I really don’t.”

You consider his words. The apology was genuine, you know that. You also. know that he found you pretty. Or at least Hwasa had told you as much. You complained to her earlier about Mr. Park’s behavior at his. house. She had laughed, claiming it was because he found you attractive. You were confused as to what made her say that. She explained that you were all he could ask about before you found them in the hallway.

You didn’t know what to say. Hwasa wouldn’t lie to you. It certainly made your heart flutter that Mr. Park, an uncommonly handsome man--discounting his behavior--would find you attractive. You can’t say you didn’t stand in front of the mirror for a while after that figuring out what he liked about your appearance. In the end, you credited his odd behavior with the fact he found you pretty. While that did not excuse his rudeness, his present apology has rerouted the course of your thoughts. He genuinely seemed like he was trying to make amends.

“Alright, Mr. Park. I forgive you. I understand that sometimes introductions and first impressions can go awry. Especially if the man finds the woman astonishingly pretty and charming.” You gently fiddle with your diamond earring.

“Pretty?” he asks, chuckling.

You stop walking and turn towards him, “Do you not find me so?” Your tone is accusatory.

He looks a bit panicked. “No. I mean, yes. I--” You take a step closer.

“You what, Mr. Park?” You ask, looking into his blue-gray eyes, which are traveling all across your face before landing back to your eyes. Your brain has already started to take back every meaning you put to his apology.

“I think you’re more than pretty.” He finally breathes out, tension slipping from his shoulders.

Your heart pounds so heavily against your chest, your composure slips. A blush rises to your cheeks, partly from relief and partly from embarrassment. “I apologize,” you say, suddenly your voice much softer.

He didn’t seem to hear it. Instead, he smiles, eyes twinkling. “I think you’re very beautiful, Miss. y/l/n.” Oh, your mind blanks momentarily. Now you felt like the fool. Your cheeks become hotter, pulse racing faster. He said it with such nakedness. He didn’t beat around the bush about it or tease you into guessing how you looked in his eyes. You lay a hand on your cheek, surprised at the heat. Hopefully he would think it’s the weather. It has been unusually warm lately. Your flustered state is clearly evident. Mr. Park grins cutely at you. While your head is still swimming, trying to process the abrupt change in your interaction, he gently takes your shopping bags from you before shifting it to hold in his hand that holds the walking stick. He offers his arm again, “Shall we catch up with Taehyung and Miss Hwasa?”

Your eyes snap to his. Your cheeks are still flushed, lips parted.

Jimin thinks it’s the most beautiful sight he’s seen.

Suddenly, as if you fell into a drunk stupor but without the disorientation and wild behavior, you feel warm and… fuzzy, like you were covered in a soft blanket. You haven’t felt this kind of happy feeling in what seemed like forever. And he does look incredibly cute with the way he was smiling at you.

Returning the sentiment, you take his arm. The muscles hiding underneath his peach colored suit jacket felt strong in your hands.

You two leisurely stroll, having lost Hwasa and Taehyung after they turned the street corner.

“Do you know where we are eating?”

“This little French restaurant between Main and Central. Le Lacroix Pâtissier.”

He hums contently, “I love their almond croissants and apple tartlets.”

“Really? Those are my favorite dishes! Are those your favorite?”

He shakes his head. “But I had a friend who insisted I try them once, and I ended up really liking them.”

You were pleased. “You have good taste, Mr. Park.”

“Please, address me as Jimin.”

Your smile to yourself. “Okay, Jimin. Since we are moving onto a first name basis, you may address me as y/n.”

He repeats your name. It rolled softly off his tongue. You like how it sounds very much coming from him. And you, without knowing it, tightly your hold on his arm, leaning more into his solid form as you continue to the restaurant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that Friday, you meet Jimin every week for several weeks at the same restaurant. First Taehyung and Hwasa joined you—you insisted Hwasa come with you to keep you from making a fool of yourself in front of Jimin—but after about two weeks, they claimed other commitments. However, you didn’t mind at that point. You grew really comfortable with Jimin. You talked about everything together—your favorite dishes and restaurants in town, your families and their businesses (okay, those were brief topics of discussion), your interests (you found out you both like dancing, upon which he offered to take you to a dance club sometime), your future plans… Of those, which then led course into deeper topics—marriage and love.

It was a strange conversation, and it wasn’t brought up during lunch. He actually had invited you over to his estate for tea and a meal of any foods that you could want—more of a change of scenery decision if anything. You were concerned that your favorite food might not be so favorite if you kept eating it for several weeks on end.

Following the delicious meal, he suggested a light walk outside. He led you out of the back of the mansion to the small private beach. You both kicked your shoes off, walking in the sand, letting the fine, white grains sift over your toes. You two strolled side by side, enjoying the sun’s warm on your faces, the summer air and each other’s company.

Then, Jimin had asks the question. “Has your grandmother proposed that you marry anyone yet?”

You shake your head, laughing to yourself. “My grandmother wouldn’t put that out there. At least not yet. I think she thinks it would be too soon after the accident.”

Jimin turns sharply towards you, concerning etching lines into his handsome face. “Accident?”

You nod sadly. “Yes. My grandmother told me I fell down the stairs several months ago, and I hit my head. She said it had frightened everyone we knew. She was concerned about my recovery from it all. I don’t think I’ll get married until life returns to normal,” you trial off. “But, actually… I don’t really know what normal is anymore. Not after the accident. It’s like I woke up in the completely different world, and I don’t know what I’m doing. There’s always this awkwardness I can’t get past. It’s like I’m walking on eggshells.”

You weren’t sure why you were telling Jimin all this, but you knew you could tell him, and he wouldn’t make fun of you for it. He wasn’t that kind of person. He seemed very open with you, so you supposed that in your heart, you could be vulnerable with him too.

After the silence became too long, you looked up from your feet and saw Jimin wiping at his eyes. “Jimin, are you crying?” You lay a hand on his arm to stop him from walking any further, and step in front of him. He bows his head lower, and you crane your neck to the side to try to see his face. After a few moments, he breathes in deeply, bringing his head up. He looks at you with eyes, pink and puffy from rubbing at them, and a slight upturn of his lips accompanied by a chuckle.

“The sand and salt keep getting in my eyes. That’s all.”

“Would you like to go back inside?” He shook his head. “Are you sure?”

“No, no, I’m alright. I’m sure I’ll be okay now.” He smiles at you, attempting to reassure you. He blinked away the redness in his eyes. Besides, you look too beautiful in the setting sun for us to leave, was what he wanted to add.

You return his smile. Then, you’re just staring at each other, taking in the colors the evening sky paints on your skins and in your eyes. Then, you ask him, “What about you, Park Jimin? Has your mother arranged you to marry anyone?”

“She did once, to the daughter of a man who owned a successful old railroad company.” He admits.

“Are you still to marry her?”

“No,” he hurriedly states. “I didn’t want to from the start. I eventually pushed it off enough that they let it go. They said they couldn’t wait around forever.”

“Why didn’t you want to? I’d assume a business like that would pile onto your wealth, and she couldn’t have been that hideous.” You inwardly cringe. Why would you try to reason with him?

He laughs, almost bitterly. “You wound me, y/n. To think that I would think about money and looks to be the top priority in finding a wife.” You open your mouth to assure him you don’t think so lowly of him, but he beats you to it. “But I know that’s not like that. You merely considering the things we have to think about in our world. And I know that’s not how you truly think either. I know you wouldn’t marry for money.” You hadn’t realized how close he was until he was gazing intently into your eyes.

“Then what would I marry for?” A soft, curious question.

“Love.” There is no hesitation in his response. He believes it whole-heartedly. Then, he pulls away. “Just as I once tried to do.” He reaches down in the sand, picking up a shell.

You didn’t expect that. “What happened to her?” Jimin’s jaw clenches and unclenches, but not in anger. This was really difficult for him. You suddenly regret asking about it.

Then, he says, “She left. And I haven’t heard from or seen her since three months after I proposed to her.”

“Why would she leave?”

He shook his head, “I don’t think she had a say in leaving, and so she left quietly.” He gently brushes the grains of sand from the shell, exposing its pure white and rose color.

“I’m so sorry, Jimin,” you say after several moments of silence. I’d never imagined that something so horrible could happen to two people in love.”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter anymore though. What is done is done, and I can only move forward to find that love again. Except this time, I’m never letting it escape from me so easily.” He sounds resolute, so sure of himself and you can’t help but admire him. He smiles, holding the bonnet shell out to you.

You accept it gratefully, pleased with the small gift. Glancing at Jimin, you see his cheeks have turned pink. Your mouth curves into a smile. You take his hand in both of yours, the shell pressed between your palm and his. His skin feels smooth, and although his hands are smaller than the average, they feel no less strong and comforting. You squeeze his hand lightly in comfort. The bonnet shell imprints a small circle in each of your hands, serving as a little promise of your connection with him. “You’re a good man, Park Jimin. And I hope you find what you’re looking for.” He smiles at you sweetly. But to his unhappiness, you let go of his hand much sooner than he thought you would. However, it didn’t take long before you realized how much you missed it too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t see Jimin for the next week and a half. He left to accompany his father out West for several days to learn more about the family business. When he mentioned it, you couldn’t help but pout, which he immediately felt guilty about. He told you that he’d very much make up for the missed Friday lunch tenfold. He promised the next Friday lunch you two would have all the food, chatter and enjoyment as a month’s worth of lunches. Upon this, you giggled and said you would expect nothing less.

During the days he was out of town, you quickly grew to miss his company. After only missing one lunch, you quickly realized how much more time in the week you wanted to spend with him. Those lunches on Fridays, along with the regular community gatherings, just weren’t enough. You wanted to see him every day. He brought brightness back into your days, made you feel warmth and happiness again. And when he talks with you about the hard stuff in life and is so honest with you, it’s like he’s filling in the empty spots in your life. Where your lifestyle of material and money is only the surface of your being, Jimin looks deeper and sees you as the person you are. He never wants to talk about business or money. He always wants to know about you. And you can’t ignore the way your heart flutters when you’re answering one of those many questions about yourself and you catch him so content listening to you.

He would relax in his chair, head slightly tilted to the side, lips turned up in a pleasant smile, his eyes gleaming with interest and admiration. Never once would he look away from you when you spoke. You always had his undivided attention. And the more and more you think about, you love it. His caring heart towards you, his kind words and gentle soul, the ability to be open around him.

But it was also more than that.

You like Jimin so much that you feel you’ve known each other longer than four months. It feels like a lifetime that you’ve known him.

You told Hwasa about it one afternoon while painting in the sunroom of your home, unsure what it meant. She merely giggled at you and said, “Y/n, you’re falling in love. And you know it, too.” You did know in your heart, but you couldn’t help but feel the shock of it all. But also, the doubt given your circumstances.

“But Hwasa, how do I know what love feels like? I feel empty most of the time. I don’t even know if I can know what love is.”

Hwasa stopped you right there, “I know where this is coming from, but you don’t have to you worry about that. No one knows what love feels like until it hits them. Besides, you just told me that Jimin makes you so happy and you miss him so much when he’s not here. Trust me, don’t think I don’t see the moping you’ve done for the past couple days. That’s emotion. You’re feeling everything for him with your heart, and there’s no reason to doubt that, no matter what.” And that was why you loved your best friend so much. She was a grounding force and always has been since the accident. Always a level-headed thinker and confident woman. A true role-model. You gave her the biggest hug, thankful for her friendship. Without her, you thought you would have reasoned yourself out of your love for Jimin.

Finally, after said week and a half, you are walking with Hwasa and your grandmother in The Grand Hotel for a large gathering of all the affluent families in the East Isles.

Of course, you and all the other ladies wouldn’t be in the same room as the men. Instead, the women would be drinking tea, tasting little cakes, gossiping and playing a few rounds of light-hearted card playing while the men ate their hearts out and smoked cigars while testing their gambling skills. They would talk of business, family dealings, blah, blah, blah.

Just as the last of everyone was filing into their respective places, you were trailing behind Hwasa and your grandmother to the tearoom. Then you felt a hand grasp your arm.

You gasp, whipping around to see Jimin with a playful look on his face. Your face breaks into the biggest smile, and he pulls you into an empty hallway in the hotel. When he let go of your hand, you pull him into a hug. “I missed you, Jimin.”

He hugs you back with equal the comfort and emotion, his strong arms pulling you tightly to him. “I missed you as well.” He pulls away and that’s when you noticed his disheveled state.

“Oh, my goodness. Jimin, did you just come from the train station? Your collar isn’t even straight.” You grasp the edges and aid him in fixing it.

“I apologize for the long trip, but it gave me enough time to think about how I’m going to make up for it.” He smirks lightheartedly.

“Oh, really? How?” You asked curiously, smile creeping up on your face. You finish with his collar and brush your hands down his shoulders and arms to smooth out the wrinkles in his jacket.

“We’re going on a picnic tomorrow at the best place in the East Isles. I’ll pick you up tomorrow from your house around lunch time.” He looks hopeful about the idea, but you can’t help but figure from the confidence he exudes that he already knows you’ll agree.

You bite your lip to prevent from smiling too much like a fool. “Okay! That sounds wonderful. I can’t wait.” You dare yourself and kiss his cheek quickly. You’re about to dash off before he could see your face turn scarlet, but he catches your wrist.

He slides his fingers down to grasp yours before bringing the back of your hand to his lips. They press a soft kiss there. He keeps his eyes on you, and your heart won’t stop fluttering. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he smiled at you in farewell.

You practically skipped to the tea hall.

Once there, you sit with Hwasa at a table with four other finely dressed girls. “Oh, good you’re here y/n. We were just about to start.” She hands you a little stack of cards. All of you begin shuffling and laying out cards onto the table as the game begins.

The red-haired girl dressed in a powdery blue color directly across from you seems smug. Hwasa notices it too. “Something you would like to say Florence?” You remark.

She shrugs her shoulders, but the smirk doesn’t leave her face. “I think I’ll be married by spring.”

“Oh! I suppose congratulations are in order then. Who’s the lucky man?” The petite girl at the end of the table chimes in.

“None other than Park Jimin, of course.” Your blood turns to cold steel in your veins. It takes every effort for you not to reveal too much of yourself. Hwasa stiffens next to you. “What other man is there to marry?” Florence has turned her attention directly to you, eyes flashing with spite. Your eyes narrow only enough that she would notice. What was she going on about? Did she know about the time you were spending with Jimin?

Thankfully, being the well-versed girl Hwasa is in social graces, she merely laughs. “Florence, you are funny. Park Jimin has not committed himself to a woman since he was rumored to be in love with someone almost two years ago.” You felt your head swim. Did Hwasa know about Jimin’s lost love too? She was pretty close with Taehyung, who was close with Jimin. Maybe she only knew the rumor. Regardless, your heated rage turns cold, remembering how devastated Jimin looked talking about her.

“Doesn’t matter,” Florence sneers. “Clearly she is long gone. Or maybe she never existed in the first place. I heard a rumor he was using that as an excuse to get out of his previous arranged marriage anyway.”

Hwasa raises her eyebrows, her gaze scrutinizing. “And now you’re saying you’ve magically brought Park Jimin out of his despair and you two are hopelessly in love?” Hwasa harshly fingered the edges of her cards.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” She replies with bittersweet venom. “Try not to get jealous, Hwasa. I’m sure Taehyung will propose to you when he finally impresses your father with a fortune earned from his artistic talents. Although I don’t know how long that will take. I heard his exhibit caught on fire last month, torching most of his work. A shame he will have to start over…” Your eyes snapped to Hwasa. She hadn’t told you about the fire. Nor did she ever mention just how close her and Taehyung were.

“Florence,” Hwasa tosses her cards on the table, the paper landing with a smack on the polished wood. “I need you to get your head out of your ass for a minute and listen carefully to what I have to say.” You are shocked at her choice of words. Some women at the table behind you glare in Hwasa’s direction, but she ignores them. “Firstly, Taehyung and I are not getting married. We are close friends.” Florence falsely pouts. “Secondly, Taehyung has more talent and grace in his pinky finger than you have in your entire body and then some. So, I suggest you shut that trap of yours before you wake up and find every single one of your father’s department stores foreclosed.” Florence’s face was the perfect cross of fear and royal anger. With that, Hwasa straightens her spine and stands up. “If you are confused about what I said, I hope you figure it out because I won’t be repeating myself.” Her red-painted lips are set in a deep frown, most of her rage having left her. She heads for the door, her shoes clacking loudly from her firm steps on the marble floor. Most of the women in the room have paused their games to watch her leave, some even going as far to disapprove of her sour attitude.

“Poor Hwasa. She’ll die an old maid if she keeps that attitude.” Florence remarks with unrestrained smugness. You are ready to slap her into next week for her treatment of your best friend. It’s time she gets a reality check.

“I don’t think you should be wasting your time worrying about the wrong person,” you say coolly.

She scoffs, “Is that right, y/n? If I shouldn’t be worrying about Hwasa, who should I be worried about?”

“Yourself, obviously. I forgot that you can’t put two and two together. I’ll remember next time to spell it out directly for you.”

“Get to the point,” she hisses.

You lay your cards down and fold your hands neatly on the table. “My point is you’re not marrying Jimin. Not in the spring, not in the year, not in your lifetime.” Florence’s face nearly matches her hair color. “In fact, I dare say Jimin doesn’t even know that you are planning to ask him for his hand.”

“I won’t be the one asking, you stupid girl. By the time I’m done with him, he’ll be begging me to marry him.”

You force a smile. “If you insist. I’ll just give him a fair warning about his eminent doom tomorrow during our picnic date.” Florence’s expression twists into surprise. “Oh, and while we’re on the topic of you, I’ll mention how I accidently walked in on you and—what was his name?” You tap a finger thoughtfully to your chin. “John Withers!” You snap your fingers. “You two were in quite the predicament at his sister’s birthday a few months ago. Petting parties and dancing tongues and all that.” Florence gapes at you like a fish, her face overtaken with terror. The other girls looked at her in shock.

Caught in a lie.

You smirk. Your work here was done. Gathering your purse, you send a wink her way before strutting out of the tea hall. You knew you had hundreds of eyes on you, including your grandmother’s. You know you’re going to owe here an explanation later. Everyone in the room probably heard what you said about you and Jimin, but you could care less. You never had such pleasure in telling someone off.

You find Hwasa standing outside in the hotel courtyard smoking a cigarette. She sees the look on your face as you approach, and she grins wickedly. “What did you do?”

“I may have called her out on her lie and mentioned me spending time with Jimin. You should have been in there. Her face was priceless.”

“That’s my girl,” she takes another drag from her cigarette. “Want one? Special edition tobacco. Tae got them for me in France.”

You consider it, eyeing the delicately arranged rolls in the silver case. “Sure. I think I’ve earned it.” Hwasa laughs, handing you a roll and helping you light it. You feel your body release all the rage and spite with each pull. As you eye the cigarette in your fingers, you can’t help but think about what was said about Hwasa and Taehyung’s relationship. They were awfully close, and you had to admit the idea of them marrying had come across your mind sometimes. You had no idea about Taehyung’s finances or career, or even that his relationship with Hwasa was enough to warrant her father’s attention. You couldn’t help but feel bad for Hwasa; however, at the same time, you knew she’d test her father’s patience to its limits. She’d refuse every single marriage he’d set until he gave up. It didn’t matter if she didn’t marry. She had an older brother who would inherit the family business and take over. You wonder if this was a part of her plan. Even if she and Taehyung didn’t marry, they would be lifelong companions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She said that?” Jimin yells over the vroom of the engine. He throws his head back and laughs. “I’ve never heard such a lie before. I was the one who first caught her and John Withers together. They were having a petting party in the back of his car during a party a few years ago.”

“Really?” You yell back, holding onto your hat. “That’s so disgusting! I’ve seen him before, and he’s so greasy looking.” You make a face of sheer disgust, making Jimin laugh even harder.

“Yeah, he is! But, y/n, are you sure she wasn’t just saying something like that to get a rouse out of you?” He inquires, one hand relaxing on the steering well as he drives. “From what you’ve told me how she acts towards you it seems that way.”

“I have no idea! I really don’t know what the whole point of that conversation was,” you laugh. “Even if she was, I don’t care. I like you a lot Jimin, and I wasn’t about to let some girl try and spread false rumors about you.” You look out the car, trying to hide your blushing cheeks.

“Y/n,” he calls you. You turned your head, looking over your sunglasses at him, with your hand resting against your cheek. You answer with a small hum. Between the road and you, he spent as much time as he could gazing at you. Despite his own pair of dark sunglasses, you could still see joy twinkling in his eyes. “I like you a lot too,” he finally says. It did nothing to slow your racing heart or help you cool down, but you didn’t care. Not with the way he could barely keep his eyes off you.

You bite you lip, barely suppressing a huge smile. You lean back in your seat, gazing up at the blue June sky. It was a perfect day for your picnic with Jimin. Not a cloud in sight. A slight breeze blowing through every now and again to relieve you of the sun’s beating rays. The tall grass fields dotted with white and yellow flowers made soft hushing sounds with the wind.

Soon, you and Jimin arrive at the place he promised was the most beautiful place in the East Isles. And it was beyond beautiful. Jimin opens your door and takes you hand to help you out of the car. He was pleased to see your expression of awe as you took in the scene in front of you.

Flowers of all colors poke through the grass—a luscious green carpet—and lead to a small, crystal clear river. The water flows gently after soft brown rocks and into a pond at the end. Birds chirp, some of them chasing each other in the air before perching on the delicate branches of nearby trees. You think this is heaven.

Jimin grabs a large basket and blanket from the car. You seemed entranced by the scenery, and he giggles at your reaction. He slides his fingers down the back of your hand, breaking you from your trance, and threads them with yours. He leads you further into the grass to a perfect spot partially shaded by foliage. He expertly unfolds a thick blanket onto the grass and unpacks the basket, pulling out plates of all your favorite foods and wine. You kick off your shoes and sit down on the blanket, fixing your skirt to neatly cover your legs.

“I didn’t know what you wanted to eat, so I just had everything made that I know you like,” he smiles sheepishly.

“You must have been taking notes after our meals.”

“That and I feel like I know you well enough that if I had to guess out of these foods is your favorite I could.”

“Really?” You challenge, chewing on some grapes. “Which one then?”

“The cheese Danish,” he states without hesitation.

“Nothing else?”

“No, just the pastry itself. Even if you were in a new place with the most fantastic patisseries in the world, you would always go with a cheese Danish.” He replies with such confidence. He knew you so well.

You smile in delight. “I see your mind-reading skills have improved Park Jimin,” you tease, grabbing the cheese Danish from its plate and taking a huge bite out of it. Jimin laughs at your expression when some of cheese falls out of the pastry due to your aggressive eating and you try to catch it. He hands you a cloth napkin to wipe your hands.

“You’re going to spoil lunch!” he joked. “I have proper lunch dishes to eat before dessert. Glazed salmon with a spring mix salad and raspberry walnut dressing?” he offers.

“Yes please,” you grab the plate excitedly, your mouth watering at the sight of such a delicious looking lunch. You and Jimin eat through the first dish with ease, both admitting to each other that you each had skipped breakfast this morning in order to eat lots of food during your picnic. Then, you finally got to eat your cheese Danish, savoring every bite. After your stomachs were nearly full, you both drank wine, nibbling on an assortment of grapes, cheese and buttery crackers. You and he moved to the bank of the river, letting the water move soothingly over your feet. Conversation flowed with ease, discussing literally about everything that popped into your mind or led from one topic to another. Somehow you had gotten from topics like how you had a green thumb as a child and how you would be upset every time the birds ate the seeds you freshly planted to Jimin helping a man fix his car when in broke in the middle of downtown the other day. The man offered Jimin to take one of the puppies his dog gave birth too recently as a thank you.

“And you didn’t pick one?” You ask, surprised.

He laughs. “No, I said I didn’t need a puppy.”

“What about me? I wanted a puppy,” you deadpan.

Jimin’s face morphs into bewilderment. “You’ve never said to me that you wanted a puppy!”

You giggle at his reaction, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m teasing you, Jimin. I don’t expect you to think of me all the time.”

“But I do think about you all time. I should have picked one.” He rubs a hand over his face in frustration and regret.

“Jimin, it’s okay! I was only giving you a hard time.” You push his hand out of the way from his face and gently brush away the hair that had fallen into his eyes.

He watches your face as you focus on fixing his hair. Then his eyes slide to the hat on your head. He hates how you covered your hair with that ridiculous accessory. He knew about your voluminous curls that were pinned and restrained to the current trend. It made him unhappy.

He pulls your hat from your head and tossed away somewhere in the grass. “Jimin, what are you…” you trail off as he begins to pull the pins from under your hair. Somehow, he knew where each one was, as if he’d done it a million times.

As he removes each pin and your hair falls over your shoulders, he keeps his eyes on your face, gazing into the mesmerizing dark caramel color of your eyes. A blush paints your cheekbones. Slowly, you become your real self—the one that Jimin knew so well, but you had forgotten about.

When the last pin was removed, Jimin smiled lovingly at you. “I like your hair down. You shouldn’t wear it up so much. I love your curly hair. It kind of reminds me of one of the puppies I saw.”

“It had soft curly hair like mine?”

“Yes. The man said they were called Lagotto Romagnolo dogs. Ironically, they’re an Italian breed, but I only found that out after I said to the man, they sounded like a type of pasta dish.” Jimin explains, and you laugh softly. Comfortable silence fell upon the atmosphere. The sun warms your back, and the trickle of the river soothes you into an almost sleepy state. You turn your head and lay it on Jimin’s shoulder.

You sit there like that for several minutes, watching nature go about its day, sipping on your wine. Your wine glass then becomes empty, and you say as much. Jimin said he would get you some more, gently laying a kiss against your hair. Any relaxation you felt from the wine dissipates and your nerves spark. You lift your head up, and Jimin swoops in for a kiss on the cheek. He smiles cleverly, grabbing your wine glass from your hand before getting up to fill it with more wine. You couldn’t help tracking him with your gaze. From your sitting position, you finally get a good view of his body, particularly his backside. It’s a nice backside, you thought to yourself. As if he felt your eyes on him, he glances over his shoulder and totally catches you checking him out. He winks at you, and you shyly shift your gaze to the river.

Suddenly, your head feels so fuzzy. Your mind drifts, like you’re falling into a dream. You rub the heel of your palm against your temple, squeezing your eyes shut. When the sensation passes, you open them again, gazing back into the water.

Then, a dream comes to you, and it’s such a vivid dream.

You and Jimin are in the river, splashing water at each other. He wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you to his naked chest, he spins you in circles in the water.

The sensation in your head turns into a pounding, and you gasp at the pain. You lay your hand against your forehead, your skin feeling hot. You feel your pulse beating against the side of your neck. You twist in your seat, craning to see Jimin. He’s putting the cork back in the bottle. He looks up and smiles sweetly at you.

Another dream flashes before your eyes. You see the bodies of a man and a woman locked in a passionate embrace, kissing and holding tightly to each other. Underneath the woman is a familiar blanket and patch of wildflowers.

Then, it’s gone and so it the pain. Jimin’s face with creased with concern. He jogs over, abandoning the wine glasses. He kneels in front of you. “Y/n, what’s wrong? You look hurt.” He searches your face, your arms, your legs, your torso. But he finds nothing wrong with you.

That was because nothing was wrong.

You were remembering. Everything.

You pull Jimin in for a kiss, and your world bursts into a kaleidoscope of memories.

All of them were so vivid.

Your parents. How your father’s electrical business took flight. The money and the new lifestyle that came with it. Hwasa and the dance clubs. The parties and gatherings for tea. And then Jimin—he was in most of them.

The first time you met him, almost five years ago, similar to the situation months age when you “first met” him at his estate, being presented as new money. Except he never looked away from you when you walked in the room. He looked at you with the gleam in his eye like he does now, as if he’d fallen in love with you right then. And you too had found it difficult to look away. He was so handsome. Dressed in a black suit, with the pants so perfectly fitted that it made his legs look unbelievably long. His hair was styled to expose his beautiful face to the world. It was much darker back then, making his blue-gray eyes even more striking.

You had met him every chance you got. You were both inseparable. He was always so polite and sweet. Then, one night he confessed to you under the moonlight at the architectural park downtown and gave you the best kiss of your life. You secretly met up for picnics and boat rides, soaking in the luxurious things in life together, making happy memories. And you fell deeply in love. You had even gone to this place—the meadow with the crystal river. Jimin insisted taking a swim, immediately stripping down. You were worried someone might catch you, but he owned this land and assured you that no one would disturb you two. You looked away when he removed all his clothes before entering the water, and you insisted Jimin do the same. And he did. You remember the exhilaration thrumming in your bones when you removed the last of your undergarments. Never in your life had you imagined that you would be walking in a meadow and swimming in a river stark naked, much less in front of a man you weren’t married too.

When you got in the water, it was chilly, and you had said as much. Jimin had offered to warm you with a suggestive smirk. You had felt boneless at the thought but decided to tease him instead. You smiled mischievously before splashing him with water. Thus, a water battle ensued, and he ended up capturing you in his arms and tickled you to death. After admitting that you teased him on purpose, he finally stopped tickling you and insisted he just hold you in the water. He wrapped his arms around your waist, and you rested your head on his solid chest. He pulled you around the pond, humming and laying the occasional kiss on your head. You complained that you were getting too cold and hopped out of the water onto the picnic blanket.

You flopped down on your back, smiling up at the sky. Jimin laid down next to you on his side, head propped up on his hand so he could look at you. Water droplets fell from the ends of his dark wet hair and collected on his skin. You turned your head towards him and offered a soft smile. You reached your hand closest to him and brushed it soothingly on his forehead, pushing his hair from his eyes, which were slowly taking in your body. His eyes had grown darker with passion each passing second. Eyes locked on yours, he placed his hand over your heart, feeling the fast racing of it. Jimin saw your expression change, more reflective of his. “Jimin.” Your hand moved to his full lips, stroking the bottom one with the pad of your finger. “Please.” He leaned forward, kissing you passionately. Jimin conveyed his love with every touch.

Your one and only true love.

You feel your soul rush back into your present body, pulling away from Jimin. You were breathless and panting. His eyebrows are scrunched together in worry, eyes bright with fear “Jimin, I remember. I remember everything,” you rush out.

A million emotions flash across his face—happiness, sadness, confusion, fear, joy, pain, relief, but love outshines all of them. Tears form in his eyes that quickly fall down his cheeks. You feel your own tears on your face.

He cups your face in his bands, thumbs wiping away the tears. “What are you feeling? Tell me.” He speaks so softly, and it breaks your heart.

“Everything. I remember everything that I couldn’t from when my father’s company succeeded until now. I can’t explain it. I remembered things. I didn’t feel like I had any gaps in my memory before. It’s like I couldn’t remember that I was missing memories of you, my parents and my friends.

“I… I didn’t just fall down the steps, did I?” You ask. He shakes his head gravely. “I was in a car accident.” And as you explain the details, you see it clearly in your mind’s eye.

You were driving home with parents after a weekend getaway to the coast. Your dad was stressed and needed to get out of the city. After the weekend was over, you were riding in the car with your parents back into the city. Your dad was driving the car over the bridge when another car smashed into your family’s vehicle. Everything happened so quickly, you don’t remember seeing your parents. All you remember was falling so far, so fast and then hitting the ground before blacking out. Then, you woke up in the hospital with your grandmother by your side surrounded by doctors.

“My parents died that night, didn’t they?” Your voice cracks with the question.

Jimin frowns deeply. “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

“I already knew they were dead, but not how they died or when.” Then, you see their faces in your mind. “Mom… Dad…” you sob, covering your mouth to prevent from crying out. The full force of the loss hits you. Jimin quickly situates you into his hold, grounding you while you grieve for your parents.

You remember the family meals and time you spent together; the happiness on dad’s face when the business took off; the times when your parents got on your nerves, and now you wish you hadn’t argued with them so harshly; all the times you had mom-daughter and dad-daughter conversations. It all ended too soon.

You’re not sure how long you cried before you finally calmed down. Jimin was rocking you gently, cheek against the top of your head. The sun had started to go down. Jimin finally speaks, his voice forlorn.

“I went and saw you in the hospital. I heard what happened the next day. I hadn’t seen or heard from you. I called your house so many times, but no one answered. So, I went over there, and your staff had gotten a call from the police. They said your parents had died in the crash. I grieved for them.

“But you had managed to survive. Somehow by some miracle, you landed on a wooden platform not too far below the bridge. I thought they were going to say you fell in the icy water and that they wouldn’t find you. They took you to hospital, and you were unconscious.

“I visited you every day. I brought you your favorite flowers. I held your hand and told you everything I loved about you. And that I wanted you to wake up so badly so I can hear your voice and fully convince myself that you were still here. You didn’t wake up for almost a month. When you did, I was on my way to see you. I heard your voice from down the hallway. I was so excited. Finally, I could hear your voice again and kiss you. But, as I got to the door, the doctors had been explaining your condition to your grandmother.

“You suffered a serious brain injury and had amnesia. They assessed you couldn’t remember what happened in the last two or three years with other long-term memories having been forgotten. They found you could no longer associate emotions with most of your memories anymore. After the doctors left, you had already fallen back asleep. Your grandmother saw me and stopped me at the door. She knew that I had heard everything, and she insisted that I stop visiting. You hadn’t asked for me, and that based on the doctor’s evaluation, it was unlikely you remembered me at all. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I should have been in there, trying to help you remember, but your grandmother forbade it. And, in the end, she was right.

“You had just gone through so much, a lot of it you didn’t remember. You didn’t need me, someone you would have thought was a stranger, to come in and try to convince you that we were in love. It wouldn’t have brought you back. I wanted you to love me, not because I told you, you did, but because you do. I wanted to give you the chance to discover love again. Whether it was with me or not.

“It killed me to see you walk into my house again, several months after the accident, and reintroduce yourself and everyone pretend as if they didn’t know what a wonderful person you are. That day a couple months ago, when I had seen you… It was like seeing you again for the very first time. Then I was reminded I had lost you, but you were still here, not knowing that you still had me in the palm of your hand.” He softly circles his fingertips on your palm. “Besides,” he smiles ruefully, “what would you have done if I came up to you and said I was your fiancé?”

You hiccup from your tears, “Fiancé?”

Jimin swallows thickly, nodding. “Yes. I had proposed to you that Christmas. We were in the sitting room in front of the tree. We were just sitting there. You were looking at the candles and ornaments on the tree, commenting how pretty they were and that you’d want Christmas to be this beautiful and peaceful in your own house one day. When you said that, it made the ring that I had kept in my pocket for weeks feel heavier, and my heart was racing so fast I thought you would have thought something was wrong. But nothing was wrong. I was with the most beautiful, kind, intelligent woman in the world, and I wanted nothing more than to be in the future she was talking about. So, I got down on one knee and asked you, y/n y/l/n, to marry me—to allow me the honor of cherishing you every single day until our last.”

“And I said, ‘Yes, I will marry you.’” You sob, but it’s happy tears.

“And I kissed you and told you I would never leave your side ever, no matter what came our way. I guess I just hadn’t imagined that, that something would come so quick and with so much loss.”

You looked deep into his eyes, soothingly caressing the side of his face. “I’m here now Jimin. And I promise I’ll never leave you again.” You had forgotten the most beautiful moments in life—your memories of your parents, Hwasa, and Jimin—but you didn’t know that you had. And ever so slowly, Jimin was bringing you back to him.

However, despite your promising words, he was holding back something. He got choked up again, fresh tears shining in his eyes. He let out a shuttering breath, “Y/n, there’s something else about those months leading up to the accident.”

You trembled, anxiety lighting every nerve. “What is it?”

He covered your hand on his face with his and wiped at his eyes with his other hand. It took him a few moments to gather himself to say it, and it came as a shock—

“You were pregnant.”

Your world stilled and began to spin. “I was pregnant…” You repeat it quietly to yourself. Your mind spun into the kaleidoscope of memories again. You remember you hadn’t asked for your napkins at the beginning of the new year. You remember telling your mom about your missed cycles and explaining to her that you and Jimin had already been together before. You hadn’t told Jimin yet because you didn’t want to tell him until you saw a doctor and said it was official. And you and she were going to tell your father about it, but he was so stressed when he got home. That was the Friday of the weekend getaway. You both decided that you would tell him together when you got back home on Sunday you when he was in a better mood. Except that never happened.

“The doctor had said you were 12 weeks along. It made sense. After I proposed to you that night, we made love, but we decided not to use protection that time. I was so excited I didn’t think to ask if you were taking a contraceptive medicine. I assumed you were, so I didn’t think about it. You didn’t even show at all during those 12 weeks. The only way the doctors found out was because you miscarried. The trauma from the accident was too much for your body, so the baby…” Jimin couldn’t say it, breaking down into sobs. It was still too much for him to talk about.

And for you. You began to cry as well. “I’m sorry, Jimin that I couldn’t protect our baby.”

Jimin hushed you immediately, looking deep into your eyes. “This wasn’t your fault, y/n. You have to know that and believe that. I would never blame you for what happened. I’m not upset that you didn’t tell me because you weren’t ready to yet. And that’s okay. I mourn our son or daughter every day, and I still love them as much as when I found out they had existed and as if they were here.”

You cried for the loss of your parents and the pain your grandmother felt of losing her son and daughter-in-law. You cried for your unborn baby. You cried for Jimin, who had to hold in everything he knew and felt so you could figure out who you were again. He could have told you he was your fiancé but didn’t because he wanted you to love him and accept his love without controlling your heart.

“I know we’ll never be the same people before the car crash, but that doesn’t matter. I would go to the ends of the Earth for you, y/n. And if that meant we would have to start over and fall in love all over again, I would do it a million and ten times more. I was reminded of things about you that I had forgotten that I shouldn’t have and the little things in the experiences that we have together that made me love you all the more. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jimin. Even when I couldn’t remember anything, I was falling in love with you.” He kisses you passionately, quickly muttering about he waited so long to hear you say those words again. Your faces are warm and wet with tears. You each kiss them away on the other’s face until they are gone. “I don’t have enough words to describe how incredibly patient and loving you are with me. You didn’t deserve to go through all of this.”

“Neither did you. We just know now that our love has conquered all. It has transcended tragedy, doubt, heartbreak and stolen memories. You’re mine, and I’m yours; and I’m never letting you go again.” You kiss each other sweetly, the pain of the past melting away with each press of your lips. Neither him nor you were sure how long you stayed perched in his lap just brushing kisses across each other’s lips and whispering promises.

“You know,” you start, brushing his hair from his eyes, “there’s no way I’m letting you leave me tonight to go to your too-far away house. You’re going to go to sleep with me in my bed tonight, and the night after, and the night after, and—”

He interrupts you with a laugh, his eyes squishing into cute crescent moons. “That sounds like a fine idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After quickly shoving the picnic basket and blanket into the car, you and Jimin drove to house. It was nearly 9 o’clock at night. You had been gone practically the entire day. You wondered if your grandmother was worried.

Thankfully, when you tiptoe through the house, your hand holding Jimin’s, the only person you encounter is Hwasa, who had been staying with you the past couple days ever since she got in a fight with her parents. She sees your intertwined hands and says, “Finally you two confessed your feelings. I was concerned I was going to lose my bet with Tae. Although, y/n, I would keep the noise level down, your grandmother is sleeping—”

You didn’t even give her the chance to finish before you pull her into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you, Hwasa. For being the greatest friend ever.” Hwasa returns the hug. She looks over your shoulder at Jimin, who simply winks at her. Even in the dark of the night, you and Jimin appeared radiant. “We have so much to talk about, Hwasa. But let’s do it tomorrow morning over breakfast.”

She beams at you, finally understanding what was going on. “I’ll be up bright and early. You two get some sleep, and I’ll phone Tae in the morning to bring some extra clothes for your guest. Goodnight, you two.” She exits the corridor, her silk kimono floating behind her like an extra shadow.

Once in your room, you and Jimin collapse on your bed. The only sound was the delicate chorus chirped by the crickets out in the garden by your window. You gaze at each other, listening to the other’s breathing, until you both fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Jimin meet your grandmother and Hwasa in the seating room the next morning. Taehyung had stopped by briefly to drop off Jimin’s clothes. He said he gave the excuse to his parents that Jimin was stayed the night at his house after a much-too-fun game of pool. The staff had laid out extra breakfast and tea per your grandmother’s request. There was a lot that needed to be said before life could move forward.

Your grandmother and Hwasa explain the whole point of the plan they had set when it was discovered you had amnesia. It was very similar to why Jimin agreed to go along with it. It was to let you rediscover yourself and grow into a new person that fit the life that you knew. Nothing would have been more miserable than being told who you were and what you had to do. It was difficult getting the community around you to agree to it, but in the end, most felt awful about the terrible ordeal you’d been through. Everyone loved your parents, who were honest and hardworking, so they decided that if pretending to meet you again for the first time was the best way to help you recover it would be so. Thus, began your new journey.

You talk through the difficulties you had. The emptiness and loss of emotion that came with the “gap” memories your brain had created to lessen the trauma. This world hadn’t felt real to you in most aspects until you had more interaction with your best friends and lover. Even though your head had forgotten your memories with them, your heart had known them. And you were so grateful you had Hwasa, Jimin and Taehyung to anchor you back. You can’t say that you desperately wish to turn back the clock to change the events that happened. Firstly, that would be futile and a waste of energy. Second, although your parents have passed on from this world and entered paradise, you know you will see them again someday. You’re happy that your memories came back and you have those to remember them by.

This whole journey has only grown your love and appreciation for every moment and person in your life.

After many hugs and tears with Hwasa and your grandmother, Jimin politely asks if he could have a moment alone with you. Hwasa walks arm-in-arm with her out of the room, beginning to chat away about Paris. Before leaving, Hwasa looks over her shoulder and smiles at you both. You smile back at her, pink coloring your cheeks.

Jimin stands from his chair and holds his hand out to you. You take it, him helping you to your feet. He gazes at you, seeming focused and determined. You grow a little shy, and giggle. “Quite the morning, right? Probably one of the most eventful breakfasts in my life.”

“Yes, I think so too,” he states, but sounding only half-present. He’s engrossed in memorizing the features of your face, and the brightness that is radiating from you after just rediscovering who you were. He thinks that you only get more beautiful with each passing day.

He presses a kiss to your cheek with plush lips, the softness of it drawing a light gasp from you. His lips move closer to your’s, pressing another kiss to your cheek, but firmer this time. His steady hands come up to hold your waist. You tilt your head towards his, your lips brushing his as they come in for a third kiss. You’ll never get used to this. The passion with which Jimin shows you, even with the most delicate of touches. Your hands slide from his shoulders to around his neck, pulling him closer.

When Jimin breaks the kiss, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you as close as he can. You lay your hand against his, fingers gently stroking through his hair in comfort. It occurs to you for a second that he might not believe that you’re really here, that you remember everything about your love for him. “Jimin, I promise I’ll never go far away again. I’ll stay so close by your side you’ll start to think you’ve got a second shadow.” You whisper to him. He chuckles against your neck. You feel him relax against you, his weight growing heavier in your arms.  Then, he’s letting go of you, sinking to the ground.

To get on one knee.

“I know you won’t, y/n. And I promise I won’t be the only one who thinks they have a second shadow.” He smiles at you endearingly.

You laugh at the turn-around of the joke, but you feel hot tears already prickling at your eyes. Happy tears.

“You’ve already heard most of what I’ve wanted to say for so long, so I’ll keep it short and get to what I’ve really wanted to do since you came back into my life. Y/n… Life had thrown us a huge curveball, but we made it out on the other side. Never did I imagine that when I met you again that I would mess up so badly,” he tells you, and you laugh at the memory. “I was just so in love with you, and I didn’t know how to act around you without wanting to convey my love. And then, you called me rude and refused dinner, and even though you were made, you were so beautiful when you were. Of course, that didn’t help me get my thoughts straight because I was so head over heels for you. Then, the next opportunity came to make it right, and I knew I couldn’t miss my shot to be around you again. I’m so glad I didn’t because I know you’re the only person in this entire world that makes me feel the way you do. And, if you’ll allow me again to honor and cherish you for the rest of eternity…”

He reaches into his pocket to pull out a velvet box, not once taking his eyes off of you. Jimin opens the lid to reveal the diamond ring that once made a home on your left hand. Details of his first proposal to you rush in for a moment. Between that memory and the present, Jimin still looks very nervous, albeit in an endearing way, but wears all of his love for you on his sleeve.

“Will you marry me, y/n?” The tears finally escape his eyes as he asks you for the second time, one of the most beautiful questions in life.

“Yes, Jimin. Always.” You sink to your knees in front of him, hands reaching to pull Jimin in for a passionate kiss. He wraps you against him tightly, dropping the velvet box to the floor. You both kiss for what seems like forever between the two of you until you hear a very Hwasa-like cheer from outside the door. You and Jimin, pull away laughing.

He takes the ring out of the box and slips it on your engagement finger. He marvels at it, “You make this ring ten times more radiant,” he grins cutely, earning another laugh from you. “I’m serious! When I was picking one out, I was concerned that I’d never find one that matched your bright spirit, and then I realized that it was impossible. No diamond or gem will ever shine brighter than you.” He lovingly pinches your cheek.

You pinch his in return. “You’re so cheesy. I love it,” you smile at him and kiss him again. “Let’s get married next week. I don’t want to wait too long. I think we’ve done enough waiting.”

“I couldn’t agree more. I’ve already got the best place in mind for our honeymoon.”

“Really? Where’s that?”

He smiles knowingly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are married on the following Tuesday, only five days after Jimin’s proposal. The news of your marriage had hit the papers the next day, thanks to the Parks who were finally happy to see him finally getting married. Between Mrs. Park and your grandmother, everything from flowers to food and cake to wedding favors was planned to perfection. Hwasa called in every favor from the best dress designers in the city to create the most beautiful gown imaginable. It was very necessary, she explained when you had said you only needed a simple gown. And she was right. Because when you walked out of the church on Jimin’s arm on that bright sunny day in June, you looked like royalty in the photos. Many citizens in the city were excited to finally see a big wedding happen again. They cheered and tossed flower petals when you and Jimin descended the church steps to head to the car for reception.

The next morning, you and Jimin left home together when the sun rose for your honeymoon. You briefly rode to the airport, where you and Jimin boarded a small plane. You asked him repeatedly where he was taking you, but he would simply grin and kiss your hand. He was probably much more excited than you, if that was even possible. You felt as if you’d been on a high for the past week since the proposal. Life couldn’t have been any better.

But, of course, it got even better.

When Jimin said you both had finally arrived, you are pleasantly surprised.

Santa Bella Island.

You’d heard about it before from friends and family. Crystal clear, blue waters with warm, white sand speckled with seashells. Pleasant summer weather that was a tad hot during the peak of the day but left a gentle breeze by the time the sun fell in a cascade of pinks, oranges, and purples. The sunrises were even better.

You stood against the threshold of your private villa, drinking in the morning sun as it started to peek from the ocean’s horizon. You sipped quietly on a cup of tea, letting the sun’s early rays warm your skin. Jimin was still sleeping on the bed, body wrapped around the sheets, which were sufficiently wrinkled from last night’s late activities. You giggled to yourself, fingering the silk of your robe.

It was so perfectly peaceful here. Birds chirped happily as they began their morning songs. The waves lapped softly on the sand. The palm trees swayed with ease. Jimin was snoring softly on the bed, his cheek squished against the pillow and lips parted. You couldn’t believe that you get a whole month of this with your husband.

Husband. You smile to yourself. That will never get old. It brings warmth to your cheeks every time you think about it. You murmur the word to yourself, testing out how it rolls off your tongue. It was so strange to say, yet it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your husband must have heard you. Caught up in the sunrise, you’d only heard soft footfalls against the wood floor that signaled Jimin’s wakefulness. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back to rest against his bare chest. His head rests on your shoulder, tilted to nuzzle against the side of your neck. “Good morning, my lovely wife,” and he places small kisses along there.

“Good morning, my darling husband. Did you sleep well?” Your free hand comes up to stroke his hair.

“I did,” he murmurs against your hair. He reaches over your shoulder to take the cup from you and set it on the table. He wraps both arms around your waist from behind you, fingers massaging your skin through the silk of the robe. “Although, I was hoping I would get the chance to wake you up in a very husband-like kind of way,” he says coyly. You giggle, biting your lip. You hold your left hand closer to your face.

The two white diamond rings—for your engagement and wedding—glitter perfectly in the morning sun. You marvel at the striking beauty of them.

“My forever is with you y/n.” Your husband whispers in your ear.

“You’re my forever Jimin.”

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Living Room Graduation

You’re due to graduate from college, but due to COVID, it was cancelled. Chris, your neighbor, and his brother try to give you a graduation anyway.

-

           You were gutted, to say the least, about your graduation being cancelled. Actually, your entire final semester was cancelled, your parents were stuck with your grandparents in Maine, and you had a huge old house to yourself and you couldn’t even have anyone quarantine with you. So you were at your worst, skipping Google Hangouts classes to re-watch the same TV shows you’d seen four times to binge all of the Lord of the Rings movies (you don’t even like them really, they’re just on Netflix), to sleep for fourteen hours a day, and only leave the house for curbside pickup or your weekly Starbucks run. You were completely and utterly done with life at that point.

           It was around seven when you realized the trash collector was supposed to come in half an hour, so you sprung out of bed, threw on some shorts, and tried to make it. You probably looked like a mess, and it only slightly comforted you when you saw your neighbor, Chris, walking his own trash out in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. He was a sweet guy. He was an actor, he was in some of your favorite movies, and he had the sweetest dog who would sometimes come to your front yard and roll around. His brother, Scott, had been quarantining with him. At least they weren’t alone.

           “You forgot too?” Chris asked across the driveway. You were probably six or seven feet apart.

           “Yeah, my parents usually do this,” you responded. “But they’re stuck in Maine, so I’m here.”

           “Oh, no! Hey, aren’t you supposed to be finishing college? Boston U, right? Is it pre something?”

           “Pre-law,” you responded. You put the trash can down and crossed your arms in the cold, still talking to him. “I’m deferring law school for a year to try and get an internship and pay some of my loans off. I guess you’re not working right now, either?”

           “Nope. I got a series coming out on Apple, but nothing’s filming right now, so Scott and I are just kind of sitting ducks,” he answered. “I gotta go take the dog out for a walk, but you should come over at some point as long as you don’t have coronavirus. We’re good company. And we’d be glad to have you.” You smiled.

           “Thank you,” you said with a smile on your face. “Yeah, it’s freezing, I’m going back inside to put some pants on.” He laughed as you turned and walked across the driveway, bare-footed, until you reached your front door and slipped inside.

           From that March evening, you were a regular at the Evans house. You came over for breakfast, lunch, even dinner sometimes. You and Scott would sit on the couch, Dodger between you, and watch TV for most of the day until you had to tune into class, when you’d run home. As it started warming up, you started using their pool. You missed your family, but Chris and Scott were quickly becoming some of your favorite people. Chris even networked you with one of his lawyers who was helping him with a political website he was coming out with, earning you a remote internship for the summer.

           May came and your spirits were low, despite the fact that you had Chris and Scott all but living with you. You hated the fact that you couldn’t even protest for your classes to be graded so your GPA remained at a 3.89 and wouldn’t round up. You hated that your parents still weren’t home because they were taking care of your grandparents still. You hated being in that big farmhouse, all alone, even though your friends were next door. You hated the fact that you couldn’t do any school traditions or even remotely celebrate your graduation. But you tried to keep yourself occupied, like watching all of the Marvel movies with Scott just to annoy the shit out of Chris.

           “Oh, come on! I don’t look that bad!” Chris defended as you were watching the first Captain America. He was making lunch for the three of you (because you and Scott only wanted to postmates in and Chris insisted on making food), so he was in the kitchen just behind where you and Scott were laughing and commenting.

           “Dude, no one looks good in polyester stars and stripes! Just admit it!” You said to him. He groaned and jokingly shoved you into the couch. “I’m sorry. You just make it so easy to make fun of you.”

           “I could say the same. You weren’t fooling anyone when you put that sweater on while you were tanning outside.” That was right – you had put a sweater on over your bikini the day before when you were at their pool, trying to cover up the fact that you were attending class and tanning at the same time.

           “Oh, that’s different!” You said, walking into the kitchen just to punch him in the side. You’d seen how he worked out and that was definitely the most vulnerable part of him.

           “Hey!”

           “Guys, no roughhousing!” Scott called, not even bothering to look behind you. Your phone chimed, signaling that you had class in ten minutes, and you sighed.

           “Go on and use the office,” Chris said to you, “and I’ll have lunch after.”

           “Thank you,” you replied, grabbing your laptop and running up the stairs to Chris’s office area. He always kept it the cleanest room in the house, but it was filled with pictures of him and his co-stars, pictures of him and his family. Your favorite was a framed picture of Dodger right in front of his computer.

           You logged into class and the Google Hangouts noise started playing loudly. Chris looked up at the ceiling before walking over to Scott, knowing that you were getting ready for class and wouldn’t be back down. He sat down next to his brother and pet the dog who was always at his side.

           “Okay, since her graduation got cancelled, I wanna do something,” Chris said to Scott. “She deserves it. And her parents aren’t even here to see her graduate.”

           “Well, what do you want to do?” Chris sighed, taking his phone from his pocket, and looked up your college’s website. Then he saw the COVID information page, which had plans for graduation on it.

           “It looks like they’re doing a virtual graduation with all of their names and pictures and everything. So maybe we could screen it here, give her a nice brunch and some alcohol, make her feel not so anti-climactic,” he suggested, handing Scott the phone. The graduation was going to be on YouTube, so it was easy to pull up on the TV. And they could lure you over under the guise of something else and surprise you with it.

           “Alright, then, how do you wanna do this? We have to make some excuse to keep her out until that time.”

           “Just… You go with her on a Starbucks run or something after class today. Find a way to make sure it’s the one across town. That’ll give me enough of a chance to make some food and put some stuff up and go over to her house and steal her cap and gown.”

           “Christopher, you are a mastermind,” Scott said. “Remind me never to piss you off while we’re in quarantine. You have time, money, and motive.” Chris chuckled and went back to making lunch, bringing the meat out to the grill while you were still in class.

           Over the next few days, you didn’t suspect anything. You went along with everything, as usual, and Chris was even alone with you as you walked Dodger. He managed to keep it a secret, even though he wanted to burst and tell you that you shouldn’t be sad on your graduation. The week leading up to it, he forced you to use the office space almost every day. He gave you food and coffee, he made you take breaks for your sanity, and he made you get nine hours of sleep every night. Finally, the day before graduation, you burst into the door.

           “Guys!” You said loudly, holding a printed piece of paper. “I contested to get my classes graded instead of pass fail and they did it! I have a 3.9 now!”

           “That’s amazing!” Chris said, walking over to give you a hug.

           “What? That’s awesome!” Scott got up off the couch and hugged you too. Even Dodger looked excited.

           “So now I can actually say I have a 3.9.”

           “Let me see it!” Chris took the paper from your hands, looking at all of your grades. Despite all of the meltdowns and classes you skipped, you managed an A in every single one of them. “I’m so proud of you!” He said, hugging you again.

           “I’m going to go call my parents,” you said.

           “Oh, by the way,” Chris said, grabbing you before you could make it out the door. “Come over tomorrow at 8:30. No questions asked, alright? And wear something cute?” You gave him a look before turning around and leaving.

           “Dude, you basically spoiled it!” Scott said, elbowing his brother.

           “What happened to no roughhousing?” Chris asked. He ran away before Scott could do anything. He had some work to do, if only for you.

           The next morning you showed up at their door at exactly 8:30, carrying a six pack and hoping that whatever they had planned would allow you to get drunk. You’d finally passed out after watching Baccalaureate and the awards ceremonies all by yourself. Your best friend was the valedictorian, too, and you called her to cry about it. But you were up bright and earlier than usual when Scott opened the door and shuffled you in. Red and white was everywhere – they’d pulled out some Christmas decorations that were red garlands, Chris had literally put glitter confetti all over a table, and there was a cookie cake on the table with your name on it.

           You teared up as soon as you saw the cookie cake. You could smell breakfast, too. He’d made you an entire meal, bigger than the usual kind. Both of the boys were wearing red, too, and you beamed. They’d planned you an entire graduation party in their living room because you couldn’t go to yours.

           “What?” You asked. They both just laughed and embraced you in an Evans sandwich.

           “I stole your cap and gown too,” Chris said, “you should really lock your doors when you’re over here for class.” You laughed.

           “Thank you, so much, guys.”

           “It’s the least we can do. We’re proud of you. Come on and get some food and alcohol and we can cry through the ceremony together.” You laughed again and started making the rounds in the kitchen, grabbing a little bit of everything except for some extra bacon, and you let Chris pour you a massive glass full of alcohol for yourself. He brought out your gap and gown and your cords and stoles and made you put them on. The ceremony started at 9, so you weren’t too pressed for time. But you sat down between the two of them, Dodger right on top of you, and watched as your name eventually came on screen. Both boys cheered and nudged you, clinking all of your glasses together.

           “I’m so proud of you,” Chris said, “really.” You leaned into his shoulder and then Scott’s, just grateful that you had them.

           “I’m really glad we took the trash out at the same time,” you said with a sniffle.

           “Oh, don’t cry! Come on, we have alcohol!” Scott said. That just made you laugh.

           “Come on, kid,” Chris said as he messed up your hair. “Let’s get some cake.”

A/N: I’m sorry this is so short but I hope you like it! Congrats to anyone in the Class of 2020!

[bechobbi]

Fortune favours the bold - SamDrake x Reader - (Chapter 6)

Tags: @missdictatorme - @unchartedterritoria - @jodiereedus22 - @aliceriddell-aka-zephyr - @sicparvismagnaforsam - @mooraakath- @uncharted-trash-shar - @tennantmademedoit - @samdrakeftw - @sparrowspt9851 - @reachagalaxy - @irresistiblemonster @original-drake@sw33t-but-psycho @dragonjedihobbit @ellie-drake @fhujami@birdgirl69@mafiahobbit @spaskaalekha @avast-you-dirty-dog @shambhalala@fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @missymysa

Wanna be tagged in/out? Just tell me!

For once, you took a day off "work" and enjoyed the sun and nature that surrounded the motel.

You needed to reflect. You would have liked to accept Sam's proposal immediately, but at the same time you didn't want to endanger anyone else except yourself.

You walked slowly on a dirt path in the small wood in front of the motel. It was a pretty remote place if it weren't for the 24-hour supermarket.

You would have liked to have a plan, you thought, but it wasn't like that at all and you didn't even know where to start. However, you had some information about your evil relatives, they had the money to do everything even make you disappear into thin air.

Part of you was hoping they had forgotten about you after all these years.

Was it really better to leave it to someone else like Sam said?

Small parrots caught your attention. Their feathers were bright green and their noises resounded in the air. They hopped pecking at the ground looking for food a few meters from you. They reminded you of your old house where, in the middle of the large flower garden, there was a fountain where in summer the birds went to cool off.

That memory convinced you even more to want to take everything back even at the cost of risking your life. Then you resumed your march and the parrots soared into the sky as you passed by.

 Meanwhile at the motel Sam was making some phone calls:

“Hey old man, how are you doing? ... Yes, yes, I guess so ... Listen, I have a job that might interest you ... It is an inheritance ... Yes ... But the client has yet to give me a certain answer ... As soon as I know something I'll let you know ... OK, ok ... See you soon. "

He threw the phone on the bed and left the room to get a breath of fresh air. It was not easy to find someone, his bad friendships became fewer with the story of the marriage, he had had to cut many bridges because he wanted to start over.

The man had not remained idle while you were out clearing your train of thoughts, he had investigated you and your family.

Your parents were two patrons, two wealthy people who helped less fortunate kids to study and emerge. They were philanthropists, but also the black sheep of their respective families.

Your relatives, on the other hand, were rich stingy bourgeois and bad-hearted, and certainly did not look favorably on the choices of your mother and father.

Sam had even found a couple of newspaper articles reporting the discovery of two corpses, your parents’, but no mention of you.

The bodies had been found following an anonymous phone call received by the police. Together with them documents attesting to debts and tax fraud were found, which for the lazy and corrupt policemen they represented the motive for the death of the two people.

For them, your father would have killed your mother, after which he would have hang himself. A cliché.

“A big mansion, two rich people found dead in a suspicious circumstance, money, different opinions, corrupt police, a 'daughter' ... Interesting” thought Sam.

The man discovered that your mother had had a daughter, but she disappeared into thin air years later. No other births. The date of birth and your age did not match, so he deduced that you probably must have been adopted. Except that there was no sheet to prove it.

Sam needed to know more about you. So he waited patiently for your return plunging back into the search for more.

 You came back from your walk, you were calmly walking to the room where you had spent the night. The sun was setting. You knocked on the door, but no one answered. You knocked again. Nothing. You decided to forget about manners and try to open the door. It was open.

"Who the hell is it that doesn't lock the door in such remote place like this ?!" you murmured to yourself.

Upon entering you noticed that the room had been rearranged, the bed had clean sheets and your dirty clothes, which you had left on the floor that morning, had been folded and placed on the desk under the window.

There was a scent of cleanliness and everything made you feel a sensation of warmth in your chest.

You entered on tiptoe almost for fear of ruining that order, you crouched on the ground to take off your boots. Once barefoot, you went to bed and sat down waiting for some sign of life, a noise, anything that would tell you where your roommate was.

Then suddenly the door of the bathroom opened making you jump, you saw clothes fly and land on the floor in front of the bed. You thought it best to emit a rattle to signal your presence and if it wasn't for that you would have found the naked figure of Sam in front of you.

The man promptly tied a towel around his waist and when he crossed the threshold of the bathroom he said:

" You're back!"

You were a bit stunned to see him shirtless and from the towel you could get an idea of ​​the man's virility. A shiver ran down your spine. He was a captivating type, there was no doubt.

“Y-yes, I'm back. I-I tried to knock ... "

"Oh yes? I didn't hear" he said, running his hands through his still damp hair "I was taking a shower”.  At the base of his neck, his hair rolled up into more accentuated curls than usual.

"Where have you been?" he asked you taking another towel and passing it over his chest.

It felt like the beginning of a porn movie.

"Ah-um, I took a walk in the woods in front ..." you looked away from him who was now smiling slyly.

"Do you like what you see?" he said.

You blushed and laughed "Idiot, stop it, you make me uncomfortable ..."

He laughed hard as he took clean clothes from a bag in the closet.

"I thought you weren't coming back."

Suddenly a detail struck you, the man's left side showed round scars.

"What are those?" you asked to distract yourself from your obscene thoughts.

"A little memory of Panama, you know I liked it so much that ... well ... I always carry it with me" he chuckled.

You felt the urge to touch those wounds, to understand if they were true or not. Your body moved by itself, you crawled over to Sam and reached out. Your index finger now was brushing those circles of brown and jagged skin. He didn't move, he stayed there giving you his side. You could perceive the diversity of the skin, however soft, and under it the muscles that characterized the figure of the man.

"Did it hurt?" you asked.

"Like hell" he answered in a low voice.

"How did you do?"

At your touch Sam let out a small muffled moan and said "...They shot me."

"... oh ..." you were captured by those jagged circles.

Then suddenly he moved away and said "Now you do understand why you shouldn’t play with weapons?"

"Sorry ..." you said realizing what you just did. You had just touched his weakest points. And he had let you do it.

He smiled putting on a clean white T-shirt, then with jeans and a pair of boxers in his right hand he went to the bathroom to get dressed.

He came out dressed, clean and fragrant.

"I thought we could go get something to eat" he proposed.

Your stomach felt more empty than ever, so you accepted.

 You were walking towards the supermarket, you with your hands in your coat pockets and him smoking.

"You are the first person who decides to help me" you said.

Puffs of white smoke left Sam's lips "Well, if you had told someone what happened to you, maybe they would have helped you."

You weren't convinced then he added  "Surely, if I hadn't found your backpack you wouldn't have told me anything, and you would have just run away like you always have."

He read your mind, so you bit your lip and smirking you said "How do you know this?

Sam looked at you from his height "I put and two together. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. I did these things too. "

"Then don't lecture me" you teased him.

"You're better than me, that's why I'm warning you" he concluded.

 Finally you arrived at the supermarket, crossing the threshold the bell placed at the top of the door rang, signaling the entrance of customers.

"What do you want to eat?" Sam asked.

You just had to put anything under your teeth, so you ordered the attendant behind the bread counter to prepare you some sandwiches to eat on the fly.

During the preparation of what would be your dinner, you took a tour of the supermarket shelves.

Earlier, at the motel, you noticed the now empty bottle of Scotch, so you thought about getting one of the same brand. You grabbed the bottle and went back to Sam.

“I saw that you finished it" you said.

The man gave you a quick glance, then looked into his pockets and counted the money he had left.

"I think we would need a trick to get it" he winked at you and added "See how it’s done!"

With the sandwiches ready and the bottle of liquor you went to the cash desk where the usual swooning and provocative blonde whom Sam already knew was waiting.

"Hi handsome" she said.

"Hi honey, how are you?" Sam answered placing the items on the counter.

She leaned forward as usual to show her breasts "Now that I see you I'm fine"

"I guessed so" the man said letting his eyes wander over her.

"Who is she?" said the blonde pointing at you with her head.

“She is my little sister! We haven't seen each other for a long time, so tonight we wanted to celebrate "

The blonde was loudly chewing a chewing-gum and she was winking at Sam so constantly that she was almost annoying.

"You know..." Sam continued using his mellowest voice "I don't have enough cash with me ... So I thought we could make a trade, honey ..."

She melted like chocolate in the sun.

"What time do you finish, beauty?" Sam said moving closer to her face.

"At 11 pm I finish my shift ..." she said out of breath.

“I'll wait for you outside, what do you think? Me and you... ?" he continued.

She nodded biting her lower lip.

And that was how Sam got the free bottle of Scotch.

On the way to the motel you suddenly turned to the man "Are you really going?"

"Who knows" he replied.

You scrutinized it carefully and after a few minutes of silence you continued "I don't think you will go there"

"And how do you know?" he retorted.

"it's a feeling. You just wanted the bottle of Scotch, you don't give a damn about her "

"Atta girl, I see that we understand each other on the fly. You are impressive ... Furthermore she had floppy tits" he added.

It made you both laugh.

The evening passed quietly between Sam’s stories, time flew. It was a long time since you had such a good time, not to mention the fact that his stories were exciting.

Both of you were bit high from the alcohol and he seemed happier than when you first saw him.

"So?" you said interrupting the speech.

"So what?"

"...Will you help me?" you told him.

"I was waiting for you to ask me... I think so" he replied, lighting a cigarette.

You got up from the bed where you were sitting, you staggered towards him and, while Sam controlled your movements without understanding what you wanted to do, you approached his face. You gave him an intense look that left him breathless, whispered a "Thank you" and stole the cigarette from his hands.

He didn't resist nor react. He stood there motionless contemplating you. After a moment he recovered and laughed out loud "Hey that was mine!" he yelled.

Night fell, Sam slept on the floor to let you sleep in the bed.

 The next day you found breakfast again and Sam was waiting for you to wake up sitting next to you on the bed, his back against the wall.

"Hey ..." he said "it's time to get up ..." he moved the locks of hair in front of your closed eyes.

Slowly you became aware "G-Good morning ..."

"Come on sleepyhead, there's coffee ... and... we have an appointment ..."

You sat down too, while Sam handed you the cup of hot coffee.

"Thank you..."

He smiled at you soflty.

Sipping the drink you asked him for more information about the appointment he had just mentioned.

"What do we have to do?"

"We have to meet a person the will help us."

You were surprised. Now you had two people to rooting for you.

"Oh..."

“Don't worry, you will thank us when done. Come on, go wash your face, he will be here soon. "

Taken by anxiety, you gulped the coffee in a single sip and catapulted to the bathroom to wash and dress.

After the shower you changed your clothes and decided to wear a dress that your mother had given you years ago.

Once out of the bathroom Sam couldn't help but notice a new side of you, a more feminine side that you apparently tended to hide.

He whistled at you and said "How cute we are"

You blush saying "My mother gave it to me years ago, I think it's the right time to wear it"

He looked at you from head to toe, made a grimace of approval and added "It fits you divinely."

You blushed again.

The magic moment was interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

"Here he is!" Sam nimbly jumped out of bed to open the door.

A middle-aged man with white hair and a bright look was out there.

“Hey Victor! Long time no see!"

"Hi Sam!"

The two hugged and patted each other on the back while you waited for introductions.

"So, Samuel Drake, will you let me in?" said the older man.

"You're welcome" replied the younger one and clearing his throat added "Ahem, this is the disinherited princess", he put both hands on your shoulders "She is Y / N  Y / L / N"

"Hello ..." you held out your hand.

"My pleasre Miss, I'm Victor" he shook your hand. His grip was as strong and firm as Sam's, and from that detail you felt you could trust him too.

Sully took a seat in the chair in the room and you and Sam took place on the edge of the bed.

"So, where do we start?" Victor asked.

Sam waved at you to invite you to speak.

You were so uncomfortable having to tell about your misadventure that you were torturing your fingernails.

Sam noticed your discomfort, so he took one of your hands in his and squeezed them tightly to give you courage. With a smile he gave you another nod and pointing to Sully he said “You can rest assured. Victor and I have known each other for a lifetime, he is a person you can trust, just like me. "

The older man then spoke up and began "I did a lot of research on your family. And you ... you don't appear anywhere. To help you, we need as much details as possible. You can trust me, I give you my word" he concluded putting a hand on his heart.

You held your breath for a couple of seconds, then let yourself go.

“Ok ... I can do it ... I was taken into the house by Mrs. and Mr. Y / L / N when I was about 4 years old. I was part of one of the groups that they followed and to which they gave financial aid to study. Like me, many of my companions had no parents, however, among many, they decided to keep me by their side as if I were their daughter. Only later I understood why: I resembled their missing daughter. Similar eyes, similar attitudes. I heard rumors about this missing daughter of theirs, she wasn't dead, just one day she vanished into thin air. Not being able to have other children, the Lady taught me to call them mom and dad. I grew up with them, studied with them every day of my life. I lacked nothing and I was happy. "

The two men were attentive to every single word that came from your lips. Serious and silent. Occasionally Sam stroked your hands with his thumb and that comforting feeling made you feel good.

“Then one day… I was playing hide and seek with a partner of mine and… I happened to witness an argument between my parents and one of my father's brothers. He brought misfortune, I felt it ... I had never seen my father so agitated ... but at the same time he was determined to continue on his path. "

A tear ran down your face. You stopped your story for a moment as Sam's grip tightened. That gesture moved you and spurred you to go on.

“My father's brother used to say that my parents were doing something wrong and that they should think before doing such a stupid thing. I didn't understand what they were talking about ... I remained hidden listening all the time. Until at a certain point everything was clear: my parents had decided to adopt me and make me the only heir to their inheritance. My relatives, on the other hand, wanted the inheritance for themselves. But my father and my mother had already begun the procedures to adopt me. "

At the word inheritance Sam and Victor threw a knowing look at each other while you continued to unravel the facts.

"My parents ... wanted to remove all their family members from the inheritance because they were people who used the money only for their own purposes, while mom and dad invested in the less fortunate generations ... So to get the inheritance they would have to eliminate me. "

You grasoed Sam's hand and continued in a low voice "... Until one day I’ve found my father hanged and my mother motionless on the ground ..."

Sam interrupted "...Did you do the anonymous phone call?"

You nodded in tears "Yes ... Yes ... It was me who found them ... I felt the world collapse, so I did the wisest thing to do at that moment: run away. It wasn't easy, they tried to track me down, I had a fight with my father's brother, I shot him in the leg as a result of his assault, luckily I didn't end up in prison ... then I finally ran away and they didn't come looking for me anymore. .. "

Sully pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, took one and lit it. He had to ease the tension of the moment. He took a puff of smoke and asked "How long have you been on the run?"

You looked up at him "About 10 years ..."

"Man..." Sam commented.

You dried another tear.

"Could you give us some information about your relatives or about this uncle of yours?" Victor asked.

"He is the most dangerous, the others are simply inepts, but him ... he is a true son of a bitch."

"I learned that he is a drug dealer" added the elderly man.

"Among the many things ..." you commented.

"... and it seems that he has some kind of bodyguard" concluded Victor turning to Sam.

Sam gave him a questioning look.

You looked at them with horror in the eyes and tearing your hand from those of the younger man you burst into a desperate cry "I'll never make it ..."

Sam wrapped you in his arms and you let yourself go to a convulsive cry.

The two men were now looking into each other's eyes. Then Victor said "The bodyguard is only one"

Upon hearing those words Sam felt relieved, but his attitude soon changed when the other man added:

"... she's a woman".

Sam shivered, his guts twitched, his sixth sense was telling him that if Victor had specified such a trifle it meant that in reality it was not at all, but it was a fundamental detail.

"... Do you believe that ...?"

Sully nodded.

"Fuck ..." Sam murmured bringing a hand to his face while he squeezed you with the other.

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

*SHORT SERIES

Member: Juyeon

Genre: a pinch of *TW depression/rape/abuse (not from juyeon, don’t worry)

A/N: I contemplated writing this for Seonghwa but idk i just didn’t see fit while i wrote this. and no, there will not be any crying in the club, i’m riding on the notion where you need to get over shitty times and it’s not worth crying about it 

you were shaking your head and swallowing large gulps of air, trying to get the burp in your stomach out through your throat. you could feel the slight burn in your chest from the cider you had earlier. you pull up your phone with the music blasting loudly in your ears, the clock ticking on the screen as the large, digitalised numbers shining brightly in your eyes. 

1.24am

“ah fuck... shouldn’t have stayed at the bar so late. why does school even have a bar? shit shouldn’t be allowed--” you grumble under your breath, smelling the sweet scent of the cider escaping your mouth. you burp, but you couldn’t hear it over the music in your ears. 

you look up and see your dorm building barely a five minute walk away, the only light illuminating the path you were on were the lights from the nearby faculty buildings in the area. if this wasn’t a university campus, you’d be scared shitless to even walk here. 

you walk mindlessly, only wanting to get back to your room, take a bath and knock out after a day of relentless working on your few, but tiring projects. your eyes notice a familiar figure walking across the road just about tens of metres ahead of you in your path, and you weren’t sure who it was until he started walking in your direction. 

you were pretty certain it was just someone you’ve seen around in school before, but he walks up to you and doesn’t hesitate to drape his arm over your shoulder. for a moment, you wonder if it was the cider that led your mind to play tricks on you, but you register his face under the bad lighting, immediately drawing a frown on your forehead and pulling out your earpiece to protest the action.

“what the he--”

“yah, where have you been? i thought you said you wanted to go back to your room early today?”

confusion was written all over your face, and you couldn’t choose between freaking out over the fact that someone you weren’t familiar with talk to you like you were friends, or over the fact that it was lee juyeon. 

“anni...” juyeon pulls out his phone from his right pocket, openly searching for your contact that he didn’t save, and struggles a little while typing in a message. “you said you’ll check your text messages every now and then, how was i supposed to know that you were going to go MIA?” he looks at you through the corner of his eyes, hitting send. you feel the vibration in the hand you were holding your phone with. 

there’s someone following you.

“anyway, how was your day? managed to finish whatever you needed to get done?” juyeon slips the phone back into his pocket, probably picking up on the panic that was filling your chest and your gut. 

your mind blacks out for a moment, and suddenly, a billion thoughts filled your head.

the person who was following you. there was only one person you could think of: your ex-boyfriend. things got ugly when you said you wanted to break up last year. not only did he threaten to commit suicide, but he tried to extort money from you in a bid to keep you by his side. you could never forget how he tried to make you pay him to keep your intimate secrets away from your friends and family. 

“i’ll watch you from a corner”, he said. 

‘traumatised’ might not even be the best word to use. but right now, you were scared. 

then there’s lee juyeon. it’s not that you hated him or anything. both of you knew each other, especially after you confessed to him about a month ago. not because you wanted a relationship with him, but because the knowledge that you had feelings for a boy you barely had any contact with was eating you out. you couldn’t help but to be honest with yourself, to be honest with him, and confess, for the sole reason of getting it off your chest. 

you promised him you didn’t want anything and all you wanted to do was to be honest with your feelings. 

him being arguably one of the most popular seniors who stayed in the same dorm as you didn’t really help your case of confession. 

luckily, you found out that he told only one person: hyunjae. 

after that, you never bothered to contact him again. all you wanted was for the feelings to go away as quickly as they came. 

“are you alright? you seem burnt out,” juyeon’s voice snaps you back to reality, watching you zone out and noticing that your grip on your bag straps were now tighter. your knuckles were white and the flesh on your palms were turning red from the harsh hold. 

“i’m... i’m okay.”

juyeon senses your discomfort and anxiety now that you knew someone was following you. he tilts his head subtly, noting that the stalker was still about twenty metres away from the both of you. 

juyeon continues talking and chatting like you were best friends, giving you small taps on your shoulder to encourage you to reply. his facade doesn’t falter once the entire walk to the dorm buildings, and even then, your stalker was still within sight. 

the both of you were finally at the lift lobby, where you hoped to see the security guard, but your dorm was known for having shitty security, so it wasn’t surprising to see the post empty. 

juyeon hits the button of the lift, never once lifting his arm from your shoulder. you look at him stare at the metallic lift doors while waiting for it to arrive, realising that he was observing your stalker’s reflection in the surface of the doors. he was standing barely ten metres away from the entrance of the lift lobby outside the building. 

“he’s not going to leave if i let you go up on your own.”

had he said that any lower or softer, you wouldn’t have heard it.

“i know we aren’t close, but please trust me.”

you gulp, knowing that blood was rushing away from your face and you were on the edge of passing out. your heart was racing in your chest, and you were just about on the verge of having a whole panic attack. if juyeon wasn’t here, you’d be crying by now. 

“i know it’s unfair, but please trust me,” juyeon says again, now slightly louder to ensure you heard him. you look down at your feet, trying to pull your attention away from your anxiety and the stalker while the lift arrives. 

juyeon pulls you in and turns you around so he would be looking over your head and outside the lift. you were watching your stalker in the reflection off the mirror in the lift when juyeon wraps an arm around your shoulder and uses the other to tilt your chin upwards after pressing the button for the sixth floor. 

you hear the gears of the lift doors churn, but juyeon leans forward and gives you a solid, firm kiss on your lips. your eyes remain wide open, but juyeon’s fluttered shut upon the contact. 

your eyes catch a glimpse of your stalker taking two large steps towards the lift lobby just as the doors seal shut. maybe it was juyeon’s facade and confidence that rubbed off on you, but a surge of anger and frustration motivates you to wrap your arms around juyeon’s shoulder, pulling him in closer to seal the kiss. 

you feel the lift start to move upwards, and you pull away without hesitation, using your fingers to wipe the saliva off the corners of your lips. you look away, unsure if you were embarrassed, or that the alcohol from the cider was making your face burn. 

“sorry,” juyeon licks his lips and wipes them with his finger too. “doubt he’ll be scared away if we didn’t do anything.”

“no, it’s... fine,” you stare at your feet, taking deep, large breaths to calm your breathing. you didn’t even notice how hard you were breathing until you started calming yourself. 

“are you alright? you look like you were on the verge of an anxiety attack,” juyeon sniffles, turning and leaning against the wall of the lift as if the two of you didn’t just kiss for show. 

“i was,” you huffed, pulling your bag around to the front and taking out your room key. “but thanks. i wouldn’t have known if you didn’t tell me.”

juyeon rubs an eye and watches as the lift comes to a stop on the sixth floor. he follows you out, and it triggers you to turn around, the anxiety still in your gut not making you the best person you are. 

“i’m fine now, just go.”

juyeon’s eyes widened a little, and frankly. he looked a little hurt. but that look of anguish quickly dissipates, and you wonder why he hasn’t nagged at you for being an ungrateful little bitch despite him helping you. 

“i’ll see you to your room and i’ll be camping on this floor for awhile,” he stuffs his hands into his pockets. “i don’t trust that your stalker’s gone. he’s probably just waiting for me to leave before he comes up to find you.”

you freeze, though you already weren’t moving. 

he was right.

knowing your ex-boyfriend, he was probably still downstairs, staring up at the sixth floor, waiting for juyeon to leave the building before he came up to look for you. the thought sends chills down your spine and your head to feel light-weighted. 

you hear some movements, but it wasn’t from juyeon because he wasn’t moving, and soon, you hear someone coming from behind you.

“oh? why are you-- why are you both--”

“anniya, she’s just got some notes for me, that’s all. she took a module last semester and i’m taking it now, so she’s just lending me some of her material,” juyeon walks past you and grabs hyunjae’s hand to pull him in and bump shoulders. you turn to see hyunjae with his girlfriend, who happened to be your neighbour. she smiles at you, hand in hyunjae’s.

they were probably heading to hyunjae’s room. 

“ah, arra~” hyunjae hums, giving you a bright smile as he lets juyeon go. the younger male turns to you, walking to your room and looking back at you, cuing you to follow him.

you get the door open and you nearly fall into it. your heart, though not racing anymore, was still pounding against your chest mercilessly. you dump your bag in the chair at your table, sinking down to the floor and letting your emotions eat you whole. 

you shut all your senses out while you curl up into a ball while sitting on the floor. you let your emotions and memories override you like a virus taking over a computer, and you could feel your lungs collapsing in on themselves. 

you hear nothing from juyeon, but you felt someone pat your shoulders gently and you hear him shuffle around, the friction of his pants against each other rustling as he sat down next to you. 

it didn’t matter that the boy you had feelings for was here in your room with you. you were never interested in developing a relationship with him, so this was nothing compared to what your ex-boyfriend has done to your memory and your faith in love. 

juyeon tries to unwrap you, but fails. you could feel the hot tears taking over your eye sockets and your feet starting to turn numb at the awkward position. 

“yah...” you hear juyeon call out to you, his hands still gently searching your arms and body for a way to untangle you from yourself. “it’s going to be okay. he’s not going to show up as long as he knows i’m still here, arra?”

you shake your head relentlessly, your tears finally spilling over your lids and drizzling down your cheeks. you hear juyeon sigh, and with more force now, he pulls you open. 

you fall towards your left, into juyeon’s torso as he cradles you like a baby. you tried your best not to crumble into a billion pieces, but the thought of your ex-boyfriend’s face was enough to shove you over the edge. 

“uljima,” juyeon coos into your ear, arms carefully wrapped around your shoulders and not anywhere inappropriate. you grit your teeth, completely ignoring his words as you let it all out. never have you once broken down over your ex-boyfriend in front of anybody, and you definitely didn’t expect the first person to be juyeon, someone whom you desperately wanted to avoid to prevent any awkward situations. 

you didn’t know if you blacked out from crying too hard, or the anxiety that was slowly shutting your mind off, but you wake up to a dark room, with only one source of light turned on. your swollen eyes take some time to adjust, but you see now that you were on your bed, and juyeon was at your table scrolling on his phone. 

you struggle to sit up, wondering how in the world you felt physically incapable of supporting yourself. juyeon responds to your movements, and rushes over to the space next to your bed with your water bottle. 

“drink up. your throat must feel like the sahara dessert now.”

you take the bottle and finish whatever that was left in it.

“what time is it?” you rub your eyes as juyeon locks his phone and shoves into his back pocket. 

“3.23am.”

you groan and physically face palm yourself. 

“you better head back to your room, he must’ve been gone by now.”

juyeon sighs, taking the bottle and sitting on the floor next to your bed. you look at him, too tired to make your confusion show, but you still stare at him hoping that he could see all the imaginary question marks floating above your head. 

“i’m not going anywhere after seeing you break down like that. i’ve got no morning classes tomorrow, so i’ll stay with you until you wake up,” juyeon brings his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on his right knee, looking up at you with tired eyes. 

you scratch your head, trying to stifle a yawn as the exhaustion hits you again. 

“go back to sleep. you’ll be fine as long as i’m here, i promise.”

juyeon nods backwards to your pillow, encouraging you to fall back into the mattress and shut your tired, swollen eyes. 

lee juyeon. you’re really something, huh?

Part 2: Give Your Heart A Break

[iamnotawomanimagod]

The 100 for the indepth ask thing!

Thank you, my friend!! Always happy to hear from you 🥰

Top 5 favourite characters:

1. Octavia

2. Murphy

3. Emori

4. Echo

5. Jasper

Other characters you like:

I will always have a lot of love in my heart for Monty, Raven, Lincoln, and Lexa. 

Least favourite characters:

Clarke, Bellamy, Kane, and Abby.  

OTPs: 

Linctavia and Memori 

NoTPs: 

Bellarke, Kabby, a handful of others that are more “meh” than outright “no.” 

Favourite friendships:

Jasper and Monty; Raven and Emori; Monty and Bellamy; Octavia, Jasper, and Monty; Indra and Octavia; Clarke and Roan; Raven and Echo. 

Favourite family: 

Spacekru! Forever! Although the Diyoza-Blakes give them a run for their money.

Favourite episodes: 

I’m a sucker for good standalones, even when the rest of the season sucks, or the episodes don’t make much thematic sense in context of the season/show. Fair warning. That being said: 

1x05, 1x08, 2x08, 2x12, 3x04, 4x07, 4x08, 4x10, 4x13*, 5x02, 5x11, and uhhh that’s when the show ended right**??

*For someone who hates s4, I sure do like a lot of individual episodes from it.

**There were storylines and moments I liked in s6 and s7, but no one episode stands out for me in either season.

Favourite season/book/movie:

Probably s2 or s5.

Favourite quotes:

Pretty much all the Trigedasleng lol.

“Yu gonplei ste odon.”

“Gomon gon oson.”

“Jus drein, jus daun.”

What a fun and silly conlang. 

Best musical moment:

I really love this moment, where Raven takes The Chip, and “Thousand Eyes” by Of Mouse and Men plays. Lindsey does such an incredible job portraying Raven’s sorrow, pain, and desperation. It’s so chilling when the music picks up and gets louder, and Raven slowly realizes that her pain is gone, and she looks up and sees ALIE for the first time. We as an audience realize how dangerous Raven will be, on ALIE’s side, but all Raven feels is wonder and relief. I think the song really captures that feeling so well, and the lyrics reflect Raven’s motivation: “I lie awake, and watch it all/it feels like a thousand eyes.” She’s under so much pressure, mostly internal, but also external, to help her friends and make sure people she cares about survives. I love this song and I’ll always associate it with this moment.

Moment that made you fangirl/boy the hardest:

 “You are wonkru, or you are the enemy of wonkru. Choose.”

Roan versus Lexa

Royal Memori Saving Everyone

When it really disappointed you:

Season 6. With the exceptions of Memori and my affection for Josephine, the season was a total flop for me. Season 7 just continued the downward spiral at an even faster rate. A few bright spots, but overall, just garbage. 

Saddest moment:

Woof. There’s several.

1. Lexa’s death, obvi

2. Jasper’s death

3. Lincoln’s death

4. Monty and Harper’s farewell videos

5. Emori’s death (only so low on the list because she came back) 

Most well done character death:

I got a lot of satisfaction out of Cage Wallace’s death. Lincoln deserved that vengeance.

In terms of emotional impact, I do think Jasper and Lexa’s death scenes were very well-done.

I know it’s messed up and I’m probably wrong, but god if I don’t love seeing Pike get run through with that sword.

Favourite guest star:

Alycia Debnam Carey put this show on the fucking map, and no one can truly argue otherwise. Without her, I doubt this show would’ve gone on for as long as it did. The show was carried by appearances and mentions of her right up until the very end. She even got the last word. Tell me of a more iconic guest star?? 

Favourite cast member:

I definitely really like Richard Harmon and Luisa d’Oliveria. I think they have the greatest chances of having truly successful careers out of everyone. 

Character you wish was still alive:

Jasper. :( 

One thing you hope really happens:

Well, it’s over. So nothing is going to happen again. I like the idea of some other pocket of humanity that decided not to transcend stumbling upon the Beachkru several years post-canon. And the aliens conveniently forget to actually make that sterile thing real. Humanity lives in, cultures continue to develop and grow, and there are lots of new generations to come! AKA the thing I wanted all along and really hoped they’d do, but they just kept destroying every society they met!!

Most shocking twist:

Finn’s death was really, truly so shocking to me. For one, Lexa’s death so greatly overshadowed it in fandom (at the time) that I managed to see it completely unspoiled. I also wasn’t into the BTS stuff at the time, so I didn’t know about any drama. It took me fully by surprise - I never expected the show to really kill another lead like that. 

When did you start watching/reading?:

It took me several tries to start this show. Getting through those first four episodes was a tough ask for me. By the time I finished what was available, s3 was over. So I technically joined fandom during the hiatus between s3 and s4.  

Best animal/creature:

God the animals in this show were silly. I liked those weird panther things.

Favourite location:

The dropship, Memori’s palace, Becca’s lab. 

Trope you wish they would stop using:

Listen. I loved the callbacks at first. I fucking ate them up. But at some point, this show became so self-referential that new plotlines ceased to exist. It became almost comical. How many times did these characters need to learn these lessons??

One thing this show/book/film does better than others:

The early camaraderie of The Hundred, and the way they worked sort of against the Establishment/Adults, was a lot of fun. Other shows have done it, but I think The 100 does it very well.

Funniest moments:

Unintentionally or intentionally, lmao?? Idk, there were a lot of quippy moments. Most of what Murphy said was hilarious.

Couple you would like to see:

I always wanted them to give Niytavia a shot, but they were cowards. 

Actor/Actress you want to join the cast:

I’m not super attached to any actors or actresses that would fit on this show. 

Favourite outfit:

Blodreina’s red cape, Emori’s royal Naming Day ‘fit, Murphy’s sleek black formal looks, Clarke’s soda can tab jacket, Raven’s red bomber jacket.

Favourite item:

When Clarke picks up a piece of Lexa’s throne and uses it as a walking stick when she’s alone post Praimfaya 2.0

Do you own anything related to this show/book/film?:

Nah.

What house/team/group/friendship group/family/race etc would you be in?:

I mean, I feel like Spacekru is the most obvious choice.

Most boring plotline:

When they spent several episodes rescuing Clarke from Josephine. Most of s4. The back half of s3. Most of s7.

Most laughably bad moment:

When Bellamy brought Clarke back to life by repeatedly punching her in the chest, and inside of her mind, Clarke threw an axe at Josephine’s face and Josie exploded into a bunch of shards of light.

When Clarke shot Bellamy over Madi’s sketchbook and left the sketchbook behind.

When Clarke and Bellamy took turns tying each other up and putting the people most important to one another in horrible situations and it was treated like a cute little bump in their timeless friendship. 

Best flashback/flashfoward if any:

I really love the Spacewalker reveal.

Most layered character:

Murphy came so far, and had so much development. I think Richard did a great job giving him a lot of depth and dimension. 

Most one dimensional character:

Clarke’s entire personality and arc didn’t change at all after the s2 finale. She was a loose cannon hell-bent on saving the people she loved, no matter what the cost. The most interesting things that happened to her were almost dying and actually dying, and the main reason for that is because it gave other characters and storylines more time to shine.

Scariest moment:

That fucking creepy cage creature on Nakara that attacked Raven’s face. Seeing it through the helmet was so terrifying. Another one is that scene in s2 when Lincoln is a reaper, and Octavia and Bellamy are trying to lure him into a trap in an old parking garage.

Grossest moment:

This show was remarkably gory for its network and time slot. I can think of several. I’d rather not dwell on them. 

Best looking male:

Lincoln is a babe.

Best looking female:

Gotta hand this one to Lexa

Who you’re crushing on (if any):

I mean, most of them. Half of why I watched was pure thirst. Emori, Murphy, Lexa, and Octavia all come to mind. Diyoza, too.

Favourite cast moment:

Idk I’m always partial to blooper reels.

Favourite transportation:

HELIOS. The most beautiful badass horse in the world. 

Most beautiful scene (scenery/shot wise):

I mean, most of the overhead shots are really pretty, but it’s also the same five locations in Vancouver, and that really starts to show at some point.

Unanswered question/continuity issue/plot error that bugs you:

I genuinely think we don’t have time for this. I have way too many to count. 

Best promo:

Nothing really comes to mind.

At what point did you fall in love with this show/book:

I was convinced to stick it out and see it through by 1x05. I truly thought it was something special by 2x08. I’ve gone up and down about it ever since.

Thanks again, Meghan!

Send Me a Fandom and I’ll Answer Some In-Depth Questions!

[springday-aus]

SVT’s Dino: Just Another Foodie Call

—

Fic Piece Written By: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus

Main Characters: Y/N [fem. reader] and Seventeen’s Dino [Lee Chan]

Other Characters: Seventeen members [Minghao, Seungkwan, Vernon], oddball dates [multi-group + multi-members: ATEEZ’s Hongjoong, GOT7′s Bambam, and NCT’s Jungwoo], and Yeri (Red Velvet)

Genre: romance, comedy, college!au, waiter!Chan

Type: one-shot writing piece

Word Count: approx. 6.5k

Plot Summary: first dates are always awkward, but not for you. In fact, you actually became a master of them. But, what are all of these dates for? Easy answer: free food. Now that you think about it, there’s only one other person who seems to know your real motives—Chan, a waiter from your favorite restaurant. 

“—so, the best time to buy stocks is once a pandemic hits.” 

“Hmmm…” You nod along, as your date continues to ramble on and on about business. You make an effort to maintain some eye contact, in order to seem as if you were engaged in the conversation. In reality, you were wondering how far along they were making your food. Usually, they would be platting at this moment, but it is a Saturday—meaning the dinner rush was just getting started. 

“At that time, they’re lower, therefore cheaper.”

You continue to hum, not really listening to what he says, but trying to seem attentive to his words. You try to remember: look a bit interested in conversation and that’s enough to keep a guy’s attention. You glance up at him, taking in how animated he is as he talks. 

But, then again, he seems to be able to maintain this conversation on his own. 

You find yourself thinking: what was his name again? You glance down to the table, where his unofficial business card lays. Ah, right—Hongjoong. He’s a year above you. Business major, obviously something you picked up from the conversation alone. On the bright side, you didn’t have to worry about when you ran into him in the future. 

Just as he’s diving in further about the importance of stocks and investments, the entree plates finally come out and are set in front of the both of you. You mouth a thank-you to the waiter, who gives you a polite smile in return. 

Hongjoong continues to talk. “Then, as things become back to normal, the rates start to go back up and you get more than what you originally paid for. The only issue is time and how long it—” 

Jesus, these noodles look so beautiful covered in the sauce. Only God knows what the hell is in it, but it’s delicious nevertheless. The toppings are equal in distribution and the garnish looks perfect, as if the peak of the flavor mountain in front of you. Yes. This. This is why you are here. 

For a moment, you think you could cry. You’ve been waiting all week for these noodles. You take a glance at Hongjoong, who continues to ramble on and on about... savings? Did he move on from the other thing? Or was it bonds? Honestly, you’d stopped paying attention after he started promoting about the benefits of a savings account to you. 

In your category of first dates, you’d put Hongjoong in the chatterbox section, which means you can catch a break from these weekly dates. Yeah, he’s boring, but he’s a super nice guy—from what you can tell, you know he’ll pay for the meal. You almost feel bad about using him. Almost. 

Lifting your fork, you twirl a good amount of the noodles and drown it further into the sauce on the plate. Yes, come to mama. You carefully lift the fork to your mouth, trying not to shove it into your mouth like some goddamned animal. Once that first bite hits, you almost melt on the spot. God, that really makes the wait worth it. 

The night continues on and Hongjoong, eventually, starts to eat—after he asks your opinion on how to survive an economic crisis. Frankly, you can’t remember much to what happened on the date so far. You must have tuned out more than you originally thought. But, then again, when do you ever remember what happens on these dates? Except for a special case, a guy named Cameron (aka, he who shall not be named), every other guy tends to be forgotten about. 

As normal, you clear your plate—it’s clean of your food and you sigh with content. Your cravings have been satisfied. You wait for Hongjoong to finish eating, chatting him up to give some type of entertainment for the dinner. You use as much small talk as you can, from the weather updates to the different types of food served here. 

Near the end of the meal, as he finishes his plate, you smile up at him as politely as you can. “Shall we get the check and head out?” 

He returns the smile with one of his own. “Yes, that sounds good. It’s—” He checks his watch. “—about 6:30, which means the traffic shouldn’t be as bad right now. I can accompany you back to your apartment.” 

He calls over the waiter, asking for the bill. Once it’s laid on the table, you slowly grab your purse and reach for your wallet, but you don’t really get a grip on your card to actually pay. 

“No need (Y/N),” he says. “I got it.” 

You give another smile, which seems more genuine than any other smile you’ve had tonight. Trying to hide your satisfaction, you furrow your eyebrows to feign concern. “Are you sure, Hongjoong?” 

“Of course,” he says. “Women can pay, but it doesn’t mean they should.” He lays his shiny card on the black tray. “Especially on a first date.” 

He gives another smile with his pearly whites and you have to hold back a smirk. 

Men are idiots. 

The sun shines particularly bright this morning. Now that you’re out, you regret making plans before noon. You open the door to the familiar campus cafe, retreating to your usual corner—where Minghao and Seungkwan are waiting for you. 

You take a seat in front of them, ungracefully throwing your bag onto the empty seat next to you. Without a word, you slowly place your head onto the table and into your arms. The two put a halt to their conversation, noting your negative aura. Seungkwan pushes the iced latte towards you—not close enough, in fear of you knocking it over. 

Minghao takes an unnecessarily long sip of his iced americano before speaking. “So, how’d the Saturday night date go?” he asks. 

Seungkwan nods along and uses his spoon to cut a part of his strawberry cake. “Oh yeah, what was he like? Did you have fun?” 

You lift your head and lean against your chair, feeling a migraine start to form from the subject alone. “He was fine. He was just… more boring than I anticipated.” 

“So, no second date?” Minghao asks. 

“Most likely.” 

“Dude,” Seungkwan says. “When has there ever been a second date for (Y/N)?” He sets down the spoon on his plate—looking at you now. “How many dates have you been on now?” 

“Enough.” You take a sip of your coffee. “Stop calling me out like this. Y’all are lucky I came.” 

Seungkwan scoffs at your statement, going back into his cake. 

“We knew you would be easily lured out by free coffee,” Minghao says. He shakes his head, not even trying to hide his disappointment. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“That judgey face—the situation is just..” You purse your lips and try to find your words, but end up lost in another train of thought. “Just, shut up.” 

You grumble into your cup, more to yourself than them. “You just don’t understand the situation.” 

They both raise an eyebrow at you. “Then make us understand,” Minghao says. He takes another long sip of his drink. 

“Listen, in this patriarchal society, I am put at a disadvantage.” 

“And this is related... How?” Seungkwan asks. 

“I’m a broke college girl, who’s not unattractive,” you say. “What’s wrong with using it a little?” 

“You know,” Seungkwan says. “There is a term for it. Instead of a booty call, it’s known as a foodie call.”

“Hm,” you say. “I like that.” 

“Foodie calls over booty calls,” Minghao says. “Classy.” 

“That’s the goal.” 

“So, who’s your next date with?” Seungkwan asks. 

You shrug, taking another sip of your coffee. “Right now, I’m still looking. We’ll just have to see.” You pull out your phone, scrolling through your messages. “Most of them are upperclassmen who don’t know what they’re getting into.” 

“Update us on that,” Minghao says. “Because we need to know the poor chump your sapping money out of.” 

“Hey!” You cross your arms. “Stop making me seem like a gold-digger. It’s just dinner, not a Gucci purse.” 

“Do you want a Gucci purse?” Seungkwan asks. 

You shrug. “I mean if it comes with the dinner, I’m not complaining.” 

“Is that technically gold-digging?” 

“I don’t think so…” 

You originally started this whole operation because of your favorite noodle dish at your favorite restaurant: Asianly Classics. There was only one problem—you couldn’t afford the dish every week. It’s not because it’s an extremely upscale place; it’s just because the business is local it means the menu is kind of… pricey. It doesn’t help either that it’s located in the city, meaning the prices are constantly rising. 

The first time you did it, it was unintentional. Your friend had been set up on a blind date and she couldn’t make it due to a prior engagement. So, she asked you for a favor and you went in her place. You weren’t sure of other places to go to, which led to you meeting him at Asianly Classics. He was super polite about the whole situation, especially since he insisted on paying for your meal because of the ‘inconvenience’ the date might have been—leading to your wonderful idea of the foodie calls. 

Deep down somewhere, you know it’s wrong to exploit these simple college boys. But, it’s hard not to because they’re... simple, college boys with two brain cells that are dying from classes and with reality hitting them hard. It’s just easier this way. 

It’s not like you’re a sugar baby (no disrespect to those women who are really stepping up their game though) or a booty call (no disrespect to the women who are having healthy, safe sex), so why were the guys making a big deal out of it? 

You break from your thoughts. “Even if I was a gold-digger, that’s none of your business.” 

Seungkwan playfully rolls his eyes at your words, then pulls out his laptop and opens it. “Well, speaking of business… We do have to work on our presentation for Intro to Investments 101.” 

You throw your head back, releasing an unladylike groan. Eventually, you sit back up and begrudgingly pull out your laptop. 

Minghao sits up, stretching his arms with his fingers interlocked. “I brought the notecards and pens. We can figure out who presents what once we sort it all out.” He sets out the materials on the table, opening a pen cap, and testing them out on a new notecard. 

“Curse uni for making this a required course,” Seungkwan whines. “I haven’t even been paying attention.” 

“When do you ever pay attention?” Minghao asks. 

“Don’t worry,” you say. You tap your temple twice, before pointing it back to them, as if to share your only brain cells left with them. “Saturday’s date taught me enough to compensate for our lack of attention span. That’s gotta count for something.” 

Minghao laughs. “I guess we’ll just have to see exactly how useful that information can be.” 

Another Saturday has rolled around and you sit at Asianly Classics once again. But, this time, you sit in front of a different date. Bambam sits with a leg crossing the other, as he talks animatedly about some party from last night. You can only smile at him, nodding along every once in a while to make it look as if you were paying any attention. 

“—it was so crazy! Jackson needs to stop making those crazy drinks because mixology is not a strength of his.” 

You let out a fake giggle and you prop your chin onto your hands, batting your eyelashes. “So what would be considered his strength?” 

“Anyone who knows him would say friendliness or something.” He takes a sip of his water. “But, what they don’t know is that he’s on the way to the Olympics for fencing. That reminds of this one time, where he….” 

As he starts up another story, you start to tune out once more. You will admit that this one is more entertaining than the last one. You’d trade fun college stories than financial tips any day—no offense to that other guy though. Bambam is a year older than that other guy, but by the way he’s talking, it’s hard to tell. 

Bambam continues to talk—meanwhile, you continue to nod along to his words, smiling and laughing when appropriate. 

“... that’s when he fell! One little poke and he just falls into the pool! Some athlete—he can’t even keep his balance! Phew, he’s a real funny guy.” 

You let out another fake laugh, glancing back towards the kitchen door. How long has it been since you ordered your food? 

Leaning back into your seat, you adjust your purse from behind you. You needed a breather from this one. You could feel your energy getting sapped from him. “Excuse me for a moment,” you say as you stand up. “I need to use the bathroom for just a second.” 

“Oh, of course,” he says. He sits himself up, uncrossing his legs as if he suddenly remembered he was in a public space and not some fraternity house. “Go ahead, take your time.” 

“Thanks,” you say with a smile. “I’ll be back soon.” You stand up, taking your bag with you. Your feet automatically take you down a familiar hallway where the bathrooms are located. Just as you are approaching the doors, you see a shadow of a figure—who addresses you before you fully acknowledged his presence. 

“Just where are you running off to?” 

Just outside the men’s bathroom, Chan leans against the wall with his phone in hand. He looks at you with a teasing smile and you can’t resist mirroring it. 

You click your tongue as you approach him. “And here I was, just wondering where my favorite waiter was.” You move yourself next to him, close enough to nudge his shoulder with your own. “I didn’t see you last week.” 

He chuckles. “I was here last weekend, same time” he says. “And the weekend before that, and the weekend before that. That’s kind of how jobs work. Just because you didn’t see me, doesn’t mean I wasn’t there.” 

“Ah, really?” you tease. “I had absolutely no idea.” You both stand there in silence for a second, before he speaks up again. 

“So, how’s the date going?” Chan asks. “Is he as bad as last week’s?” 

“Actually, he’s not that bad.” 

“Oh?” 

“He’s not as boring as the last one. That’s all I’m going to say.”

“I don’t think that it’s that hard considering what I overheard from last time—something about investing your stocks.” He tilts his head to the side with a playful glint in his eyes. “Are you investing in your stocks, (Y/N)?” 

You let out a little laugh. “I swear. Chan, you make these dates a little less worse.” 

“Thanks,” he says, flashing a smile at you. “You better get back out there before he thinks you crawled out the bathroom window.” 

“Psh, I would never.” 

He gives you a look, which you playfully roll your eyes to. You push yourself off from the wall and start to make your way back to your table. Chan turns his attention back to his phone. Without looking up, he waves as you start to leave. “Bye~” 

“I get the hint,” you say with a groan. You turn back to him. “And please let Paul know I would really like more sauce with my noodles?” 

He gives you a thumbs up. “As always.” 

“Thank youuuu.” You manage to move yourself away from the hallway and back to the dining area, where your date awaits. 

You give him a polite smile as you take back your seat. Ah, no food yet. “Sorry, if you waited long.” 

“Psh.” He waves off your comment. “I didn’t wait long. I hope you don’t mind though, I ordered some dessert while you were gone.” 

“I don’t mind dessert,” you say. You curl a piece of hair behind your ear. “Are we sharing it?” 

His mouth curves into an o-shape, realizing your concern. “Oh, we can share if you would like,” he says. “And don’t worry about the bill—since I ordered more, I’ll cover it.” 

You have to hide your smile. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” He pushes his rose-lens shades up and you have to resist rolling your eyes at his insistence of keeping them on while indoors. “It’s not fair to split it.” He gently takes your hand on the table. “It’s okay, (Y/N). Don’t worry about it—Oppa’s got the tab.” 

Oh, God, he used the o-word. You bite down your tongue and save the words for later. 

Looking away from him, you glance towards the other section of the restaurant, where Chan is serving a different table their food. He bows his head as you see him mouth ‘enjoy your meal.’ He makes eye contact with you, mouthing the question: ‘is he paying?’ You give him a discrete thumbs up underneath your table. 

Your attention is taken away from him, as your waiter comes over to set your food on the table. It looks just as beautiful as last week’s. Only this time, Paul had added some extra sauce, which drowned the noodles. You could cry from the beauty of this plate. 

“Your dessert will be served later,” your waitress says. “Thank you for your patience.” 

“Thank you,” you both say. 

Bambam immediately digs in. On the other hand, you look up to find Chan—where he’s already smiling at you. 

“How’d your date go?” Yeri asks. With a bit of skip in her step, her bookbag bounces along with her footsteps. 

You hug your textbooks closer to your chest and you reply with a bit of an exasperated sigh. “God, he was one more the more interesting ones.” 

“Who was it?” 

“That upperclassman named Bambam.” 

“I heard he’s a wild card.” 

“He is a wild card. The entire night he was just telling me all these wild stories about his friends, his parties and all that other crap. While he was more interesting than Hongjoong, I was so tired by the time our entrees got to the table.” 

Yeri sucks in a breath. “Sucks to suck, bro. You wanted to go on all these dates, so you have to face consequences of that choice.” 

You can’t say anything else because she’s right. You don’t really need to go on these dates, but if that means free food, why should you complain? 

The both of you continue your walk to the library, taking in the fresh air and atmosphere. You’d forgotten how big the campus is—or at least how long it takes to get from the dorms to the library center. Originally you had just met Yeri for lunch, but the both of you were invited to an impromptu study session with some others in your class and decided to walk there together. 

“On the bright side,” you say. “I saw Chan.” 

“Chan?” Her eyes narrow at you. “Isn’t that the waiter who likes you?” 

“No,” you say with a huff. “We’re just friends—acquaintances at least.” 

“Can you guys hurry the process because I made a bet with Doyeon you’d get together in, at least, a month.” 

“Yeri, you are such a dedicated friend.” 

She perks up, ignoring the sarcasm. “Why, thank you, (Y/N).”

You can only roll your eyes at her, but her smile only widens. 

“But seriously,” Yeri says. “You go on all these dates, complain about the guys, and yet, you talk more about Chan than you do about any of those other guys.” 

“Dude, I don’t even have his number. If we see one another, we talk and that’s it. I highly doubt it would go anywhere else.” 

“I’m just surprised that you two have been doing this dance for nearly four months and yet… nothing.” 

“You know, men and women can just be friends, right?” 

“Yeah, but you two are a different case,” Yeri says. “Considering how often you mention him. I haven’t even met him and that says something because I’ve met all of your friends.” 

“You haven’t met him because I literally don’t have his number. We just run into each other—we don’t plan anything.” 

“Well, I think there’s something.” 

“You always think there’s something.” 

“No, I—” 

“(Y/N)?” 

You and Yeri turn to see Chan, along with his friend, who holds a skateboard in one hand. You all stand near the entrance of the library; you two were going in and they were just leaving. 

Yeri’s clearly confused, but puts two and two together when your eyes light up. 

“Hey!” You step a bit closer to him, taking a look at his outfit. “I almost couldn’t spot you for a second. I’m so used to the uniform.” 

“Yeah, I am a bit more casual today, in case you haven’t been able to tell.” 

“Hmm,” you hum along with a teasing smile. “Were you going for broke student chic?” 

“Always.” He mirrors your smile with one of his own. You both stand there for a bit in your own bubble—with you ignoring Yeri’s smug look and Chan ignoring Hansol’s look of disappointment. 

“Oh, speaking of being broke,” you say. “You working this weekend?” 

“As always. You have another date on Saturday?” 

“As always.” 

“Who’s the poor sucker this time?” 

You roll your eyes at his words. “Maybe you’ll get to meet him this time. He’s really nice so we’ll see how it goes.” 

Chan lets out a small laugh, nodding along. “Alright, I got some plans so I’ll see you Saturday?” 

“I’ll be there.” 

“Bye.” 

“Bye.” You give him a little wave with your fingers as you step back next to Yeri. You head into the library, shushing Yeri and her little jabs about Chan.

Meanwhile, Hansol steps next to Chan, coming into his peripheral vision. He doesn’t say anything; he just shakes his head and clicks his tongue. 

“What, Hansol?” Chan asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Hansol sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. “You’re so whipped and you don’t even know it. I’m so sad for you.” He puts a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “Ignorance is bliss, my friend.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” 

Chan gives him a look, before hesitantly speaking further. “It’s not like that, you know.” 

“Hmm, I’m sure it isn’t.” Hansol flashes a fake smile. “Now, now—let’s get to the dance studio. We still have to meet the others there.” 

“Okay, weirdo.” 

Saturday rolls around earlier than you had originally thought. You’d almost forgotten about the date until you had received Jungwoo’s text a couple of hours before. That text gave you enough time to quickly sort out and arrange your outfit (with the help of your roommate). So, by the time he shows up at your door, you easily manage to follow suit and head to the restaurant. 

Compared to the other dates you’ve had, you haven’t had one as polite as Jungwoo. He asks about you, along with your interests, when you ask about him. He opens doors for you and he even covered your head when you got in the car. You haven’t even been on the actual date yet, but you’re already having a great time. 

Right now, he drives down the familiar road to Asianly Classics. You both agreed on a radio station, which plays a soft melody to go along with the evening mood. He continues to ask you about this and that, the conversation flowing between you. 

You hadn’t even noticed you had already arrived. After he successfully parks, you both head out of the car and towards the main entrance. Jungwoo eyes the place, taking in the atmosphere and aroma. 

“I haven’t been here,” Jungwoo says. “Is the food good?” 

You give him a smile. “I recommend this place to everyone. Trust me, it’s great.” 

The both of you head inside, stopping at the podium. The host arrives and grabs two menus. “Table for two?” 

Jungwoo smiles at her. “Yes, thank you.” 

The both of you follow her through the restaurant and are seated into a comfortable booth in the corner. Jungwoo opens the menu and starts browsing, while you immediately open to the noodles page—already prepared as to what you were going to order. 

“Everything here looks good,” he says. “Is it wrong to order two appetizers, an entree and a dessert?” He asks with a playful glint in his eye. 

You let out a small laugh. “It would be worth it, trust me.” 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I wouldn’t make you pay for all of that.” 

“Aha, well, thanks.” 

“Good evening, I’m Chan and I’ll be your server for this evening.” 

You look up from Jungwoo, from hearing Chan’s voice. Your jaw drops at his change of demeanor, hiding it behind the menu and away from Jungwoo’s eyes. He raises an eyebrow at you in response, dropping it once Jungwoo’s attention is on him. 

“Are there any appetizers you would like to order?” Chan asks. 

“Not at the moment,” Jungwoo says with a smile. “Unless I could be convinced?” He looks up from the menu to look at you. 

“I think I’m good,” you say. “But, if you want a recommendation, I would say the papaya salad is worth it.” 

“Another choice is the crab rangoon,” Chan says. “The chef uses her own secret recipe for the filling and it’s amazing.” 

“He’s right,” you say. You look from Chan to Jungwoo. “It is amazing.” 

“Well, damn,” Jungwoo says. He sets the menu down and looks at you once more. “I am convinced and will order the crab rangoon, along with the kimchi stew for my entree.” 

“Crab rangoon and kimchi stew,” Chan mutters as he writes. You have to stifle your giggles from his concentration on the pen and pad. When he looks up, your lips pressed together, holding back a smile. “The usual for you?” 

You nod. “Thank you, Chan.” 

“Please let me know if you need anything else,” Chan says with a smile. 

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you.” 

He takes your menus and gives you both another smile. With that, he walks back to the back to give your orders to the chef. Your eyes linger on his figure. He turns back once more and you give him another smile, before he turns away again. 

“So, you’re a regular here?” Jungwoo asks. 

Your attention focuses back on him. “Yeah, I come here often.” 

“I can tell,” Jungwoo says with a chuckle. “You two are close?” 

“Close enough,” you say. “You know, Chan goes to our university too.” 

“Really?” Jungwoo pokes his head up and tries to find Chan. “I thought he looked familiar.” 

“Yeah, he’s a dance major.” 

Jungwoo smiles, but there’s something about it that makes you tilt your head. “You seem to know a lot about him to just ‘come here often.’”

“Well, we do run into each other a lot at the library.” You try to think how often you talk to Chan. “And the dining halls.” Your head tilts. “And the university gym... I see him a lot more than I originally thought.” 

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Jungwoo asks. 

“Interesting how?” 

“Interesting how we start to pay attention to things when others point them out,” he says. He takes a sip of his water before speaking up once more. “Do what you will with that information.” 

“Exactly what do you think I should be doing with that information?” 

“Something that will get you done with all these fake dates and on one that you’d actually enjoy.” 

“I’m enjoying this date though,” you say. “Are you not enjoying this date?” 

“No, I’m enjoying it,” he says. “But I just want you to know, you should pay a bit more attention to those around you.” 

“What’d you mean?” 

“Just…” He shrugs, struggling to find the words. 

“Please don’t beat around the bush,” you say. 

“Okay, okay,” he says. “I just think you should be spending time on these dates with someone who you want to go on dates with…” 

“Like who?” 

His eyebrows raise at you and his head is tilting towards the direction of Chan, where he’s currently serving another table. 

You sigh, leaning your chin in your hand. “Why does everyone keep saying that? We’re… acquaintances, barely even friends.” 

“Really?” he asks. He crosses his arms. “You looked more excited to see him than you did me like twenty minutes ago.” 

You were already sick of Yeri talking about it and now, someone you’re on a date with? While you know your relationship with Chan is…. different, it really is just an acquaintanceship (if that’s even a thing). You literally don’t have his number, which means no plans are made—ultimately ruling friendship. On the other hand, you do appreciate the time you get with him, whenever you do run into him. Now that you think about it, your friends do make those weird faces (which you mostly ignore) whenever you talk to, or about, him. 

“... Did I?” 

He nods. “Look, (Y/N),” he says, leaning on the table. “It’s not my business, but... I wouldn’t mind getting my food to-go to, say, walk my dog.” He gives you a gentle smile, resting his hand on yours, as if for assurance. “Just say the word and I’ll go on a nightly walk with Obok; it’s up to you.” 

Your lips press, thinking for a bit. It’s rude to just ask Jungwoo to leave, so you could hang out with someone else. On the other hand…. 

Your eyes move away from Jungwoo’s and focus on Chan, who’s a couple of tables behind him. His eyes are in little crescents, as he laughs from a joke his co-worker makes. His nose is scrunched up and his decorative glasses are just on the edge of his nose. While his hair is slightly messy, his waiter uniform is nice and orderly, showcasing his legs and fit waist. 

Looking back to Jungwoo, you give him a smile, lightly squeezing his hand. You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you say the only thing that comes to mind. “Thanks, Jungwoo.” 

He taps the table and gives you another smile. Wordlessly, he stands up and gives you (what he believes is) a discreet thumbs up. He walks towards the counter and chats with the host there, probably asking for his meal to be boxed. On the other hand, Chan gets back to your table once your date has left. 

“What happened to him?” Chan asks with a pout. “He was cool.” 

You innocently shrug your shoulders. “He said he has to walk his dog, so…” 

“Sorry about your date.” He gives a half smile, as he sits down at the empty seat in front of you. “At least he’s still paying.” 

You stifle a laugh. “I feel kind of bad.” You pause, glancing at Jungwoo’s back. “He’s been really nice to me and I was actually having a good time.” 

“Well,” Chan says. “I’m assuming you still want your food?” 

“Of course,” you say. “I’m not going to decline free food.” 

He can’t hold back his smile, shaking his head along with it. “Why would I think so otherwise?” He gets up. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be out soon.” 

You give him another smile and he walks off to check on your meal. On the other hand, Jungwoo walks out with a paper bag in one hand and waves you goodbye with the other. 

You think about what Jungwoo’s said… maybe you should just ask Chan out and see how things go. Honestly, there isn’t much for you to lose—considering that you don’t share classes or friends. 

As you were mentally trying to weigh your pros and cons, your thoughts are interrupted as your plate is set in front of you. Your head snaps towards Chan, who looks down at you with a soft smile. 

“Enjoy your meal, (Y/N).” 

“Thanks.” 

Just as he turns away, you grab onto his wrist. He turns back. 

“Something wrong?”

“Uh.” You blink, not fully processing what you’d just done. “Sorry.” You let go of his arm. “That was kind of aggressive.” 

He only smiles. “You’re okay. Did you need something else?” 

You let out an awkward chuckle. “Um, when do you get off tonight?” 

“You’re lucky,” he says. “I get off around 7:30.” He gives you a questionable look. “Why?” 

“You wanna hang out after your shift?” 

There’s a light blush on his cheeks and he clears his throat. “Um, sure, if you want to.”

“I’m not trying to pressure you or anything,” you say. “I just thought we could spend some time together…” 

He gives a smile that gets bigger and bigger with each second, which you can’t help but to mirror. “Yeah, no. I, uh—I’d like that.” 

“Okay.” Your smile grows. “Just let me know, okay?” 

“Okay, and don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll pay, especially since I know how much you love men paying for you.” 

“Oh my god, shut up. Just because a couple of guys pay for dinner—” 

“Uh-huh, a couple. Maybe a couple dozen.” 

You close your eyes, trying to manage your breathing. You lean on the table, glancing up at him. “Chan, you’re lucky I like you.” 

Chan smiles before turning back around, unable to stop the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

“This place is so cool,” you say. You spin a bit in your stool, but manage to maintain eye contact with Chan. “How’d you know about this place?” 

“I used to work here during high school,” he says, fiddling with his fingers. “It was really fun because it was literally just high schoolers and college kids. Our boss was the only ‘mature adult’ and she didn’t come around often.” 

You hum, taking in the old ice cream parlor. It’s designed to look like a diner—almost like Oberweis. A checkered pattern of red and white squares and triangles filled the top half of the walls, which your eyes couldn’t help but to follow around. The corners of the ice cream shop have some faux marble decorations on little white shelves, along with the lining of the walls, making it a bit more old-fashioned.

The burgundy colored booths are placed along the walls, which seated families, couples, and friends. Meanwhile, the larger space is occupied with small, round, white tables with red chairs, on top of a black and white checkered floor. You and Chan sit on stools that are placed along the countertop, waiting for your orders to arrive. 

He’s still in his uniform, but the top few buttons are unbuttoned (which you may or may not have stared at as he did it) and his bowtie is completely undone, laying on his shoulders. He keeps his glasses on, even though he told you they’re for decorative purposes. 

“I heard that working at an ice cream shop is good for your arms,” you say. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Good for your arms, but bad for your wrists and your stomach.” 

“Stomach?” 

“You have no idea how much ice cream I ate that year.” 

You laugh at the look Chan gives you and he smiles. 

“It’s all fun and games until you’ve gained like ten pounds,” he adds. 

“I think it’d be fun to work in an ice cream shop,” you say. “Obviously, food service is horrible in general, but… it must be fun to work with such people of similar age.” 

“Customers for food service are always a pain in the ass,” Chan says. “That’s universal.” 

At that time, your server arrives and places your orders down. The both of you thank him. You silently raise your ice cream and he raises his, lightly tapping against yours. 

“Cheers,” he says. 

“Cheers.” 

For a moment, it’s quiet between the two of you. You both eat your ice cream, taking in the lively atmosphere. 

“You know,” you say. “I think this is the first time we’ve officially hung out together.” 

“I think you’re right,” Chan says with a laugh. “I would’ve remembered if we did.” 

“You would’ve?” 

“Yeah,” he says softly. “You know, you’re kind of unforgettable.” 

Your smile grows. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” He exhales, blowing up towards his bangs a bit. For a moment, he hesitates on speaking—biting his lower lip. Your gaze fixates on that a bit longer than you’d like to admit. “If you don’t mind, I want to ask you something.” 

“Shoot.” 

“What—what happened tonight?” He explains, when your head tilts at the question. “Like, what chased your date away and led you to me?” 

You let out a small laugh. “First of all, I love the choice of words.” 

“You know what I mean though.” 

“Second of all, I didn’t ‘chase him away’ because he chose to leave on his own.” You fiddle with your spoon, splitting your ice cream repeatedly. “We were having a nice conversation.”

“And?” 

“I don’t know. We were just talking and he said…” You sigh. “He implied that I needed a push in the right direction to do the things I wanted to do.” 

“The right direction of what?” 

Your eyes shift and you fully focus on your, now melting, ice cream. “Just… where I should be spending time and who I choose to spend it with.”

Chan gets quiet. “And that’s me?” 

“Yeah,” you manage to say. 

It’s barely above a whisper and, yet, Chan still managed to hear it. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the blood rushing to his cheeks. He doesn’t hide his smile, even when he looks at you. 

“I guess I could say now…” he starts to say. “I liked being behind the scenes for your dates, but.. I didn’t really like the guys you were with.” 

“Chan.” You place your hand on his. “They weren’t awful.” 

“I know,” he says. “It’s just that they could have been so much better.” He pauses. “I do like that Jungwoo guy though. He’s pretty cool.” 

You laugh at that. “Well, I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t give me the push, so… yeah, he’s pretty cool.” You pause. “I’m still surprised though.” 

“Surprised about what?” 

“Surprised that you’re okay with me and… manipulating men into buying me dinner.” 

“The thing is,” he says. “Is that I know you’re not inherently bad.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Because.” He tucks a stand of hair behind your ear. “From what I’ve seen behind the facade, you aren’t different, just—you’re just more quiet.” He corrects himself. “Not that you’re loud or anything, just—just that the guys you’re with don’t really get to know you and that’s… that’s not what a date is supposed to be like.”

“What is a date supposed to be like then?” 

“Hopefully,” he says. “I can take you on a better one next time?” 

“Yeah,” you say, interlocking your fingers with his. “I’d be up for that.” 

[sachiwrites]

so i heard you take other players as well ! could you maybe write on for atsumu where he meets a stubborn girl at the club or bar? but rather than actually wanting a one night stand he genuinely wants to take her out but she's against it? hope that makes sense.

hi !! it makes perfect sense and i ended up spending all day on this. hope this is what you wanted. 

(trimmed for length, not content. like 4k length. this really took like all day)

—want me not | atsumu x reader

“Atumu Miya.” He smiled exposing his perfectly white teeth. You looked up at him again, his warm honey eyes staring into yours. He laughed lightly extending his hand.

Offering your name, you couldn’t help but want him. Already wanting him.

The media view of him did his real image no justice. He was even better up close. His hair hit such a perfect shade of blonde that it was almost too unrealistic. And that smile, it was enough to kill any self control you’d had built up to this point.

You’d have this man, preferably before day break.

“Nice to meet you” He smirked tucking his hand back into his jean pocket, swaying slightly to the music. You waited for the hands on your hips, the guiding touch to lead you away for the night. But it never came. Despite expressing his interest he didn’t bargain more than that. 

“You know, you’re gorgeous.” He said simply, his grin disappearing as he exposed his tongue, tracing it across his lips.

“You’re already everything I want in a woman, and I’ve just learned your name.”

Names were just learned to be polite. You hated being on the end of a one night stand being called anything and everything but your own name.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” Now, it was your turn to smirk. Atsumu chuckled, raising his eyebrow slightly. “Really now? Just not too bad? Cause the way you’re looking at me now makes me believe otherwise.”

You bit back a curse. His eyes were like a freaking whirlpool sucking you in. You couldn’t look at him without at some point meeting his eyes. This one would be a tricky one. But frankly that just made it more of a challenge.

You softened your stare, letting your eyes glance lazily over the club before returning back to him “That’s all.” you smiled innocently through your lies.

In honesty, Atsumu Miya was far from ‘not bad’. In fact, you were sure you had never been more attracted to someone in a long time, maybe ever. Whatever it was, he had it, and you wanted it.

“Well I think I can say with support from the majority of the female population that I am more than ‘not bad’ ” Again, he smirked. You couldn’t deny the fact your body tingled when he did that.

“Cocky.”

He shook his head, his golden halo hair glowing against the dim lights. He reached out a hand; you noticed his tanned skin and strong, veiny arms. “Confident.” He replied simply, his hand pushing a loose lock of hair behind your ear. You swallowed, hard, noticing the definiteness of his abs through his shirt every time he made a slight movement.

This was definitely more than a challenge.

“Told you I was better than ‘not bad’.” His voice interrupted you as you turned your gaze back up to him. He was back to that bright smile, one that said ‘Me? I could never.’  “I can see you checking me out. Again.”

Running out of options, you knew you needed to hook him quick before he entanged you.

You shifted your eyes immediately, mirroring the smile he’d presented to you thus far.

“So, you might look good. That still doesn’t change the fact that you’re probably a cocky little, self loving, obnoxious sports star.” You smirked, satisfied with your own response, while your eyes managed to remain serious.

He laughed lightly again, shaking his head. “Let me prove you wrong.” He said, edging slightly closer to you.  “Let me take you out sometime.” He smiled.

Those were the words that would normally send you packing. A guy that asked for a date normally would request another and another and string a girl along into a sense of comfort until he could get in your pants. Whether Atsumu was that guy or not didn’t matter. You didn’t need the frivolity of propriety in order to get what you both wanted.

You just didn’t date.

You shook your head immediately knowing that it was out of the question. “I don’t do dates.” 

“You don’t?” He asked, an eyebrow rose. You reasserted with a shake of your head.  He was silent for a moment, almost waiting for the ‘just kidding’. That ‘just kidding’ was never going to come, you was serious, and eventually – he realized that. “Why not?”

She turned to face him more, their bodies even closer than before. The height difference between you is even more evident now, despite your heels. “You and I both know dates are only used to get on a girl’s good side so a guy can take her to bed and fuck her senseless. Guys don’t really want to go to that restaurant, they really aren’t interested in the terrible day you had, and they really don’t want to be paying all that money for a dinner that their ‘fucking’ conquest probably didn’t even finish.” you stated diplomatically.

You watched Atsumu, unable to read his expression – his eyebrows were furrowed but there was  still that smile playing on his lips. “I can’t change your mind, can I?” she shook her head.

He couldn’t. No one could.

“But, I think you’re wrong.” You felt your own eyebrows furrow then, you didn’t like being wrong.

Atsumu judged your reaction in an instant and continued to talk. “I love to eat and especially love a girl with an appetite, and my friends tell me I’m a good listener and I bet I could make you laugh so hard you’d forget about your bad day and, honestly? I couldn’t care if you finished your meal or not, ladies don’t pay.”

You were speechless.

You couldn’t help it; you didn’t even try to fight it.

The boy was good. No denying that.

You let a sarcastic laugh leave your lips. “Smooth Atsumu, I’ll give you that much.”

“So, you wouldn’t like to go on a date with me?” He asked moments later, his face the image of pure seriousness.

“I don’t do dates,” you repeated, “With anyone.”

You weren’t used to that reaction. Normally guys would kill to get one night with a girl without any drama or emotions. Atsumu on the other-hand was questioning it, defying it.

“You can’t really be serious’ He smirked, though you didn’t seem to find it funny. “I mean, what do you do if you like a guy?”

“Cut out the chase.” you smiled, batting your eyelashes slightly more than before – hoping he’d get it. Hoping he’d be quiet shut-up and get with the program. Your program.

“What about boyfriends? You can’t date someone just because they’re a good fuck.”

“I’ve dealt with boys,” you told him truthfully, “I don’t like their definition of relationships.” you shrugged. You could feel his critical eyes watching you suspiciously again, as if he still didn’t believe you, still didn’t get it, and still didn’t understand.

“So what now? You just don’t bother trying. I have to tell you, you’re missing out.” He was intrigued, but meant every word he said.

You could feel your facade falling. It was then that you realized that Atsumu Miya wasn’t just some guy. Atsumu wanted to ask questions. He wanted to know more. And, for the most part – from the way things looked right now, he really did want to date. It was then that you normally would have given up, smiled and retreated back to the bar and waited for another one to come along. But, with Atsumu – there was something. There more you listened to his voice got mesmerized by his eyes, his body – even his damn mannerisms got you. Licking his lips before he began a sentence, you didn’t just want Atsumu then. She needed him. Her body almost craved him.

And you needed him to feel the same way. Preferably without the commitment.

“So, you’re telling me that if I asked you to come home with me right now you wouldn’t?” you smirked playfully, gauging his expression carefully. He was hard to read, you noticed that immediately. He would laugh warmly, not awkwardly, not because he thought the comment was hilarious –Just because. He would smile, then trace his tongue across his lips, his expression more serious.

“I can’t answer that.” He stated.

“Why?” you almost sighed, sick of him playing the game that seemed to go nowhere. Sick of him being a ‘good guy’. ’ anice guy’. No guy was like this in real life. They all had their secret motives.

“You haven’t asked me.” He shrugged smugly.

You hated smugness. You were the smug one, mostly. You sighed audibly, visibly annoyed with him. He only smirked in response, happy with that reaction.

“You know, I’m unsure if you’re even going to be worth all of this shit.” you stated simply, cocking your head to one side as you glared at him. But you silently prayed he would come around and see things your way. God, it would be sinning if a man like that was to go to waste.

“Oh I definitely am, that I can promise.” He spoke seductively, biting his bottom lip as he finished his sentence. You knew it was put on, but, you didn’t care –it was working, he was making you want him more than you had anticipated.

“You know, I still think you’re a cocky self-loving, obnoxious sports star.” you told herself it was still true, yet in those brief few moments he already slightly swayed your judgment. Slightly. He was still a man, men still lie.

“And I’m pretty sure you still want me despite that. Plus, I’m starting to think you’re a stuck up, man hating sex maniac.” He almost choked on his words with laughter.

“But I’m pretty sure you still want me.” you stated, yet it came out like a question. Honestly, now you weren’t sure if he did.

“ Maybe. But” He smiled playfully; he knew what he was doing. “But not in the way you apparently want me too.”

“Why are you so damn adamant?” you asked genuinely wondering.

He reached forward, closing the small gap between then his strong hand clasping at your side – pulling you closer to him. “Because a girl like you doesn’t come around everyday. And you’re worth  more than I one night stand.” He whispered gruffly.

You watched his eyes reconnect with yours, before they fell to your lips.

They were softer than you imagined. They way they moved against your in such a passion it was unreal. It was different than those sloppy drunken kisses you shared in the past. It was unlike anything you ever experienced. You felt almost felt like there was something else. Something more meaningful.

You pulled away quickly suppressing a gasp. Your fingers brushed against your lips; your mind clouded. This boy was dangerous. Maybe you were a little too in over your head.

“Let’s make a deal” He said the second your lips parted. You looked up at him, he paused for a moment a thoughtful look on his face, before returning his attention back to you. “But first, let me point out that I’m not going home with you tonight, sweetheart” He stated, and, you felt your stomach drop. The excitement, lust, anticipation disappearing in an instant.

You looked at him, now looking for the ‘I’m kidding’. That ‘I’m kidding’, never came either.

Nothing should be a surprise at this point. 

“But tomorrow night I will” he spoke up suddenly gaining your attention.“If you promise to go on a date with me the morning before.” He finished, watching you expectantly.

Now you were really looking for some guys to come out informing you that you just got pranked. Because this guy wasn’t serious, he couldn’t be. Did he not hear what you had been saying this whole conversation?

You. did.not.date. What was so hard about that to comprehend?

Yet here this guy was blatantly asking you out after you just explained to him.

“You know you’re dumber than you look,” you muttered disappointedly. Here you were thinking you were going to take an athlete home. What a waste.

Atsumu suddenly gripped your shoulder forcing you to meet his gaze. The same gaze that got you in this mess in the first place.

“Would you just hear me out, sweetie?” There was a new edge to his voice, something that made spoke volumes about how adamant he was about getting his way.

You instantly recoiled at the sound of the pet name. Jerking your head to the side, you avoided his gaze before it sucked you in.“No I won’t. What don’t you understand? I don’t date!”

There was a silence between them.

Atsume looked up after a moment,“ Eleven o'clock sounds reasonable for a breakfast date. Meet me at Seaside for brunch.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. This man was ridiculous. 

Wrenching out of your hold you didn’t bother to respond, hoping your abruptness would get you answer across. You didn’t date. That was your final answer and you was sticking with it.

Even though you didn’t look over your shoulder to confirm, you were hoping he would reconsider and look at things your way. You prayed that your little player would come pawing behind you like a lost puppy. Finally noticing his loss before it got away.

But he didn’t. That night, you went home alone.

                                             .          .            . 

“Mimi! Will you turn your damn keypad tones off? My head is throbbing!” You moaned, pulling back the door of the restaurant, heels clicking against the floor as you walked inside. That mixed with the sound of your friends fingers clicking audibly against her keys was enough to make you want to lie out, then and there.

“Are you still pissed off about that athlete dude? The volleyball plater?” She asked as the male waiter led you to the table. You closed your eyes tight briefly, throwing your head to the ceiling in annoyance. You couldn’t care less about Atsumu. You couldn’t care less about the fact that he turned you down. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

“I don’t care about him, in the slightest!” You spoke more defensively than anticipated as the waiter pulled out your seat. You smiled, sitting and taking the menu as he disappeared. You turned your attention to the menu, hoping Mimi would stop, give up, shut up.

“You’ve been a bitch all day,” Mimi stated, causing you to look above your menu. You dropped your eyes towards her. Mimi was like you in that sense. She said what she really meant, she didn’t hold back – and, even though you shared that trait you hated her for it. “So don’t try tell me something, namely some athlete isn’t bothering you.”

“He isn’t.” You snapped, “Now just order some damn food and drop it, okay?” You could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t going to drop it. The way she stared right back at you, trying to read you. Read her like she had tried to read Atsumu the previous night. She cocked her head slightly as she stared at you across the table. “What Mimi? Have you developed a girl crush or something?” you hissed.

“It’s because he rejected you, isn’t it? Because he didn’t actually come home with you?” You felt myself swallow, hard.

“Mimi if you don’t drop this shit, I’m leaving. Seriously, drop it!” You retorted defensively. Atsumu did reject you, but that was nobody’s business. No one but yours and his. There was a long pause as her green eyes continued to look at you, she stared before they widened slightly, almost in shock.

“Oh, my god.” She said slowly, a half smile appearing on her face. You wrinkled your face up in confusion waiting for her to continue. As much as you loved your best friend, occasionally this she could grate your nerves. “He’s the first person to reject you, isn’t he?” She said almost triumphantly. You felt your breath hinge in my throat. You cleared it before turning back to the menu.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mimi.” You scoffed, your eyes not even focusing on the list of choices offered.

“Oh come on, even the damn waiter is smitten on your ass!” She nodded to her right. You lifted my eyes from the menu, noticing the university aged waiter staring right back at you. Smiling awkwardly, you returned your gaze to Mimi. “You cannot tell me you’ve given any other guys the option of having fun, no strings attached sex with you and they’ve declined it?” You scoffed again, causing her to smile widely. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

She was right. You didn’t answer. You wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“I am.” She said smugly, leaning back into her chair. “Atsumu’s the first person to ever say no to you.” You hated her smugness.

“And? So what?” You scoffed, turning your attention back to the menu, as if it didn’t matter. As if you didn’t care. But, the more Mimi pushed it. The more you thought about it, the more you thought of him, of his rejection you did care. It did matter.

“And now you’re pissed.”

“No, I’m not.” 

“So, you want him more because he rejected you.” She pushed, smirking from across the table.

Fuck.

“Why do you care so much Mimi, really? What satisfaction are you getting from this?” you wondered genuinely, as she smiled.

“I just want to know if you’d try again.” She said almost slyly.

“Why?” You huffed louder than before, your frustrations growing. It was over, it was done. It was none of her business.

“Because, he’s right over there.” She almost laughed as she finished her sentence. You furrowed your eyebrows, following the direction of her eyes. You felt your stomach drop, she was right. You watched as he walked towards his seat, his loose sweats hung low, exposing lean hips when he twists just right. His hair was messier today, like he hadn’t bothered with much more than getting out of bed. You hated how it all looked just as appealing. 

Before he could take his seat you snap your attention back to your friend. You propped an elbow on the table, covering your face slightly with your hand as you stared at the menu. “Are you trying to hide?” Mimi snickered, almost choking on her words. You didn’t answer; you just narrowed your eyes towards her.

She was right. You didn’t know how to deal with rejection.

“What’s up Ms. Independent?” Your eyes widened as you looked at the menu. That gruff, sexy voice. You heard a chair squeak slightly as you looked up beside you, catching Atsumu drag a chair backwards. Wrapping his legs either side, and leaning his arms on the back, smirking.

You swallowed, forgetting last night’s events as you smiled back towards him. Nobody won against you, no one. “What’s up jerk?” He laughed lightly, resting his chin on his arms that lay on the back of the cold colored chair.

“What are you doing?” He asked innocently. Because that’s what he was, innocent…

You looked at him, gesturing to the menus. “What does it look like?” You snapped without a thought. You realized then that you were more affected by his rejection than what you had previously thought. Looking at his wide smile, his full lips, his brown eyes.

Jerk.

“Someone’s touchy today,” He smirked playfully as the food was placed between yourself and Mimi. You waited for him to get the hint, to politely leave you to eat. He didn’t. He joked with Mimi as you stuck your fork loudly, annoyingly into your meal. “What’s wrong?” He asked minutes later, turning his attention back to you. You ignored him, surprisingly getting good at that as focused on your food, continuing to eat.

You didn’t get it. You didn’t get him. He didn’t want you; 24 hours ago he rejected you. You knew from the moment you met Atsumu he was hard to read, but now? Now, he had you down right confused.

“You know,” Atsumu began, leaning forward towards you, his voice lower than before. “I think this counts as a date.” Across the table, Mimi muffled a squeak of glee. 

“No, this was called ‘I’m trying to eat and you won’t go away’”. You replied snort, watching his smile never falter, like what you said didn’t matter –didn’t affect him. That was new. He wasn’t offended easily. Mimi sensed the tension, as she excused herself. You watched as Atsumu nodded, licking his lips slightly.

“Ok, fine. This wasn’t a date.” He said simply. You smiled, you had won. “Kind of a shame though.” He said simply, his lips turning into a smile just slightly. Sneakily.

“Why?” You questioned confused.

“Date’s end with a kiss, right?” His gruff voice asked, you nodded. “Kissing can lead to anything.” He smirked, biting his lip as he finished his sentence, his eyes burning through you. You felt it again, that energy. That tingle. Sexual chemistry. You swallowed, before shrugging.

“And here’s me thinking you were a good guy.”

“I am,” He smirked again, exposing his white teeth. “I’m just wondering whether this was a date or not.”

“Not.” You confirmed, wondering inwardly if you said ‘yes’ would you get what you wanted, him. Atsumu continued to look at you, waiting. Waiting for you to say it. You wouldn’t give in, not to him, not to anyone. “Anyway,” you continued, pushing your chair back,  brushing against his jeans purposely. You watched his reaction closely, the way he looked down as you did so, the way his lip disappeared between his teeth. You knew at that moment, he wanted it just as much. “I better get going.” You lied; you had nowhere to be.

You felt his eyes burn into you as you stood up, reaching for my bag. “

He sighed your name. As you turned to him, his smirk faded. His tongue traced his lips again, sending shivers through your spine. You wouldn’t let him see. 

Atsumu laughed lightly, running his hands through his hair almost in annoyance. “You’re so frustrating.” He said simply, honestly. You ignored him, knowing he was right. It was true.

I turned on your heel, hearing him follow behind. You reached inside your bag as he pushed slightly past. Looking up, you caught as he handed the waiter the payment, pointing to our table- your  table. He paid, before pressing his hands against the glass, pushing it open and leaving. 

You stood there for what felt like minutes, but in reality it was only seconds.

He had paid. He wasn’t lying when he said he always would. You sighed, shoving the money deep within your bag, simultaneously shoving your pride deep within your stomach. Your shoes clicking loudly against the floor as you followed him out the door.

“Atsumu,” you called his name quietly seeing him a few steps ahead, he turned around as your breath hinged in your throat. There was an awkward silence as he waited for you to speak, as you waited for you to speak.

“- Thanks.” you barely mumbled.

“No problem, sweetheart.” He said again simply. How he said everything, he wasn’t fazed at all. He turned again; you felt my stomach drop in disappointment. You groaned quietly, staring at the sky.

If you were to get what you wanted, you had to swallow my pride. 

Fuck.

Your.

Life.

You followed his steps, reaching him and tapping his shoulder. You didn’t take in his reaction, you didn’t care. In an instant, you pressed your lips against his. Within seconds you could feel him smile against the kiss. His strong hands holding your waist, his strong assured grip that you longed to feel elsewhere.

“So, are you gonna admit defeat?” He almost groaned against your lips. You opened your eyes, staring into the honey pools staring back.

You were most definitely ready to admit defeat.