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rrxnjun · 1 year ago

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where do broken hearts go? [lmk]

you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader

genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.

wc: 12k (11.926)

warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic

playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz

a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)

When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him.

There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.

Step one – cry it out.

“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”

“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.

“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude.

He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.

First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all.

Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would.

And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.

And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.

“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.

“You know I hate cookies and cream!”

“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.

And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.

Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.

Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.

“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.

“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”

“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”

And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.

It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.

“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.

Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe.

“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.

Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…”

Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.

“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.

Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.

And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier.

And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose.

Couldn’t he forget about that too?

Step three – block his number.

The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.

Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one.

Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.

So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.

“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.

Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,” you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence.

“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.

“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.

“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”

“Mark–”

“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”

The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now– as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does.

“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?

“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.

“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”

You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.

“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.

“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”

It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.

“What was it?”

“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.

“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”

The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.

“Good night, Mark.”

“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.

He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.

And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.

Step four – date someone new.

“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.

“So…?”

A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.

“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.

“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”

“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.

“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”

“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.

“I said he asked about you.”

“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”

Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”

“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”

“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”

Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.

Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”

Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”

“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”

“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”

“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.

“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”

“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.

“No, that’s not it–”

“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.

“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.

“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”

“I have you,” you try.

“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”

You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.

Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help.

Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”

“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“

And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice.

And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car.

The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.

“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack.

Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.

Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this?

“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening.

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place.

“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.

And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind.

Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain.

It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different.

Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?

After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.

Step five – avoid him at all costs.

Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?

Wrong.

Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?

And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike.

When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile.

“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.

You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.

“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”

Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.

“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”

Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.

Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.

It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest.

You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about.

You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning.

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”

Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”

The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.

At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now.

“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”

The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.

“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.

“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”

Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.

“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body.

Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”

“Here, of all places?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”

Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface.

“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”

“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft.

“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?”

He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”

“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.

“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.

And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you.

“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”

“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.

A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”

His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.

And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more.

“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.

Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough.

“I love you,” he says.

And isn’t that all that’s needed?

A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?

“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”

“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him.

“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.

Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.

“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”

And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time.

Where do broken hearts go?

Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair.

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”

“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him.

“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”

You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again.

You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.

“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.

Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.

“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else.

That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge.

And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.

He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression.

“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.

“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.

“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.

Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”

“Even us?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.

“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.

“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”

Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence. “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”

Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.

You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.

Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.

You guess your heart never really left the hill.

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hotvintagepoll · 7 months ago

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Propaganda

Rita Moreno (Singin' in the Rain, West Side Story)—She’s an EGOT, an absolute legend for how she navigated her career as a woman of color in the fifties and sixties. Her performance as Anita in West Side Story is why I go back to that movie so many times. She is an icon and she is the moment.

Angela Lansbury (The Harvey Girls, The Court Jester, The Manchurian Candidate)—The babe, the myth, the legend. In her own words her early hollywood roles were "a series of venal bitches" and they were all glorious. Half of them wanted to kill you and you probably would have thanked them. She even goes toe to toe with Judy Garland in The Harvey Girls! That said, she was chronically underused and misused during this era - she was just 36 when she was cast as Elvis Presley's mother in Blue Hawaii and a few years later commented that she'd played so many 'old hags' that most people thought she was in her 60s. She thought she was "all talent, no looks" but she was the full package! Post-1970 I hope we all know what an incredibly talented and compassionate badass she was, but I feel like not enough people know her early roles as a hot (often villainous) young thing.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Rita Moreno propaganda:

"Amazing showstopping actress in her one big memorable role as Anita in West Side Story. She sings and dances with unmatched joy and energy, and then breaks your heart with her acting. Rita took a role that felt as a stereotype to latina women and made it compelling and multifaceted. Her subsequent career was filled with mostly side roles, but she still managed to excel in whatever Hollywood threw at her."

"It’s Rita!! The EGOT herself! She can act, she can sing, she can dance, a triple threat. Obviously absolutely iconic as Anita in West Side Story (her part of the Tonight Quintet is the sexiest part of the film, fight me). But before that she was the amazing Zelda in Singin’ In the Rain!?! Thanks Zelda, you’re a real pal."

"She continues to be amazing but also she's got legs for days."

"THEE iconic rita moreno, EGOT winner, civil rights activist, theatre legend. watch her documentary "Rita Moreno: Just a Girl Who Decided to Go for It". also her rendition of "fever" on the muppet show"

youtube

Angela Lansbury:

"Angela Lansbury might not be where your mind goes first when you think of hot leading women, because she had a later career revival. But she began acting in the early 1940s after leaving London due to the Blitz. In the first couple decades of her film career she has an openness about her. She said she never really fit in with the Hollywood crowd and to me she gives off a friendly, untarnished vibe."

64.media.tumblr.com

"Most of us know Angela Lansbury as old lady sleuth Jessica Fletcher, but it's important to know that she was smoking hot in her younger days as well as a damned fine actress. Although she didn't get lead roles until her early 40s, at 17 she was a supporting actress in films such as Gaslight (1944), National Velvet (1944), and The Picture of Dorian Grey, for which she won the Golden Globe for best supporting actress and was nominated for the Oscar. Even in her memorable performance as the manipulative mother in The Manchurian Candidate, she is listed as a supporting actress as she does not play the love interest. She was successful both on stage and screen, and won the Tony for her lead role in the musical Mame on Broadway in 1966. TL;DR While Angela Lansbury mostly played supporting roles in films before 1970, she had what it takes to be a leading actress, which we know from her success on stage and tv from the mid 60s onward"

"She looked like a princess but bit like a viper"

"Is there anything this woman couldn't do? Act in comedy and drama, sing, dance, be a wonderful human being - quite simply a true and wonderful lady."

"she is the fairytale princess of my dreams in court jester"

"god she had such an incredible career all throughout her life really but as a young lady she was just as incredible as she was in her later years. enchanting voice, amazing personality, and absolutely GORGEOUS. she lamented not having the looks to play leads in romance but that idea is so batshit because look at her??? she's one of the most terrific women of all time. also she's my grandmother's favorite actress and i truly get it"

#angela lansbury #rita moreno #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4 #Youtube

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bloodstained-ballgowns · 4 months ago

Text

i just rewatched ‘the woman who fell to earth’ a couple of days ago for the first time since it aired back in 2018 and the more i think about it, the more i like it.

thirteen is the only doctor for whom i feel a tangible, rose-tinted nostalgia. she wasn’t my first doctor, but she was the first doctor i watched live, the first doctor that i spent an actual extended period of time with over the episode rollout. her intro episode has middling parts (as can be expected with most episodes of Who) but there’s also so much good that i really want to highlight.

first of all, there are some really great character dynamics set up here. much more interesting than i remember, tbh. ryan is a guy who loves mechanics but is stuck in a warehouse job he hates, a guy who obviously wants to connect to people, a guy who by the end of the episode has lost both his mother and grandmother in the space of a couple of years and the step-grandfather he didn’t really want is all he has left (minus his absent father). that’s interesting.

yaz has a keen sense of justice and this raw, intense yearning to help people, to do something worthwhile, something more - the way she has chosen to express that is through law enforcement, but it’s not quite giving her the satisfaction she wants. that’s interesting.

graham’s experience with cancer means that he constantly feels like he’s living on borrowed time. meeting grace gave him purpose, gave him family, gave him the will to fight when he fought it was all but over, but now grace is gone. he and ryan aren’t related, but they’re family, and now they’ve got to figure out how to care for each other without the very lynchpin that brought them together. once again with feeling: interesting!

“i’m just a traveller. sometimes i see things that need fixing. i do what i can.” i like that they circle back to the ‘just some guy’ portrayal of the doctor here, both because it’s the one i’m partial to and because it feeds particularly well into the whole ‘the doctor is an unreliable narrator’ aspect, especially in the wake of the increased deification in the moffat era. it's a nice set up, even if it gets completely overhauled circa series 12/13. in fact, having thirteen keep this as a persistent attitude throughout the Timeless Child of it all could have been really effective re: her reticence with her companions and refusal to address or deal with her past.

the scene where thirteen builds her sonic screwdriver might be one of my favourite sequences in nuwho. i love that it’s a hybrid of alien tech and sheffield steel. i also love that they highlight the ‘mad inventor’ side of the doctor here (her teleportation circuit is based around a microwave?) and wish that they had carried it forward more. it would have been the perfect basis for her to bond with ryan over. jodie also pulls off the humour of the episode well, considering the significant shift from moffat dialogue.

i enjoy thirteen's outfit: the vibrancy of it as mirroring her childish excitability, but also as another part of the mask - if i dress all colourful then maybe i can ignore/outrun/masquerade my great capacity for darkness! etc etc. the shopping trip with yaz and ryan is a bit shoe-horned in at the end but it's cute that she finds it in a charity shop. (back in 2018 i bought a t-shirt with a couple of stripes across the chest solely because it remotely resembled the one she wore lol. nerd from a young age, me.) jodie also looks soo hot in capaldi's outfit though so a spin on the traditional suit would also have been appreciated.

some miscellaneous points: i like that she tells Karl off (“you had no right to do that”) right after saving him. i like that she gets it wrong at first and makes it clear that she’s working on the fly. she’s following her instinct, and that instinct is to help people. doctor who has been beautiful before but the cinematography takes such a huge step this era. “it’s been a long time since i bought women’s clothes” i am choosing to believe this is about river thank you and good night.

#if you read all of this you are so brave and also i love you #accidental essay #'potential' is the chibnall era in one word tbh #excuse inaccurate comparisons i do not remember enough about this era and what they carry forward #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #doctor who #the woman who fell to earth #ryan sinclair #yasmin khan #graham o'brien

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sebscore · 1 year ago

Note

if you feel comfortable doing so, how do you think the grid would react if gzd was going through a rough patch and she’s being like really quiet and in her head?

i’m kinda slipping back into this era and i just need the grids comfort

THIS IS ALL I NEVER WANTED

pairing: lando norris x driver!reader / daniel ricciardo x driver!reader / sebastian vettel x driver!reader / lewis hamilton x sebastian vettel

warnings: reader feels defeated and is ready to give up. swearing. mention of sexism.

author’s note: the comfort fic is finally hear, lmao :) sorry that it took me this long, got caught up with gentle hit, but it’s here now !!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''That's the car of Y/L that goes into the gravel- another DNF for the young driver.'' Crofty commented as he watched her retire from the fight for the third consecutive race.

Meanwhile in the car, Y/N's radio was bombarded by her engineer. ''We're so sorry, Y/N. A podium was possible, but we'll keep pushing harder for next time. We'll debrief.'' Marco apologised, frustration and guilt audible in his voice.

''Understood.'' The indifferent tone came as a surprise to the team and viewers, but it was understandable as the driver hadn't been able to finish a race in over a month.

The ride back to the paddock was humiliating to say the least. The pitiful looks from fans, the judging eyes of critics and the loud whispers didn't do much to brighten the dark cloud that was her mind.

Her post-race interviews also weren't a great help to her already declining confidence.

''It's the third consecutive DNF for you- how are you managing to stay positive and to not lose hope in the car?'' Nathalie asked her, sounding compassionate.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''Nothing is positive at all,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I think I'm doing everything right and then it all goes wrong for some reason.''

''I'm working hard with the team, but it doesn't seem like it's paying off at the moment. I'm just very disappointed and I- yeah, well, I hate the car.''

The reporter in front of her wasn't used to the visible pessimism of the female driver. Y/N was known for her cheerful and up-beat character, always open for a chat and ready to take on any challenge. That figure seemed to be missing at the moment.

''I hope it gets better for you, Y/N. You're an amazing driver and I wish you good luck for the next race weekend, thank you so much for talking to us.'' Nathalie rounds up the interview before signalling to her cameraman to stop the filming.

Y/N was about to leave, but a gentle grab of her wrist stopped her. ''Hey, darling- don't let this get you down, alright? There are many people rooting for you here, me included, and we all want to see you do well. You have incredible talent and we know these lasts results aren't a reflection of that.''

The Sky Sports presenter had a soft spot for the young woman ever since her arrival to the paddock. Nathalie has always been amazed by Y/N's ability to shrug off all the sexist remarks and to prove the people that doubt her wrong.

''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' The soft smile on Y/N's face was a fake one, even a child could spot that. However, her words and gratefulness were genuine and that's all that mattered to Nathalie.

The driver moved quickly between the different journalists, not in the mood for the long and lovely chats that would have happened had she crossed the chequered flag. ''If one more person reminds me of all the DNF's, I'm going to knock myself out with one of these microphones.'' She mumbled to her team's press officer, making the woman laugh but also look at Y/N with a bit of concern.

Luckily for her, all the media responsible people must have listened to her prayers and went easy on her- maybe sensing her agitation and worsened mood. She and her press officer moved back to the team's hospitality, where a dreaded team briefing would take place.

''Obviously these aren't the results that we want. We want wins, podiums and points.'' Her team principal started off the meeting, standing at the head of the table. ''It is clear that changes need to be made, whether that be the car, the strategy or the driver even.'' The eyes of the team shifted from their leader to the young woman staring daggers at him.

''It's not my fault that the fucking engine blows up or that another drivers decides he wants to play bumper cars.'' Y/N defended herself, not seeing why she should be replaced.

He shook his head. ''I didn't say it was your fault, but we have to look at all the options and that includes you, Y/N.'' The man clarified, taking a deep breath.

The woman rolled her eyes, causing Marco to send her a stern look that said ''Please, don't make this harder on yourself.'' She got his sign and sat up straight in her chair, figuring her slumping didn't give off a great impression.

The briefing continued for another hour, going over all the alternatives they had and all the work they had to do while waiting for the next race weekend. ''Alright- thank you, everyone! Have a great break.'' The team principal dismissed the team.

Y/N was the first one to get up and leave, debating if she would slam the door, but she didn't want a Kevin x Guenther moment with her boss.

By the time she was on her way to her hotel, most fans had gone home themselves and the paddock was occupied by crew members cleaning the place up. Y/N had a slow pace while walking, not in any hurry to leave the circuit.

''You're going back to the hotel?'' A voice behind her spoke up, making the female driver yelp as she didn't expect someone to walk up on her.

Y/N turned around, Lando looking at her with a grin. ''Did I scare you?'' He laughed, finding amusement in making his friend flinch.

''You could have been a serial killer for all I know, you idiot.'' She slapped his arm, the tension leaving her body as it was only Lando and not some creep.

''Only on track.'' He winked.

The young woman frowned at his action. ''Please, never do that again.'' Her feigned disgust with his wink resulted in a light push from her friend.

''So… you're going to the hotel now?'' Lando asked her again, not having received an answer yet.

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, I could use some sleep before the flight tomorrow.''

''You, uh, wanna take a car together to the hotel? You know- that way we're not wasting gas, I guess.'' He nervously asked, mumbling the question almost under his breath.

''Sure,'' Y/N chuckled, ''Seb will be proud of us.''

They decided to take his car as she wasn't in the mood to drive anymore and Lando didn't seem to mind. She was grateful for Lando's company, at least her bad day would end on a good note.

''Sorry about the race today, I know you could have done more.'' Despite being competitors, they were also great friends and it's not fun seeing your friends have bad results.

Y/N sighed. ''My team- they're, uh, thinking about replacing me.'' She wanted to get her worries off of her chest and Lando bringing up the race seemed like the perfect oppurtunity for it.

''What?'' He exclaimed, not anticipating that sentence to come out of her mouth.

''They say they just have to think about all the changes they could make to get better results, but they've been talking an awful lot about the junior drivers so I'm just preparing myself for it.'' She clarified for him, resting her head against the window.

Lando let her words sink in. ''They- they can't possibly do that, you're one of the best drivers on the grid.'' It came out louder than he intended, but the thought of one of his best friends not being with him on track anymore upsets him.

''They can do that,'' she sarcastically chuckled, ''I'm impressed I lasted this long- I just know the FIA will be throwing a party now that they don't have to be feminists anymore.''

''What do you mean 'lasted'? You're not going anywhere, we have enough races left where you can show your true skills.'' Lando took his eyes off the road to look her in the eye, perhaps wanting her to see how serious he was.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to talk about it any further.

The car stopped in front of a red light. ''Hey,'' Lando put his hand on top of hers, ''I'm being serious. We've been racing against each other for over 10 years now- you're a good driver. You'll probably be a World Champion one day.''

''You really mean that?'' Her usual confident demeanour had been traded in for an insecure one, her voice coming out smaller than normal.

He chuckled, nodding his head. ''Of course, I wouldn't lie to you.'' The gentle way he was looking at her assured her that he was in fact being serious and meant everything he said.

''Thank you,'' Y/N turned her hand and squeezed Lando's, ''now, shut up and drive me to the hotel!'' She pushed his hand away. ''Enough of this emo shit.''

''This is the one time I am being nice to you and you just reject my love.''

''Stop being so emotional, Norris.''

''There she is!'' Daniel loudly announced as Y/N stepped onto the plane, his hands up in the air.

She tiredly waved at everyone, exhausted from the lack of sleep she had gotten. The young woman groggily sat down next to her Australian colleague, Michael sitting in front of them.

Daniel snickered at her disoriented state. ''Good morning to you, mate.'' He greeted her, his infamous bright smile on his face.

''It's fucking early, what are you so happy about?'' She mumbled, while trying to find a good sleeping position.

''I'm grateful that I get to live another beautiful day, Y/N! We don't appreciate our existence enough, we need to-''

''I'll be grateful for my life when you shut up and let me sleep.'' She interrupted him, closing her eyes and pulling her hat slightly over her face.

The McLaren driver opted for another teasing comment, but he could see the obvious exhaustion she had going on and let her be, a light pat on the shoulder working as his way to say ''have a good nap''.

About an hour later the turbulence of the plane woke her up from her much needed sleep. Y/N took her hat off and noticed Daniel still awake, scrolling on his phone while listening to music through his headphones.

A soft push against his arm brought his attention from his device to the woman next to him, immediately smiling upon seeing that she's awake. ''Sleepyhead.''

The beam on his face slowly changed into a nervous frown, worrying his friend. ''What is it? The reality of life finally settled in?'' Y/N awkwardly said, trying to cheer him up.

''No, uh, it's just that uhm interview you did with Nathalie yesterday- I watched it.'' He answered, sympathy written all over his face.

''Oh,'' she sat up straight in her seat, ''well, you know it was just after the race so obviously I was very frustrated. You know how it is.'' The driver tried to come off as nonchalant, failing horribly.

''Lando told me, Y/N.'' Daniel revealed, wanting her to drop the 'it's not a big deal'-act.

She sighed. ''Oh, that little snake.'' She muttered under her breath.

''No, I'm glad that he told me. He said he's never seen you so defeated and the way you were talking to Nathalie- you haven't given up, have you?'' Daniel had seen how her recent race results had affected her, but he wasn't aware how deep her frustrations and insecurities had settled in.

Her silence to his question was an answer in itself.

''You've been working your ass off since you were like what? 5-6? You're not gonna throw all of that away just because of 3 bad races, right? That's nothing like you.'' The Australian ranted, baffled over her ruined confidence.

Y/N glanced outside her window, seeing they were high above the clouds. ''I'm not throwing anything away, it's just… my teams seems to have already made up their mind and are just waiting on the right time to tell me that someone else is taking my place.'' The young woman clarified, her words not helping Daniel's growing worries.

''They would be fucking idiots to replace you, you know that.'' He sneered, rolling his eyes at the thought of another person driving in her seat.

She weakly chuckled at his response, not finding much humour in the insult to her bosses.

Daniel's shoulder gently pushed against hers. ''Hey, maybe you need to talk to Seb or Lewis, they're better at this pep-talk shit than I am.'' He suggested, figuring the two older men might have more of an influence on her.

Y/N let his words process for a few seconds, considering seeking a listening ear in either of the world champions. ''I- I don't know, Dan. They probably have better things to do.''

''Like what?''

''I don't fucking know- planting trees, feeding Roscoe, whatever.'' She blurted out, making both of them laugh at the random activities they could be doing.

''Just think about it, I think you'd feel a lot better after talking to one of them.'' Daniel didn't want to push her, knowing it would have the opposite effect on what he wanted for her.

A tired smile made its way onto her face. ''I will, thank you.''

''Good,'' his face mirrored hers, ''and if they do replace you, they're just like Netflix.''

''Like Netflix?''

''A bunch of cunts.''

''I've never seen her that quiet.'' Sebastian mumbled to the Brit next to him, observing the young woman who sat slumped over in her chair.

Lewis looked over at her, being as equally bewildered as his German colleague. ''I don't blame her, all the stuff they've been saying about her is awful.'' He whispered back.

''What do you mean?'' Sebastian frowned.

The Mercedes driver uncomfortably shifted in his head, leaning more towards his friend. ''People have been saying a lot of shit on social media and those fucking annoying journalists certainly don't help. Also, that interview their team principal did.''

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the mention. ''Hanna showed me, that was so out of line. He knows people have been wanting her out since the day she got in- shame on him for making all of that so public.''

Her team principal had given a quite lengthy interview over the break between the race weekends, publicising the team's problems and their possible solutions, which included a hint to a potential driver change-up.

''None of the DNF's were even her fault, it's absolutely ridiculous.'' The slander on her name greatly upset Lewis, aware of the talent she possessed and it made him angry that there was even a chance that she might not be on the grid with them the next year.

''I know and it has taken such a toll on her, Daniel said he talked to her, but I'm a little worried.'' The Aston Martin driver told Lewis, his puzzled look turning into one of sadness.

The Brit scratched his voice. ''Maybe you can give her some confidence? You've known her for a long time, I'm sure she'll appreciate it.''

Sebastian slowly nodded his head, figuring the World Champion might be right. ''Yeah, I'll talk to her later.'' He confirmed, still watching the obvious daydreaming woman from across the room.

The driver's briefing went on for about half an hour more, the director seeing the visible boredom on every person's face and calling it a day for everyone.

Y/N couldn't have been more relieved that the meeting was finally over, wanting nothing more than going back to her own hospitality and figuring out ways to make the car work, and actually finish this time around.

She was one of the last people to leave the briefing room, only George, Lewis and Sebastian walking behind her. The latter tapping her shoulder. ''Hey, haven't talked to you today.''

''Yeah, lots of briefings with the team, you know.'' The younger one responded, giving him a quick glance.

''How's that going?''

The woman remained silent for a few moments, considering how much she should tell her mentor about the current state of her place in the team. ''Uhm, well, it's going… decent, I guess.'' Y/N muttered, trailing off.

''Decent?'' Sebastian repeated, as if asking ''are you serious?''

''There are like a bunch of reporters around us, what do you want me to say?'' She replied, a defensive tone to her voice.

The German patted her back, sensing her agitation. ''It's okay, let's discuss somewhere private.'' He calmed her down, suggesting a different place to have a conversation.

''Okay.''

They opted for her personal driver's home, that being the closest space where they could talk with just the two of them. Some of her team's staff had given the Aston Martin driver some weird looks while they walked through the hospitality, but he brushed them off.

The pair sat down on her small couch once they arrived, not much space between them.

Y/N felt some nerves settling in her stomach as she waited for Seb to start speaking, not knowing what he was going to tell her.

''I'm just gonna be straightforward,'' he started off, ''you can't continue with this attitude, cause you're only setting yourself up. You are a great driver, Y/N. We all have our off weeks, we're not perfect.''

''I understand that this isn't a nice situation to be in. Trust me, this green vegetable that I'm driving isn't doing much better at the moment,'' he chuckled, making her crack a smile, ''but if there's one person that can completely turn their season around, it's you.''

Y/N avoided eye-contact with him, not sure how to respond to his kind and encouraging words. ''I appreciate that, Seb. I'm not giving up, it's just… very difficult and people are constantly bringing it up, and making articles and shit- that doesn't help me at all. I'm still gonna do my best, but… yeah- it's just difficult.''

''I know it's hard and I've heard the media has been hard on you. That's what they do and they see you as an easier target for clicks and whatnot,'' Sebastian rolled his eyes at his own mention of the media, ''But you're better than believing their words.''

''You are a talented driver, you have so much potential. Do you think I would have spent all these years with you if I thought you shouldn't be in F1?'' He asked her, a look on his face that told her he wanted an answer.

The young woman timidly shook her head. ''No, you wouldn't have done that.''

Sebastian smiled at her response. ''See?'' He put his arm around her, pulling her closer into him. ''Whether you believe it or not, you're leading this new generation. You're a decent car away from being a World Champion, you know that right?''

''Did you talk to Lando? He also said that.'' Y/N nervously grinned.

''Just accept the truth!'' The German squeezed her shoulders. ''You've proven that you can do anything. You don't want to let down all those young girls that started karting because of you, right? What message would it send to all of them that their role model quit, because she got bumped off the road or her car simply decided to turn itself off.''

''You're right,'' she sighed, admitting to herself she needed to drop the pessimistic attitude, ''I don't just owe it to myself, but also to them.''

Sebastian nodded along to her words, letting out a deep breath. ''I'm relieved you're seeing it, I don't like seeing you like this. It's weird not seeing you smile or making fun of the drivers.'' He smirked, patting her shoulder.

''I guess everyone deserved an off-day, tomorrow I'll start again.'' Y/N grinned, laughing at Sebastian's reminder of her fondness to poke fun at their colleagues.

The senior driver gave her one last squeeze and stood up from the couch, adjusting his pants. ''No more frowns, alright? You're gonna do great this weekend and you're gonna show everyone why you deserve your seat.''

Y/N nodded, more confident than when she first walked back into her driver's room. ''Yes, I'm gonna do my best, Seb.''

They bumped their fists as if to solidify it was going to be a great race weekend for them both.

''And go easy on me tomorrow with the teasing.''

''I'd rather be run off the track again then let that happen.''

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#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #f1 x you #f1 oc #lando norris x you #daniel ricciardo x you #sebastian vettel x you #formula 1 fic #female f1 driver

3K notes · View notes

moo-blogging · 3 months ago

Note

some stuff about canon levi confessing? I picture he wouldn’t confess in words or something like that, but i’d really like to hear what you think. loved the pda story about him btw. thank u so much

Canon Levi is seen as cold, quiet, stoic, but very observant and caring toward others when you least expected it.

Nobody could tell that the infamously strict Captain Levi was in love. I mean, who had the guts to stare at his face as his eyes lingered on you slightly longer as you marched past him, or questioned that the Captain insisted you to make tea for the entire team and gave minimal comments on how you could improve your tea brewing skills. Not a single living soul saw Captain Levi in his office rehearsing the conversation he wanted to have with you before he sent Eren to get you. But in the end, he only asked you to carry the reports to Commander Erwin's office because he stuttered.

Levi didn't care about what he was wearing. He had his uniform jacket on most of the time anyway. But it caught his eyes whenever you wore a new shirt or a pair of new pants. His brows frowned when other guy cadets complimented your new clothes, but he couldn't bring himself to tell you you looked better in the old light blue shirt you got months ago.

So he did what he did best. He trained you hard. Only when you were dangling on the maneuver gear with your legs lifted from the ground, Levi could bark orders to you freely.

Go faster! Please survive.

Take sharp turns, pull back your strings and push yourself with the gas pressure! Come back with me.

Make sure you check your gas level before you get on your horse. Come back to me. Please.

Levi studied your postures, your fighting habits, and your careless mistakes. His tongue spitted the most venomous words, but his eyes pouring the deepest worries and concerns he had for you.

No, Levi couldn't say those words to you. He couldn't tell you how much he wanted to touch your skin, or hold your hands, or pull you into his arms. But when the nights got extra difficult to go through alone, Levi sat with you in silence. The fire crackling softly. Your mind somewhere else in the skies. Your body felt too heavy to move. Levi sat there, quietly replacing cold tea with warm ones, waiting patiently for you to drink it. And when you did, the warm tea flowed through your chest, and you exhaled deeply. Your shoulders finally dropped and you were ready to take on another day. Levi's heart eased too. How could you realise that he too held a breath for so long and let it go the moment you let yours go too? You wouldn't see how his brows softened when you told him you felt better and his tea soothed your soul. He said "clean up the table before breakfast, brat" but he meant "don't go where i can't follow".

It wasn't until Eren came back and awakened all the titans in the wall, Paradise Island went into a chaotic state. The Yeagerists took over the military HQ and declared that Hange and Levi had died. Heartbroken and shocked from the news, you hid away as they celebrated the beginning of a new era. You wandered into Levi's office, quietly going through his things before those untamed young cadets destroy it for no reason.

Beneath a stack of death certificates of the cadets who used to be in the same tea with Levi, you found a photograph you took in Marley. It was a group photo that Hange insisted on getting. But you noticed that there was a heart shaped hole on where your face was supposed to be. And then it hit you. Levi kept you in a locket and brought it with him to war.

Tears streamed down your face. Your heart ached and you struggled to breath. Grabbing on the edges of the photograph, you blinked the tears away, trying your best to look at Levi in the photograph. His brows were not frown, he seemed relaxed, like he had planned to keep you in the locket all this while. As if he was saying, "you found my secret, brat."

When it was all over, and the night sky was bright with stars, you sat next to Levi with his tea brewing by the side. Levi pulled the locket from his breast pocket and gently dropped it in your palm. You knew what was inside, but you were still surprised to see your face untouched even touch the locket was dented. Stuttering, Levi asked "may I..?" He needed to ask. He was a gentleman. "Yes," you needed to tell him because he deserved a clear confirmation. He rested his rough palm on yours. You leaned against his shoulder, and you both exhaled in relief.

The stars had finally aligned.

#ok its 12.43am #i need to sleep #my thought is going nowhere #thanks for asking beautiful stranger #love you #levi ackerman #levi fluff #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou #levi x y/n #midnight thoughts #levi x you #aot x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi drabbles #moo writes after a long long time

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cryingat300kph · 6 months ago

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Pretty Thing

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Boytoy!Mechanic!Reader

(Bad) Summary: When Ferrari gets a new pretty boy for a mechanic a certain 4x world champion takes notice.

Rating: M Warning(s): Mentions of sex, but no actual sex. Cursing. Use of Y/N. Allusion to homophobia in sports. F slur (but in a self-descriptive and reclaimed way) -Not Proofread-

Length: 1.4K Words

A/N: This is Seb in his chaotic flirt Ferrari era, like 1st/2nd year at Ferrari vibes. Also the ending is kinda cut off because I lost steam, but wanted to put something out. Let me know if ya’ll want this continued, I have ideas ;) <3

“Lewis look, that’s who I was talking about.” Seb says poking Lewis’s arm gesturing towards the bar. “Him?!” Lewis asks turning back to Seb. “Yeah.” Seb suppresses the urge to add Isn’t he pretty? “Damn I'm surprised they would hire a mechanic so-“ “so gay?” Sebastian supplies. “Heh-Yeah.” “Well he usually doesn’t look like that.” Seb says again gesturing towards the man.

The “that” Seb is referring to is the absolute twink uniform you are wearing. You might as well be wearing a flashing sign reading “I like dick! ;)” And Sebastian thinks you look completely and utterly delectable; more than usual.

He’d had his eyes on you since you joined the team at the top of the year. At first he noticed you because were young for someone not on the PR team, and far too handsome to not be in a more front-facing role. He was glad he was known to make sure to get to know all new members of the Ferrari family, because it meant he could satisfy this curiosity; finding out you had climbed the ladder at the factory quickly and had always wanted nothing more than to be in the garage track-side.

His interest in you only grew as he got to know you better. He knew obviously that as a mechanic you weren’t just a pretty face, but he soon found out you weren’t just either of those things. But someone who was extremely funny, kind and just as much of a nerd about racing as he was.

And so, a friendship slightly-beyond coworkers started to form. Now, at halfway through the season you two could be called proper friends, but your friendship is still very tied to work. Either way, you feel comfortable around Seb, comfortable enough to speak freely of your interests and life outside of racing. However, one thing he doesn’t know about you was that you don’t mind sharing a bed with a man.

Its hard being queer in formula one. It’s 2015 and huge strides have been made, but motorsports lags behind. Especially as someone who is involved in a more “masculine” job at Ferrari you keeps your more flamboyant tendencies under wraps. European ideas of masculinity help a lot, but it’s still a bit lonely, stressful and draining, to be closeted.

Hence why you’re here.

It had been a stressful race weekend, but Seb ultimately got podium and everyone was rightfully really happy and the team planned to go for drinks with the winning Mercedes team.

Seb had protested a bit when you said you thought you’d sit this one out. “I would, trust me, but I’ve had this headache all day and I doubt a hangover will make it any better.” You lied. He had seemed to come back to himself, like his earlier protest was a slip. Laughing it off. “You’re right, go, rest. We need your brain intact!”

You had chuckled at that saying bye to him and driving back to the hotel to get changed before heading out for your real plans. You felt bad lying to Seb but after this weekend a guy needed some attention damn it! But most importantly you wanted to dress how you want and exist how you want for once even just for a couple of hours.

---

Without you at the party Sebastian is more melancholy than usual. He's cursing himself for crushing like a teenager, but without you there he’s lost interest. “Dude is this about the guy you told me about.” Lewis asks seeing Seb is obviously down about something. “what? no- it” “Where is he? Go talk to him!" “He’s not here, had a headache so he stayed back.” “Well you don’t seem to be having fun so go after him, just ask to hang out.” “But the team, i should-.” “Kimi is enough of a party for the team, he’d probably enjoy the company.” Lewis nudges him. “You know why I can’t Lewis.” Seb says seriously. “Yeah.” Lewis agrees and they’re silent for a bit before he speaks up again, mischief in his voice. “But maybe we could find some other entertainment for the night. To quell the ache?” “What are you suggesting?” Seb asks suspicious. “There’s a bar a couple blocks from here. Heard its a discreet spot, good for cruising.” He says like he’s stating the weather and not suggesting the two biggest F1 drivers at the moment go cruising for gay sex.“What if someone sees us.” “we’re in America, no one knows who we are.” And Seb is just tipsy enough, and yearning to fuck a stranger and imagine it’s you, so he agrees.

“Let’s do it!”

---

And so, Sebastian now finds himself at a loss for words, staring at you. At you, sipping a cocktail, half sitting on a bar stool, your back slightly arched. Honestly the picture is so inviting. Lewis is just looking at him with a smirk.

Sebastian sees that a couple men obviously have their eyes on you too. He watches as the bartender hands you a drink gesturing to one of the said men. You look over and the man starts to get up. Seb feels his fists tighten, but he relaxes when you hand the drink back to the bartender looking at the man apologetically. He’s glad the man gets the idea and sits back down, Seb doesn’t want to think what he would have done if the man had persisted.

Wait, so maybe you’re just out for a nice night alone, he doesn’t want to disturb that. But dressed like that? He’s having a hard time resisting.

“Lewis what do I do?” He asks. “The flirt is asking me?“ Lewis scoffs, but when Seb just looks at him annoyed, he Chuckles; he’s never seen the confident man so nervous before. “Just, go get him tiger.”

He knows it’s now or never, so Sebastian goes to the opposite end of the bar and tells the bartender to get you a drink.

-- The bartender hands you another drink. It’s top shelf which catches your eye. A couple men have bought you shots and stuff throughout the night but so far when the bartender pointed to who they all weren’t your type. Or they quickly stopped being your type the moment they opened their mouths.

When you ask who, this time, the bartender cocks his head to the end of the bar. You look over and it’s Sebastian! Your eyes go wide, unsure of what to do. What is he doing here?! Here, where you are looking like a complete faggot and nothing like you do at work. But he’s your friend right, he would’ve found out eventually and he just bought you a drink?

You tamp down the flicker of hope that tries to spark. So you just smile and raise the drink to him raising your eyebrows. It’s friendly coworker shit right? He’s just being nice. Your brain is forced to stop working overtime when he approaches you and starts speaking.

“I could barely recognize you y/n!” He says smiling and friendly, but with a hint of something? And he is blatantly looking you up and down. Tongue between his teeth. Oh. You can’t help lighting up despite being nervous. “Well let’s just say the Ferrari uniform is not my personal style.” You joke. “This definitely suits you much better.” He blatantly flirts, which catches you bit off guard, but you try not to show it, excitement now replacing your nerves. “You think the boss will let me wear a crop top to work?” “Maybe I could ask him nicely.” Sebastian says and then leans closer.

“Having something so pretty in my garage can only bring me good luck right?” “Oh, I don’t think you need luck, Seb.” You laugh because now you are definitely blushing.

“Every driver needs luck.” He says low.

The way he's looking at you. It’s almost too much. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. In the span of a few minutes you’ve basically come out to a coworker turned friend, but also discovered that apparently Sebastian Vettel, Ferrari driver, four time world champion also likes men. And now said Ferrari driver and friend is flirting with you.

You can't wait to see where the night goes.

#to be continued?#my writing #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x male reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #sebastian vettel x reader #Sebastian vettel x male!reader #sv5 x reader #sv5 #sv5 fanfic

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spectres-n-soap · 8 months ago

Text

Times Long Since Past - Soap x You x Ghost

Content Warnings - Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, therapy, pregnancy

A/N - Not gonna lie when I say I nearly cried writing this part.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The therapy office was located in a strip mall that had obviously once been a 1950s era housing estate in the past. You glance around the parking lot before Simon places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you from whatever pit you were trying to sink into. “Don’t stress.” He mutters and you roll your eyes.

“When in the history of the world did that ever make someone not stress?” You ask and he shakes his head but you can see his eyes crinkle just slightly. You sigh and look at the general area where the office was as your hand rests on your stomach. “Do you really think this will help?”

Simon nods, “It helps.” You sigh again before you nod and begin walking towards the office. A bell jingles over the door when you enter the office, Simon not far behind you and keeps the door open for you so it doesn’t bang into you. The receptionist smiles at you, a well practiced kind smile as she gestures for you to come forward. The waiting room was comfortable, only one other person sat in one of the chairs mindlessly flipping through the magazines.

“Name?” The woman asks and you try not to let the happiness in her voice grate on your soul. Would you be happy like her again? You give her your name and she nods as she types it into the computer, “Date of birth?” You mindlessly rattle it off and give her the time of your appointment (in fifteen minutes) and she smiles at you, “Alright, if you could fill out these forms,” She passes the forms on a clipboard with a pen. “And take a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly.”

You waddle over to the nearest seat and sit down before you start to fill out the form. Its basic questions and you recognize them all from your psych evals in the military. You bite your cheek before you begin to fill them out truthfully. When you finish, you hand the clipboard back to the receptionist and sit back down.

The therapist is nice. Clinically nice. You want to scream and rage as he calmly asks questions about what brought you here. His voice is perfectly level and you can’t even use it as an excuse for the reason you think he’s judging you. “It's not my job to judge, it's my job to help.” He says when you hesitate to answer.

“I lost someone very close to me.” You answer, picking over the words carefully because you and Johnny hadn’t put a label on it before he had died. Your stomach lurches at that sudden thought and you squeeze your hands into fists.

“I see. Was this person the father of your child?” He asks and you nod tightly. The thought still leaves an awful taste in your mouth.

“He died in action.” You take in a shaky breath, “He didn’t even know.”

“Let's start there. If at any moment you feel uncomfortable we can stop this session.”

You leave not feeling better or worse but like a small weight had been lifted from your chest. As you walk back out into the waiting room with the therapist, talking about the date of your next appointment you see Simon. You freeze, having totally forgotten he had promised to wait for you the entire time. He inclines his head at you and you're brought crashing back into reality.

You climb into his car and as he turns it on he offers to buy some lunch. “Got any cravings?”

“I’m pregnant. Of course I have cravings.” You grumble, “Mexican food. From this little hole in the wall place.” He hands you his phone, which is all kinds of busted up but the screen still works so he hasn’t replaced it yet, for you to type the address into.

You take a seat at one of the outside tables and a young man hands you both a small menu. The smell from inside the restaurant makes your stomach rumble and apparently the baby is into the smell too because they kick at your stomach. Hard.

You wince and bow your head a little as you hiss out a “ Fuck. ” You don’t see the way panic shoots through Simon but you feel his hand grab yours. You don’t pull away.

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?” He asks and you shake your head.

“The baby just decided to do some kickboxing, no big deal.” You let out a tight laugh that hardly seems to convince Simon. “Simon, I’ll tell you if it hurts okay? Promise.” Those words seem to put at ease and the arrival of your waiter draws attention from the way his ears turn pink.

Lunch is quiet between the two of you after that moment partially helped by the way you sort of shovel the food into your mouth. You can’t help the small moan that leaves you as you bite into enchilada and Simon coughs on the sweet soda he had been drinking.

You and Simon arrive back at your flat, takeout box in hand because your eyes were bigger than your stomach and you had ordered another enchilada and he places it in your fridge as you settle down onto the couch. Exhaustion pulls at you despite the good sleep you had gotten last night and you hardly notice when Simon places the throw blanket on your lap.

“You know… you still have some gifts to open.” Simon mutters and you look at him with bleary eyes and make a noise of confusion before you look at what he has in his hands. The gifts from the MacTavish family. Your stomach sinks and your throat closes up at the sight. You sniffle but reach for one of the soft green green eyes.

Inside the first one is a little soft green dinosaur onesie and a few baby books. One of the books has a couple of lullabies and nursery rhymes. The other is easy recipes to make during the first couple months with the baby. More onesies in the next one, soft blues, pinks and yellows, a teddy bear and a card with a heartfelt message from his sisters. Of course a few items such as a milk pump and a diaper bag are already filled to the brim with items.

Just as you think you’ve finished opening everything, Simon hands you a card and one more bag. “The cards from Mrs. MacTavish, the bag is from me.” He clarifies although he really didn’t need to. The bag was a soft gray. You open his gift first and genuinely laugh when it's a onesie with little skulls. You shake your head at his gift before you set it to the side. You carefully pull the card from the envelope it was in and open it. A couple pictures fall onto your lap but you read the message first.

My bairn was a lot of trouble during those first few months. I hope yours doesn’t come with the same mischief for the sake of both of you. I know there is nothing I can say to ease the pain or the hole that Johnny left in you but you’re not alone. You’ve been given a beautiful gift whether he knew it or not. You’ll always have a piece of my wee boy and you’ll always be welcome in my home. I’ve made a few copies of pictures of when Johnny was a wee bairn for you. Welcome to the MacTavish family.

You glance down at the pictures, tears in your eyes as you look through them. You couldn’t help the small laugh that left you at one of the pictures. Chubby baby Johnny pouting in his chosen outfit but the others make tears fall from your eyes. You rub your thumb over one of the photos of him smiling up at the camera, chubby hands holding his foot up.

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kings-highway · 17 days ago

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iwaizumi and oikawa, a year and a half into their first true separation. iwaizumi in america, and oikawa in argentina. you see, they’ve had this thing going on since they were young children, when iwaizumi went to a sleep-away summer camp and the only way oikawa could talk to him was through letters. they got into the habit of writing over-the-top, fancy, kamakura-period type letters. since moving away from each other, it’s only gotten more intense.

less of a joke, really. they text each other often, but the letters - there is something about it, to oikawa. when he writes his letters, he fills it with love and adoration that he never conveys in his text message. he kisses the page before he folds it, right on the edges where he expects iwaizumi to grip the paper. oikawa has never told iwaizumi his affections, so he knows this is as close as he will ever get.

both of them already had a somewhat strong grasp on the english language during high school, but since moving to the americas, oikawa has become much better with alphabet and has learned quite a bit of english grammar by proxy of studying spanish AND receiving iwaizumi’s letters. iwaizumi has become far better at the language, pretty much fluent on survival alone.

so, it happens on a normal tuesday afternoon. oikawa gets back from practice to check his p.o. box, since he’s expecting an online delivery. he finds the package, but also an envelope with his name carefully penned in the english alphabet. he smiles, carefully holding it so he doesn’t crease any of lines.

he settles into a chair, his heart pounding as he opens the letter. it’s entirely in english, as he’s expected. his letters to iwaizumi are mostly in spanish; though, sometimes, he sends them in japanese. if just to remind himself of home.

it doesn’t take him long to find it. he reads it, the first line of the letter, over and over again. his name, written with a “dearest” before it, as per usual. that’s how they wrote to each other, after all. formal, overly-so. but he stops, and he reads it again and again until he’s sure he’s burned the image into his retinas.

iwaizumi has written: “My Dearest, Oikawa Tooru.”

not, “my dearest oikawa”, but, “my dearest,”. his dearest, of all.

so how long did your Hamilton an American Musical phase last?

---

“Dearest,” Iwaizumi says, coming around the corner to lower the mug of tea over Oikawa’s shoulder, down into his hands from behind him on the couch. Oikawa looks up as he does, having clearly been surprised to hear him come in. “What are you looking at?”

Oikawa smiles for him, thanking him softly for the tea before setting it aside and showing him the torn, messy line paper from their early years. Long before the love, the marriage, long before the life together settled down. Iwaizumi recognizes the words immediately - their his own, from an era that seemed like it was yesterday, despite it being barely a memory now. “Just some memories.”

“Those stupid things?” Iwa grumbles, leaning over his shoulder to read his old, embarrassing writing. “Christ, that one was like… before you moved to Argentina, you’ve really dug them up… wait, did you keep all of them?”

“Of course I did,” Oikawa replies. “As many as I could, at least. Some got damaged, or lost… But they’re the reason we’re together now, so… I couldn’t bear to throw them away.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Oikawa smiles, as if excited that he’s finally asked, and reaches to take an envelope that is far more carefully preserved, opening it delicately to slide the paper out. This one, written in English, from Iwaizumi in his university years. Oikawa carefully runs a finger across the ink, and points out the opening line.

“My Dearest, Oikawa,” Oikawa reads out loud. “You still call me that. If you hadn’t chosen to switch the placement of the comma, I never would have had the courage to confess how I’d been feeling to you. I had always thought that your… dearest joke was just because we were pretending it was the eighteen hundreds. But that… change, just…”

“Oh,” Iwa says, leaning in closer to look at the letter. “Well, now that you mention it, that is very incriminating of me. Must have been a Freudian slip.”

“...excuse me?”

“Yeah, I… had no memory of writing that like that, at least, not intentionally. The dearest think had just always made you giggle, so-”

“Wait wait wait wait-” Oikawa says, sitting up suddenly and turning to face him. “You’re saying our relationship is built on a lie? I took this letter as a hint from you that you’d felt the same about me! That you meant what you said - Oh my God, I wrote you a love letter immediately afterwards - we got together because of this letter and it was an accident all along? Ah! Pedro told me it was probably just a mistake and I told him that no, you wouldn’t do that and I-”

“Hey, hey, Tooru-” Iwa laughs, leaning forward to take him by the face, stilling his racing tongue. “Like I said, a Fruedian slip. It is how I felt, you are my dearest, you know you are, that’s why I still use it-”

“But it’s not real! Our whole relationship is a lie!”

“Dearest,” Iwa repeats, and Oikawa shuts his mouth, staring up at him with big, woeful eyes. “We’ve been married forty-three years. I don’t think our relationship is a lie. If anything, this only proves what we both already knew.”

“...and what’s that?”

“That you were always far braver than I was. The universe knew I would never get there on my own, so it gave you a reason anyway.”

Oikawa smiles slightly. “Or, that I’ve always been a little delusional.”

“And that you get what you want,” Iwaizumi adds, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu iwaoi #iwaoi #iwaizumi x oikawa

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patrophthia · 2 years ago

Text

triwizard tournament | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader

genre: fake dating, fluff, angst, pining¿?, OOC james?? basically the plot of goblet of fire if it took place during the marauders era, not proofread!

wc: 7.4K

originally posted on wattpad

"plus, you're incredibly pretty, i'm really not opposed to keep telling people we're together."

"keep?"

"yeah keep." james lifted his head up and looked at her sheepishly. "she's going to run the story which means we'll need to keep the story going, i'll pay you, anything, i'll take you to your favorite shops and buy you whatever you want, just help me with this."

"with what money?"

"with the money that i'll win from the tournament." there's that confidence. "so... yes or no?"

there was a crash somewhere close to her, before she could even look up to find out what the ruckus was about; four boys found themselves around her seat.

"i'm so sorry." a voice whispered from her left. "hey! this is my girlfriend, [name]. bug, this is amy reid."

"hi," 'amy' greeted. before she could even wrap her head around what was going on, she smiled at amy, a short brunette woman who looked roughly in her thirties. "how long have you been together?"

"since last year." one of the other boys answered.

"oh." amy turned from the boy and back to her. "how charming young love is."

"so." amy clapped her hands. it was only then did she realized that amy had someone following after, short and timid; the boy had a notepad in his hand, jotting everything down word for word. "tell me about your love story."

"my love story?" she repeated under her breath.

amy nodded frantically. "your love story of course, how you met, how you started dating, all that good stuff."

"right." she glanced to her left and was no where near surprised when she realized it was james potter, of fucking course, it was james potter who she was in this situation with. "our love story."

sitting opposite both james and her was sirius and remus with peter hovering behind them. she must've made a face, one that was amusing, seeing as sirius grinned at her once their eyes met.

"well," amy murmured. "it seems as though you don't know where to start." amy turned to the boy behind her before she turned back around. "how did you two meet?"

"we share the same classes." that wasn't a lie. "and i thought she was incredibly pretty so i asked her out." liar. "it's quiet a boring story, actually."

"and you?" amy turned to her. "what did think about james?"

"i thought he was—" annoying, loud, dramatic. "charming." amy seemed to like her answer, smiling as she turned to tell the boy to note it down verbatim. "and he was handsome too so it's a plus."

"isn't that just adorable," amy cooed, then her entire behavior shifts. "so what's your opinion about this whole triwizard tournament thing? are you worried, excited? how did you feel when you found out james would be competing?"

honestly? she didn't really give a fuck. she'd hoped that he won the tournament for hogwarts but she couldn't have cared less. "i was really worried, you know. i didn't want my boyfriend to die."

amy smiled, seemingly satisfied with her answer. "well it was nice meeting you, [name]. all though i've got to catch up with the other two contestants as well, i hope we can meet again soon."

"you too." and with that, amy and her minion left. once she was finally out of their sight, the four boys huffed out a long dramatic breath. "girlfriend, huh?"

james collapsed on the table, hiding his face in his arms. "i'm sorry." was this the confident gryffindor everyone had a crush on? "i panicked and you were the only girl i recognized, everyone else was a third year."

sirius bit his lips, hiding his laughter as james dug his head deeper and deeper into his hands. "plus, you're incredibly pretty, i'm really not opposed to keep telling people we're together."

"keep?"

"with what money?"

"with the money that i'll win from the tournament." there's that confidence. "so... yes or no?"

•••

amy did run the story. along with the story that she might or might not be one of james many lover —this was because, sirius had thought it would be funny to have the other seventh years tell reid that they've all slept with james (how he got them to agree, she didn't know).

james was the first person she saw the next morning (besides her dorm mates). he invited her to have breakfast with his friend, an invitation that she accepted and had found herself quiet fond of everyone he surrounded himself with.

they were all so . . . gryffindor. and she meant that as a compliment.

james walked her to her first class, then her second, then any other that she had after it. once dinner time came, james was the one who awaited her by the great hall.

"hi," he said once he spotted her.

"hi?" she knew they had to keep up and image but she didn't expect to be keeping it up so constantly. "what are you doing here?"

"waiting for you," he answered, james reached forward for the strap of her bag, taking it with ease and began walking into the great hall. "how was your day?"

"it was good." she then proceeded to tell him how everything went, trailing behind him as she tried to ignore the stares that followed her. "how was yours?"

james opened his mouth, an answer already at the tip of his tongue before he shut it quickly, looking perplexed. he was quiet for a second; feeling so so stupid and stunned. for, the only thing he had thought about all day was her. "it was good."

•••

the first task was coming up and with how nosy the marauders are, it was only a matter of time before they found out what the first task was: "dragons." and peter said this enthusiastically because, it was something he never thought he'd ever see in real life.

"that's easy then," said sirius, digging into some yorkshire pudding. "you can just use the conjunctivitis curse, a dragon's eyes are its weakest point."

"yeah but it could end violently," she pointed out. "what if the dragon lashed out and kills him."

"what about a broom then?" lily suggests whilst passing the salt to marlene. "if he flies fast enough, he'd be able to maneuver his way around."

"around what, though?" remus murmured. "we know that the task involves dragons. but what to do with it exactly, we have no clue."

"no matter what, i stick by it," said lily. "broom stick."

broom stick turned out to be the best method. james had gone last after he picked the hungarian horntail. from behind the tents, james wasn't able to watch his competitors —soren from beauxbatons who had gotten the welsh green and amerie from durmstrang who confronted the chinese fireball— attempts but he knew what he needed to do.

steal the golden egg from the clutches of the dragons they'd picked. james had finished the fastest, maneuvering his way around on his broomstick like lily had suggested.

once the tournament wrapped up, amy reid spared no moment before she started bombarding him with questions. how did you feel? was it ecstatic? how does it feel to be the best? and when [name] went down to see him, why isn't your girlfriend giving you a celebratory kiss?

"uhm—" what the fuck does one say to that "—we're not comfortable with showing much PDA."

amy frowned. "oh c'mon you two look great together, it's only just the couple of us. just a kiss for the front page shouldn't matter."

james looked at her skeptically, pushing his glasses upwards. "i don't think us kissing has anything to do with the task i've just finished."

"it doesn't," amy concurred. "but the viewers wants to know more about to the two of you. you've only said that you were together but no single living person have seen the two of you on a date. we're starting to suspect that you're faking it."

"then kissing wouldn't make a difference," remus chirped in. "wouldn't the viewers just make up some crap about them kissing just for the sake of faking it."

"i suppose they could," amy said, smiling patronizingly. "but why should we risk it when you two are so obviously in love."

"it's—" remus sputtered but it was obviously that he had no counter argument.

james only shook his head, stopping remus and took a step forward. he leaned in slowly and with his voice low, lips brushing against her ear. "can i kiss you?"

he waited, one, two, three seconds, before she nodded. james head tilted backwards the slightest bit before his lips crashed onto her. his arm snuck around her waist and held onto her, bringing her close to his chest almost desperately. his lips lingered until finally, the camera clicked and he pulled away.

and, with a twist of her stomach, she was bitterly reminded that this was all for show.

•••

"wait—" her desk partner called after her, his hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her in her place. "wait, please."

so she did, she waited and turned to face him. standing six feet tall, looking as bright as a golden retriever, smiling his best smile, and her new desk mate. soren edmé. her 'boyfriends' competitor.

"there's the uhm—" he paused, hand scratching the back of his neck shyly. he was handsome, extremely so, handsome enough to rival dorian gray himself. "the yule ball. would you like to go?"

"together?"

"yes -uhm, yes together." his accent was oddly enough, extremely welsh despite coming from france. "as a date."

fuck. on any other day she'd have said yes with no hesitation, but when you're in a relationship —albeit a fake one, with the competitor of the person who was asking you out on a date. saying yes is just straight out betrayal.

"oh." soren sounded deflated and she hadn't even replied yet, was her face really that expressive? "you already have a date, don't you? potter right?"

at her nod, soren smiled softly, accepting his rejection with grace. gosh, he's basically blond sirius.

soren bit her goodbye, muttering something about the golden egg and quickly rushed to catch up with his friends.

she made her way out as well, meeting marlene in the hallways as she greeted her with a large grin. "guess who just got a date for the yule ball."

"lily?" she teased.

"har har you're so funny," marlene said with a roll of her eyes. "anyways, i asked dorcas and she said yes! isn't that just adorable?"

"it sure is," said lily, joining the two of them as they passed by. "it was getting unbearable with how much you were pining after her."

"anyways." lily handed her wand to marlene and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. "have you gotten a date yet?"

"no, i'm waiting on james to ask." she made sure not to mention a single thing about soren.

"why don't you just ask him?" said marlene easily, handing lily her wand back. "why wait?"

because, she wouldn't be able to handle rejection as elegantly as soren did. "asking's too much work. i'll just wait."

"what about you, lils?"

lily shrugged. "a pretty french boy asked me to go with him," she said easily, once she noticed the look on their faces, she quickly clarified. "laurent, his name is laurent, he's as handsome as his friends. he's nice too, so i said yes."

"so you both got dates then?"

"and you." marlene looked at her with false sympathy. "nothing."

"actually, i got asked—"

"what are you pretty ladies talking about?" cut in james. he had his glasses off, opting them out for contact lenses. why he chose to do so? she didn't know.

"yule ball dates." said both lily and marlene.

james' brows raised dramatically. "really?" ignoring the daggers marlene stated through him. "must've slipped my mind."

"aren't you going to ask her to be your date?" no more subtleties then. thanks lily. "she's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

"about that." james drawled, a hint of a smile lingering on his lips. and as she thought he was going to ask, she watched him patiently. "i'm not going with you."

right.

of course.

why would he?

it's not like they were actually together. this was for show and that was all to it.

one for the money. two for the show. james was getting ready so she should let him go.

she hadn't planned to ask him furthermore. she already knew why he didn't want to go with her but if she had planned to. marlene beat her to it. "why not?"

"don't you need a date to the ball? you're a triwizard champion and all?" lily added on.

"i never said i didn't have a date," said james.

it shouldn't have bothered her, really, it shouldn't have. and yet, she couldn't help but feel —for the lack of better words— stupid for expecting other wise. of course, james potter of all people wouldn't go to the yule ball with her. he was the leading man after all.

"then what's about [name]?" lily asked, eyes wide with offense. "you're just going to leave her alone?"

"she doesn't mind." james turned to her. "do you?"

"no." she shook her head. "it's nothing, of course i don't mind."

•••

"aren't you coming with us?" jolene asked as she got ready to start the day. "don't you need to pick out a dress for the ball?"

"no." not when she had no plans in attending it in the first place. "i don't want to go."

"why not?" jolene moved away from her own vanity and onto her bed. "this happens once every eternity, how can you not go."

"i just—" am dreading seeing james with someone else, dreading being near his mere presence. "—don't want to."

"not a good enough reason," jolene told her. "you're coming with us to buy a dress, and you're coming with us to that god forsaken ball."

jolene was persistent, she knew that for a fact. and now, as she stood in front of rack stacked with pretty dresses, she was once again reminded about just how persistent jolene was.

"how about this one?" she lifted up a blue dress that was mostly made from tool and lace. "it's pretty."

"it also looks like her tits could pop out any second," rose (their other roommate, and jolene's long term girl friend) murmured, dismissing it with a wave of hand. "why don't you just let her pick something for herself?"

"because, she won't," jolene said sharply. "she's convinced herself that she doesn't want to go. where's the fun in that?"

rose's eyes shifted between the two girls, biting the inside of cheek until finally, she stopped. "why don't you want to go?"

"because, i don't want to," she answered simply. when jolene made a face, she felt the need to add on. "and i don't have a date."

"you don't?" rose asked, surprised. "what about potter? he's not going with you?"

"no."

"why not?" jolene sounded infuriated. "what kind of shit boyfriend doesn't take their girlfriend to a ball?"

"it's complicated."

"just how complicated?" jolene followed up. "c'mon, explain," she demanded, sitting down on the shop's many waiting chairs. "we have all day."

so she did. from to start to finish. "jesus," jolene muttered once she finished. "what kind of dick move is that? no wonder i like women."

rose pursed her lips. "what about soren? does he still want to go with you?"

"i dunno," she answered honestly. "and even if he did i don't think i'd be able to go with him, not when i rejected him."

"then you'll go with us," said jolene, standing up. "the three of us can go together."

•••

the entrance hall was packed with students, all milling around waiting for eight o'clock, when the doors to the great hall would be thrown open. those people who were meeting partners from different houses were edging through the crowd, trying to find each other.

jolene had found lily and led her to where rose and [name] were waiting. the oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the durmstrang students entering with their professor. amerie was at the front of the party, accompanied by —oddly enough, peter pettigrew in dark robes that matched her dress.

how the two got together, she'll figure that out later.

she still hadn't seen james or soren, but buried the thought and went into the great hall like the rest of her friends.

the walls of the hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. the house tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

they found themselves by one of the many tables, chatting along as they waited for the ball to kick start itself.

once everyone in the hall settled, the champions and their dates walked in in lines. first to come in was amerie and peter —and odd couple that looked honestly cute with one another in a way she couldn't explain. the second to walk through the door was soren and a pretty girl in purple robes.

then —at last, was james potter. and his date. dates, actually. james had brought two dates. his dates who were wearing bright red dresses. ones that matched james' cut for cut. james potter and his dates were wearing the same dresses. james potter was wearing a dress. and so was his dates, sirius black and remus lupin.

"they're taking the piss out of this," jolene cackled loudly, a domino effect that soon spread throughout the hall: each students laughing loudly at the sight before them.

the three boys grinned, —well two really, james and sirius; remus was plain out grimacing— happy to have created such an uproar. searching hazel eyes met hers through the crowd, watching the most minuscule of her reaction with his lips curving upwards.

then he mouthed something, and despite being a shit mouth reader. she thought he told her to: "save me a dance."

the three boys started walking up towards a large round table at the top of the hall, where the judges were sitting.

when all the food had been consumed. dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. then, at a wave of his wand, tables zoomed back along the walls, leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right hand wall. a set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello and some bagpipes were set upon it.

the weird sisters now trooped up onto the stage to enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy, and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. they picked up their instruments, and came to realize that the lanterns on all the other tables had gone out, and that the champions and their partners were standing up.

the band played a slow song and she could see her friends separating. jolene and rose. lily and laurent. and finally marlene and dorcas. they looked reluctant in leaving her alone but with multiple shakes of her heads, they left towards the dance floor.

"hello." was the first thing soren said once he found her. "can i have a dance?"

she was skeptical, not wanting to steal him away from whoever his date was. soren, seeming as though he'd read her mind, smiled.

"we only came as friend." he told her. "she fancies this guy and wanted to make him jealous. it's the least i can do when the girl i wanted to come with already had a date."

she laughed, the irony of her coming as her friend's third wheel not lost. "poor you."

"poor me," he repeated, smiling charmingly. "now about that dance?"

she opened her mouth, ready to agree when someone came before her. drowning in red tool was james potter, positively beaming.

"hi." james smiled, and she noticed that once again, he had opted his glasses out for contact lenses. "can i have this dance?"

she turned to soren, watching as his face drop. his expression quickly shifts, rose-colored lips tugging into a small smile as he shrugged and sent her off.

at her nod, james' grin widened. offering a hand out, she placed her hand onto it and james made use of it by holding on tightly as he tried navigating the dance floor.

before they had gotten far, soren stopped them by calling out james' name. james turned, so did she, and found the blond looking hesitant.

finally, soren let up. "have you figured out what's inside egg yet?" he asked james directly.

james shook his head, brows knitted. "no."

"you should try putting it in water—" he paused, licking his lips. "—you'll find it very helpful if you did so."

"okay," james murmured, clearly skeptical. "how'd you find out?"

"laurent is very clumsy," soren said off-handedly, his eyes then briefly glanced towards her. "but you should look into it, i think i might need some help when it comes to it."

and with a fond smile, soren left the pair alone. james shook his head, only then realizing that their hands were still intertwined. james didn't make a move to let go, only continuing on his journey to finding the perfect place for their dance.

once they found a good spot, not too crowded and yet not too bare with the music loud enough for them to be able to hear one another. james guided both her hands to his shoulders —bare due to the off the shoulder cut he wore, and placed his hands on her waist.

"you didn't think i would come with someone else did you?" he asked, swaying. "because, quite honestly i couldn't even dream of it. it was you or no one else."

she didn't know what to say. didn't know how to control the fact that his word had sent butterflies to her stomach so she settled for an easy: "really?"

james smiled, and nodded bashfully. "really. it was the only think i thought of when minnie told us about the ball."

"right," she murmured. "but then i had to compete with two pretty lads wearing dresses so i obviously lost."

"obviously." his tone was light and teasing. "how could one compete with this pretty dress?"

she glanced down, finally taking the piece in and giggled. the dress was a bright red, off shoulder, princess dress. he looked charmingly ridiculous save for his handsome face (despite it losing its iconic presence).

"why aren't you wearing your glasses?" she made sure not to step on the tools of his dress as they dance. "you haven't been wearing them for a while now. why the change?"

james shrugged. "why not the change?" with a roll of her eyes, james answered honestly. "because, i thought you'd like it."

"why?"

"a couple weeks back, whilst working with lily at her dorm, i took my glasses of to clean them and mckinnon told me i looked handsome." he stopped for a second, gulping. "i'd thought you'd agree so i started opting for contact lenses instead."

"i guess i did it to impress you."

heart: melted. "james."

"bug," he said in return, using the same pet name he had called her when he first painted himself to be her boyfriend.

"thank you for doing this. i do think you look nice with contact lenses." she smiled, an action that he reciprocated. "but i think i preferred it more when you don't have to worry about your contacts drying up."

"i'll keep that in mind."

•••

"wormie," james called out. "lock the door, will you?"

peter did as told, locking the prefect's bathroom door whilst watching as his friends —sirius and james, to be specific— strip into their swimming trunks with remus, and james' pretend girlfriend standing by the edge of the pool.

remus had the golden egg in hand, passing it down to james once he settled into the water. the tub was clear for the most part, the group had decided that that was best.

any bubbles would obscure the view of what happens to the egg.

james with the egg in hand, shot her a playful look. "you sure you don't want to come in, bug? the water's very nice."

with her back pressed against the wall and her arms crossed in front of her chest. she quipped, "never have i ever before."

with a final smile, james turned to sirius who was watching them with careful eyes. james then proceeded to slowly lower the egg into the water, scared that this might be soren's plan on ruining james chances in winning.

but james had always been trustful. so once nothing happened after submerging the egg, james' hand reached over to open it and this time —unlike the several other times, the marauders attempted to open it— it did not wail.

instead a gurgling song was coming from it, a song who's word they could not distinguish through the water. "put your head under," remus told them.

sirius and james took in a deep breath, and slid under the surface —and now, sitting on the marble bottom of the tub, they heard a chorus of eerie voices singing to them from the open egg on james' hand.

come seek us where our voices sound. we cannot sing above the ground, and while you're searching, ponder this we've taken what you'll sorely miss, an hour long you'll have to look, and to recover what we took, but past an hour - the prospect's black too late, it's gone, it won't come back.

"note this down," said james, rising up from the water. peter scrambled to his book bag, grabbing the first piece of paper and quill he could find and waited for james to recall whatever the song was.

it was barely days before the second task, which meant they were running on borrowed time. after dressing as quickly as they could, the five of them began their way towards the library.

they ended the first and second day empty handed, not having a single piece of formation at their aid. the third, which was one day before d-day, was almost repetitive of the last two days. keyword: almost.

as the sun began setting and the five grew tired from the lack of findings, the sight of lily evans and frank longbottom was practically god sent.

lily was the first one to speak, noticing their miserable expressions. "still nothing?"

"nope," james concurred, head buried into his books. "absolutely nothing."

"honestly, after million of years of magic there ought to be at least one or two charms that helps you breathe underwater but there's absolutely none."

"what do you mean there's none?" lily asked with confusion.

"there's absolutely zero." james exaggerated. "we've been here for days and still haven't got a thing."

"do you think maybe you've been looking for it in the wrong books?"

"no." james drawled, then he turned to lily. "do you know something i don't?"

"a few," she murmured. "like the scuba spell and the bubble head charm both of which are used to breathe underwater."

"and gilly weed," frank added.

"brilliant," james said sarcastically. "why have we been here all day when we could've asked this two geniuses. why are you even here anyways?"

"professor mcgonagall sent us to fetch those three." lily pointed to [name], sirius, and peter.

she hadn't done anything wrong if she could recall. so why did professor mcgonagall want to see her?

"why?" sirius asked before she could.

"she wouldn't tell," frank shrugged. "she was looking a bit grim when she asked for you three, though."

"we're supposed to take you down to her office," said lily.

the trio stood, standing side by side. "we'll meet you back at the common room."

when morning came, james had somehow acquired gilly weed by sneaking into one of the many green houses on the school's grown. he put on his contacts —seeing as it would be better for him to not worry about losing his glasses— and hoped for the best.

he remembered a brief conversation he had the night before. frank longbottom was half asleep and half delirious; his words mumbling with one another. "do you know how to swim?" he'd asked.

"yes, no. well— well enough for me to complete this task," james answered.

"okay," frank murmured, nodding off from his bed. "just remember, if you forget how to swim, just wiggle like a worm and you'll be alright."

remus and james shared a look, hiding their laughs. "thanks."

neither sirius, peter nor her had return —or maybe they did but he had missed them. maybe they had gotten back after he'd went to bed and gotten up early for whatever mcgonagall needed. or maybe they hadn't returned at all.

james shrugged away those thoughts as he had breakfast, his head interpreting the song as many way as he possible could.

they had taken something from him that he'd surely missed and he had an hour to retrieve it, if the hour passes and he had yet to retrieve it, whatever it was would be gone.

and now as he stood on the edge of the platform, upset that neither his best friend or girl friend was there to cheer for him, james took a great breath, ate his gilly weed and dived in.

the lake was so cold he felt the skin on his legs searing as though this was fire, not icy water. the first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life, and james realized then that he had grown gills.

james stretched out his hands in front of him and stared at them. they looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had became webbed. he twisted around and looked at his bare feet - they had become elongated and his toes were webbed, too, it looked as though he had sprouted flippers.

the gryffindor smiled to himself; he was partially a merman, brilliant

he swam deeper and deeper —and mentally wondered if he looked like a worm. he turned full circle in the water, the silence pressing harder than ever apainst his cardrums. james thought he must be even deeper in the lake now, but nothing seemed to be moving except for the rippling weeds.

he swam on for what felt like at least twenty more minutes, passing over vast expanses of black mud now, which swirled murkily as he disturbed the water. then, at long last, he heard a snatch of haunting mer-song.

an hour long you'll have to look, and to recover what we took,

he swam faster, and found a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead that had paintings of merpeople on it. though terrified for his life, james pushed it aside and swam forward, following the mer-song.

. . . your time's half gone, so hurry not lest what you seek stays here to rot . . .

a cluster of crude stone dwellings strained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom of all sides. here and there by the windows james saw faces.

all of which had greyish skins and long, wild, dark green hair. their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and in, wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. they leered at james ,as he swam past, one or two of them emerged from their caves, to watch him better, their powerful, silver fishtails beating the waves with spears clutched in their hands.

james sped up and a strange sight met his eyes.

a whole crowd of merpeople were floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. a choir of merpeople were singing in the middle, calling the champions towards them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. three people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

[name] was tied between sirius and peter. all three of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

james froze briefly, not knowing who exactly he meant to be saving. he cared for the three of them deeply, his two best friends and the girl who had helped him more than he could've asked for.

james shook away his thoughts and sped towards the hostages, half expecting the merpeople to lower their spears and change at him, but they did nothing. the ropes of weed tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy and very strong.

he looked around. many of the merpeople surrounding them were camping spears and wondered if he could've borrowed one of their spears but, he knew that they wouldn't let him.

this was his task, he needed to finish it himself.

so james swirled around, looking for anything that would suffice. then it hit him —quite literally, an object hit his head and he turned as quickly as he could to find soren watching him.

the object fell to the bottom and james registered it as a covered butterfly knife, he was unsure what to do with it. what was he playing at?

"get him." soren told him, his voice was clear; the bubble-head charm was useful when it came to this. soren grabbed another knife from his pocket, opening it up to hack at the ropes on [name]'s ankle, when they broke soren spoke once more. "hurry."

so she was what he would've missed most?

when soren left and amerie came, her making quick work at peter's rope. james was reminded that he was soon to run out of time. james dove down, picking up the knife soren had thrown at him and began cutting at sirius' ropes.

once they broke, james wrapped an arm around sirius' torso and began swimming upwards. when he felt his head break the surface of the lake, he pulled sirius up with him.

amerie and peter came up just seconds after, making the crowd in the stands let out a great deal of noise, shouting and screaming, everybody seemed to be on their feet. james had the impression that they'd thought that sirius, peter and amerie might be dead but they were wrong.

sirius expelled a great spout of water, blinked in the bright light, turned to james and said, "i've never had someone make me this wet before."

james ignored him, too preoccupied with the fact that not only was soren's price possession his girlfriend but that soren had helped him twice now. and the lad didn't seem to be expecting anything in return.

he removed his arm from sirius' torso and swam towards the platform. his entire body ached, his previous fish-like feet and hands turned back to their normal state, clearly human as days.

amy reid was quick at rushing towards the pair of them once they rose. asking james question after question about why soren had saved his girlfriend, why soren was looking at her with so much concern and affection as he tried to help her recover from the task, and finally, why wasn't he angry that soren was doing so.

james didn't know for one. and for two, he really had no rights to be angry. she wasn't his girlfriend and as much as they pretended that they were, he could never lie to himself about that. not when he had always been to scared to make a proper move.

"james." her voice was familiar to him, he turned around. she looking at him with wet hair and even wetter clothing. she then pressed a hand to his cheek, turning to gaze at each side. "are you okay?"

james gulped, nodding. "i'm fine, bug." he forced himself not to lean into her touch, warm and welcoming despite the coldness on her fingertips. "brilliant even."

he nodded his head forward, and found soren watching the pair of them; james smiled weakly, an attempt at thanking the blond. "how's he?"

"he's fine," she answered. "he's very ecstatic that he got first place. i think he might implode any second now."

"from what?" seeing her touching james so intimately when she was the thing he'd missed most and yet, he couldn't have her?

"excitement." she told him. "what else would it be?"

•••

as the day of the third task creeps closer and closer, so close that it was a night away. she can't help but feel worried for what's about to come.

the triwizard tournament has quite a record when it came to death. and she really didn't want to see her 'boyfriend', the guy who saved her life —albeit him being the cause of her possible death, and her friend's new girlfriend dying.

still, as the day approaches, all she could bring herself to do was help them every single way possible. james had gathered that the task had something to do with the quidditch pitch so he told soren as a form of repayment.

the five of them —it being her, james, sirius, remus and lily, for peter was helping amerie out— had found themselves in a secluded classroom, practicing spells after spells.

james had been acting mechanically lately, that she noticed. she wondered if it had anything to do with what happened during the second task— more specifically, soren. she decided not to ask, whatever was going on with james was not her problem.

she shouldn't want to know unless he decides to open up to her about it.

"bug." when she started responding to that pet name exactly, she couldn't pin point. "we're just about to leave, aren't you coming?"

"oh." she stood up from where she'd sat. "yeah, 'course."

"on second thought," james murmured, glancing between her and his friends who were stood by the door. "just go on without me, i need to speak to [name] for a bit."

the three bid their goodbye and left. james turned back to her when he could no longer hear their footsteps and almost smiled at the confused look on her face.

"i . . . kind of have to tell you something," he told her, swallowing hardly. "it's just that— the final task is tomorrow and the triwizard tournament is quite notorious for its deaths."

he then continued. "i suppose i'm telling you all this so i wouldn't regret it if something where to happen to me."

as james did everything and absolutely nothing at the same time, she can't help but think that this is it. this is where james decided that he'd used her until she was powerless, that he didn't need her anymore, that this was where it all ends.

and she didn't know/can't differentiate whether she feels happy or miserable over this. or if she felt both. but to her surprise, james confessed.

"i think i like you."

it took her one, two, three seconds to process this. i think i like you. he thinks he likes her. he thinks he fancies me. "what?"

"i lied," james began. "there was a reason i ran to you that day. i didn't know why i chose you then and still don't now but what i do know is that alice was there and we both know she's nice enough to help my lie to reid and yet, i chose you to help me out."

james took in a deep breath. "i couldn't stop thinking about you the days after, i didn't know why but i chose not to dwell on it for two long. and then the ball happened, you look so beautiful that i felt stupid for even considering going without you."

"i should've figured it out sooner but i didn't," he mumbled. "i still haven't figured it out now."

"what i have figured out is that i don't like seeing edmé look at you the same way i look at you. i don't like knowing that he cares about you as much as i care about you. i don't like that he's sure about his feelings for you while i'm not."

she put the pieces together then, it was so nice for him to lay it all out in front her.

"i think i fancy you, bug." he looked at her, really looked at her this time and said, "and i don't know what to do about it."

•••

whoever was running the tournament is a dumbass. who decided that putting a maze in a quidditch pitch was a good idea. who decided that making the final (and probably most important task) almost unwatchable was a good idea.

all she could make out from her seat was some random heads of hair, running round in every direction; all trying to reach the middle where the cup sat prettily on a platform.

both soren and james had gotten head starts. james for being the fastest during the first task and soren during the second.

it was about forty minutes into the task when the crowds started up, murmuring about a champion's return with the cup in hand.

everyone watched with baited breath, each school hoping that their school champion would pass through the maze as if they were the flash themselves.

and after a few more apprehensive minutes, the hogwarts students shoot up from their seats; screaming, yelling, shouting loudly in celebration. chanting the name potter over and over again when james walked out with the biggest grin he'd ever worn in his life.

lily pulled at her hand, leading her way down the stairs and onto the pitch where james stood handsomely, turning from cameras to cameras and to more cameras until he finally spotted them.

her more specifically.

james was practically beaming by then, turning to reid and told her kindly. "excuse me, i need to go kiss my girlfriend."

james passed the trophy to sirius on his way to her and grabbed onto her wrist, he led the way towards a secluded area and before she could even say hi; james had pressed his lips onto hers.

his bottom lips tugged between his teeth when he pulled away, looking at her with nothing but adoration in his eyes. "i won."

"you did," she concurred. "congratulations."

it didn't occur to her then what exactly had happened. they had kissed before, this was nothing new.

"i told you i'd win," he told her. "i'm never wrong about those stuff."

she only hummed, smiling and nodding as she let him take his win.

james, seemingly high on victory, told her almost breathlessly. "you are the most beautiful girl i've ever seen."

her eyes shot to the ground without intending to, mouth dry with no good response. james' hand found her chin, gently tilting her face upwards so he could get a good look at her.

"i like you," james said lowly. "that i'm sure of now. i really really like you, bug."

"and i would really like to kiss you and be your boyfriend for real this time." he finished.

james waited, one, two, three seconds, leaned in and when she made no move in pushing him away, he pressed her lips onto hers. kissing her with so much passion she would've fell if it weren't for him wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her desperately close to his chest, holding her tightly in place.

and this time, this time, she realized that there was no one watching. there was no cameras clicking, no one forcing him to kiss her to prove that it was all real because, this time james is kissing her because he wanted to. because, james was sure he likes her.

—from bee: this fic was one of my longest fic of all time sksksk i love james very much hehe

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x yn #james potter scenarios #james potter imagines #james potter fluff #james potter humor #james potter fanfiction #james potter au #Spotify #🧳: my writing

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dixons-sunshine · 6 months ago

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Someone To Love | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl treasured his friendship with you. You were everything to him, someone he could go to when he needed you. On his sixteenth birthday, you did something for him that made him realize that his love for you ran much deeper than he had initially thought.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 1.8k.

A/n: I'm really sleep deprived, so this potentially sucks really bad. It's also not exactly like what was requested, but I went with my gut and this was born. However, I hope you like this! (Requested by @ddamm. I'm not gonna be home this weekend and won't be able to write something for your birthday, so I wrote this for you as an early birthday present!)

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Where are ya takin' me?”

“I can't tell you that. It's a surprise, Daryl.”

“Y'know I hate surprises.”

“This one you'll like, I promise. Now shut up and just follow me.”

Daryl rolled his eyes at you, a small, affectionate smile annoyingly tugging at the corners of his lips. He walked with his hands tucked into his jean pockets, carefully stepping over any logs and big rocks in his path. You were walking slightly ahead of him, a skip in your step as you lead him somewhere—to his supposed surprise or his death, he wasn't sure.

“Ya sure ya didn't jus' bring me out here to kill me?” Daryl questioned playfully, chuckling at the glare you threw his way over your shoulder. “Jus' askin', sunshine. No need to get mad. S'a valid question. Most'a those murder books ya read start in the woods, so m'jus' curious if yer takin' a page outta those characters' books.”

You looked at him over your shoulder. “Believe me, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't do it in the most common, boring way. I'm more creative than that.”

Daryl raised his eyebrows at you. “Should I be scared?”

“No, of course not!” you laughed and shook your head, reaching over to grab his wrist. You tugged him along behind you, taking off into a steady run.

Daryl stumbled over his feet for a moment before laughing, quickening his pace to keep up with you. “Jeez, girl! Ya dun' have to rip my damn arm off.”

You giggled. “Sorry, I was excited,” you apologized, stopping in your tracks. You turned to Daryl when he stopped next to you, releasing your grip on his arm. “We're here. Happy birthday, Dar.”

Daryl looked ahead and was surprised to be met with a small, intimate setting—a picnic basket resting on top of a blanket. You had really gone above and beyond, Daryl thought I'm surprise, trying to ignore the odd feeling of warmth that spread through his body when he looked back at you and saw an excited smile on your face.

“You said no parties, so I thought we could have a little picnic instead, just the two of us,” you explained, taking Daryl's hand in yours and leading him over to the blanket. You motioned for him to sit down, following suite and getting comfortable on the blanket you had swiped from your mom's closet.

Daryl eyed everything around him curiously. The two of you were in a part of the forest he wasn't familiar with. It was rather surprising, considering he spent most of his time either at your trailer or in the forest, so seeing that you were able to locate a spot he didn't know was rather impressive.

The movement of your hand towards the picnic basket instantly peaked his interest. He watched as you pulled out an old portable CD player that your mom had gotten you a year prior, settling it onto the blanket and fiddling with a few buttons before pressing the play button.

Daryl's eyes widened when the melody to Ozzy Osbourne's “Crazy Train” flooded the relatively quiet air. His eyes met yours and he let out a shocked noise. “Where'd ya get an Ozzy CD?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back on the palms of your hands. “Mr Jones owed my mom a favour. She finally called it in and borrowed a bunch of music for us for this.”

“Ya got other artists?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Guns 'n Roses, Dio, Led Zeppelin, Metallica, Queen—”

“Ya got Queen?” Daryl questioned in amusement. “Ya know I dun' listen to 'em.”

“And you know that I don't believe that,” you countered, sending him a teasing smirk. “I've seen you quietly sing along when I play Queen in my room. There's no hiding the truth from me, Daryl.”

“Nah, yer only seein' things. Gotta get yer eyes checked out or somethin',” Daryl replied defensively, crossing his arms over his chest in mock annoyance.

You rolled your eyes and sat upright, reaching into the picnic basket to grab a sandwich to hand to Daryl. “Whatever you say, birthday boy.”

Daryl accepted the sandwich and took a bite from it, humming in approval at the taste. “Taste's real fuckin' good. Thanks.”

“Only the best on your birthday,” you mused, reaching into the basket to grab your own sandwich. “You deserve it. And as long as you have me around, we'll always celebrate it.”

Daryl gave you a small smile, taking another bite from his sandwich to avoid saying something that could potentially ruin the moment. As he looked at you, he couldn't help but admire you. From the beautiful colour of your eyes to the way your lips curved when you smiled, to the outfit you were wearing that day that hugged you in all the right ways. Everything about you in that particular moment was perfect, and Daryl found himself very confused at the feeling that entered his body. There was a strange knotting in his stomach when you met his eyes, and he froze at the weird sensation.

Thankfully, you started talking about some band you had discovered that snapped him from his thoughts, and Daryl pushed the strange feelings down. He wouldn't ruin a perfect moment with his best friend because of some stupid sickness he was getting. He would worry about his health later. For now, he would appreciate your company on a day that he rarely celebrated anymore.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Stay right here. I'll be right back.”

Daryl looked up at you in confusion when you got up from the blanket, the Lynard Skynyrd song that was playing in the background forgotten for the time being. “Wha' do ya mean? Where are ya goin'?”

“Just wait here. I need to go grab something I put here earlier,” you explained, turning on your heel and walking off.

“Ya sure ya ain't jus' gon' get yer gun to shoot me? I knew ya were plannin' on killin' me.”

“Very funny, Dixon.”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head, watching your retreating figure in wonder. He leaned back on the palms of his hands, humming along to the song playing. He looked around at the wildlife that looked even more beautiful in the light of the setting sun, content for the first time in a while. The day had been uneventful; he had spent most of the morning and early afternoon in your trailer watching movies while you were busy setting up the surprise for him, then he had a calm picnic with you, swapping jokes and stories, and after that, he would go back to your trailer for the night.

Daryl felt calm, and it was all because of you. All because you refused to let him spend yet another birthday on his own, cooped away in his room.

The rustling of the leaves alerted him to your presence. He looked up at you, instantly noticing the box in your hands.

“Wha's tha'?”

You sat back down on the blanket and extended the box to him, giggling when Daryl only eyed the box in suspicion instead of taking it. “Daryl, it's just a box. It can't hurt you.”

“Las' time someone handed me a wrapped box, I found a bunch'a spiders inside tha' crawled all over me,” Daryl told you, still refusing to take the box.

You shook your head and laughed lightly. “Let me guess, Merle?” When Daryl simply nodded, you continued. “I promise there aren't any bad surprises in here. Only a good one, I hope.”

Daryl hesitantly took the object from you and lowered it onto his lap, slowly starting to peel the wrapping paper away. Once the simple brown box underneath was revealed, he looked up to you, but was only met with an encouraging smile. He opened the box at a snail's pace, but once the object inside was revealed through the small opening, Daryl practically ripped the rest of the box open.

Daryl carefully picked up the object, inspecting it carefully as his eyes widened in surprise. He looked over at you again, a shocked smile on his face. “A Walkman?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, a smile on your face at his obvious excitement that your best friend failed to hide. “I know you've wanted one for a while now, so I spared up some money to buy one for you. It's not new because I didn't have seventy bucks to buy a brand new one, but it works and it's not all banged up. I made you a tape as well. It's already in there.”

Daryl looked surprised. Unwillingly, a few tears started to well up in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away. There was no need for tears in a moment like that. He sent you a small, unsure smile, feeling that same strange feeling from earlier creeping up on him again.

“Thank you,” Daryl whispered, moving the Walkman around in his hands. “This is the best birthday I've ever had. S'jus'... Ya gave me somethin' I've been wantin' fer so long, even though ya didn't have to. Yer amazin'.”

Not realizing the true, deeper meaning behind his words, you leaned forward and hugged Daryl tightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Anything for you, Dar. You know that.”

Daryl hugged you back tightly, lowering his head to rest on your shoulder. Daryl's feelings hit him with the force of a hundred freight trains—he was falling for you. He was falling for his best friend, and he didn't even realize it until that moment. The only reason he realized it was because of the gift you gave him. And it wasn't the picnic or the snacks or even the Walkman. No, it was something much deeper than that, something much more valuable to Daryl than anything else in the world.

You gave him someone he could trust. You gave him someone he could go to with his problems, someone who never judged him or belittled him for feeling emotional. You gave him someone he could love without the fear of being disappointed, someone he knew would be there for him.

You gave him you, and that was more than enough for him.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

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seoul-bros · 21 days ago

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Jikook Week 44 Complete (08/10-15/10/2024)

Their 44th week in the military is now complete. It's time to celebrate with a look back at this week in 2014.

This was the Dark & Wild era and in researching this post I was drawn back to Beyond the Story to reread what the members and particular J-Hope & V said about promoting Danger, the title track.

"All those performances for "Danger" were really exhausting. When we had that comeback with "Danger" releasing the Dark & Wild album, we'd done about twenty music show pre-recordings and then went to a different program where they announced first place. We were told we had to be there, so we went up there live, completely out of it. Then, it turned out we weren't even candidate for first place, which I think was a big shock." J-Hope

"It's fine if other teams are named as candidates for first place. We just need to work harder. But at the broadcasting stations, we'd always be the first to say hello and greet everyone, the seonbaes and the hubaes alike, but some people just ignored us and passed right by. Or mocked us for not being candidates for the top place.

After the broadcast, we all got into the van together...... Someone was crying, someone was getting really mad, and someone just couldn't speak. The unspeakable disappointment and that tear-jerking emotion was too much

That's when we thought, 'Hey us, let's do really well. So that no one will ever look down on us again.' Looking back, I'm glad we at least got a hold of ourselves back then (laughs). Because we all found our resolve, we had that determination and we all came together as one, swearing to become a really awesome group together" V

That belief that they were in this together and they only had each other comes out very strongly in their SM posts of the time and can perhaps be best illustrated by vmin's TwiX posts. These two romantic & sensitive 95 liners were also ambitious & determined to succeed together with their team.

"Let's go for a long time, I only have you V"

Let's not forget this night view, Jimin

Ah, I see now, Let's be friends for life

Jimin Post 1, Jimin Post 2, V Post 1

This week in 2014 was the tail end of the Danger promo period and images and videos from previous performances were released.

Twix Link

For their Music Bank show there was a mission challenge to make a heart for the audience during the performance.

youtube

It's such a complete contrast their gentle laddish camaraderie in the dressing room compared to the tough macho attitudes they were portraying on stage.

JK "Are you kidding me? What am I to you?, Am I easy? Uh, are you playing with me?" JM "You're in danger now, Why are you testing me? Why are you testing me?, Don't make me confused

youtube

Even with the difficulties facing them off stage as soon as the lights went up they delivered smash performances EVERY SINGLE TIME.

This week was also countdown to the the Red Bullet Tour (17-19/10/2014) and the release of War of Hormone (21/10/2014).

youtube

Look at these countdown gifs - V (D-6) is taking me out!

And look at these jikook cuties. JK in particular was so so young.

Finally, this week it was Jimin's second birthday after debut and he spent it in the practice room.

Post Date: 15/10/2024 in SK

#jikook #jimin #jungkook #bts in the military #bts in 2014 #red bullet tour #danger #beyond the story #jimin's birthday 2014 #Youtube

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wildestdreamsblog · 2 years ago

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Hiraeth II

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Summary: You had always been his, and no one could take you away from him. Idol!AU

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Slight age gap, Murder intention, Mention of death, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: you know what, Kim Seokjin just hits different to me. I miss him and I’m taking u all down with me in my I-miss-u-jin-era.

Masterlist Hiraeth I

After you got over your initial shock in which you thoughtlessly swung your fist to his handsome face, you found yourself sheepishly walking to the kitchen where you could hear him moving. He looked up as soon as you entered the room, one side of his bruised lips tilted up. He watched you moved with a secretive smile on his face that you so badly wanted to erase. Jin looked like he was thoroughly enjoying this. You couldn’t help but notice how much he changed. He matured, no longer the young man who had soft cheeks and undefined body. Instead, your eyes roamed over his sharp features and his muscular back that couldn’t be hidden by his shirt. In front of you was a man who was confident. And you didn’t know how to handle him.

You didn’t know how to handle him when in the first place, you thought you would never see him again, not after you ran from him. Not after he begged you to come back.

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked after enough time had passed and he was still looking at you as though he was waiting for you to crack. And you did. You could’t take his heavy eyes, couldn’t take the silence as he watched you.

Was he this insufferable when you were younger?

Were you just too blind to see him for how he really was?

Additionally…was he this beautiful when you were younger? Or was time just unfairly favorable to him?

He gestured to the noodles he was stirring. “I’m cooking us breakfast, princess.”

His old name for you hindered you from reacting quickly. You blinked owlishly, memories of him calling you that playing in flashback.

“Yes….but why here?”

He turned off the stove leisurely as if his answer wouldn’t rattle your whole world before leaning his body on the counter, his eyes focused on yours. “Where else would I be? I live here.”

“What? B-but, your mother- she didn’t tell me…”

He shrugged, busying himself with plating the food and bringing it to the simple yet elegant dining table. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” He asked in a nonchalant voice, his movements precise and calm.

When you didn’t answer, he tilted his head to the side, his hand inside his pocket as he stalked slowly to where you were standing near the door. If he noticed how you seemed to be one push away from running, he didn’t comment. Instead, there he was, his tall form towering over you. “Do I make you nervous, princess?”

“J-Jin-“

“Tsk,” he shook his head, his dark, unfathomable eyes focused on yours. His hair was pushed back from his forehead, giving him that regal look you always thought he possessed. “What happened to ‘Oppa’?” He asked in what one would thought of as a sincere question, but the mocking glint in his eyes could not fool you.

“I-I don’t-“

“Hmm? You don’t what?” He whispered sweetly, his fingers stroking your hair. He was transfixed with the way time changed you. Yet, he hated how he wasn’t there to experience growing up with you because you took yourself away from his grasp. But no more. He took a deep breath to calm the demons in him, before flashing you his usual, carefree smile.

“Do I still affect you, princess?”

“N-no!”

Jin regarded you for a moment too long, his eyes sparkling with something akin to mischief and danger. “Perfect,” he beamed at you before pulling your wrist to the dining table. “There’s no reason for you not to stay here, then. Come on, let’s eat.”

Despite him acting as though no years passed between the two of you, you simply couldn’t. You could feel the weight of seeing him in person sitting heavily on your shoulders, could hear the unspoken words no one had the strength and courage to say, could feel the guilt and anguish in your heart.

“So,” you began, your eyes focused on the chopsticks in your hand. “H-how have you been, Seokjin?”

He scoffed, his dark eyes boring on yours. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

“It’s just that…it’s been so long.”

“And whose fault is that,” he stated tonelessly, his large hand closing to a fist before calming himself down. He needed to remind himself that he had you now, that he wasn’t going to lose you this time.

He had to remind himself that he needed to forgive you if he wanted a clean start with you.

“Never mind,” you sighed, clearly discouraged with his response. What did you expect? You practically ghosted him the moment your turned eighteen, turning your back on your closest childhood friend, to your remaining family just because you were in pain.

Perhaps, you should acknowledge that you hurt him in the process of healing yourself. You didn’t know if you wanted to fix the ruined relationship between the two of you, didn’t know if you could redeem yourself. You had so much buried feelings that you didn’t know if this was worth it.

You quietly ate your food, already internally planning your living situation. You would sort out your living situation today. You could not live with Jin, not when he made you feel things you thought you had long killed. You could not-

“I’m sorry.”

You blinked owlishly as you looked up at the man sitting in front of you. Your astonished and lost expression softened his resolve, it melted his anger.

Only you could silence the dark thoughts in his head. Ironically, you were the reason why the demons in his mind were born.

“I shouldn’t have said that. You were just trying your best to heal the way you know how. It’s okay,” Jin stated, his eyes trained on you, willing you to see his sincerity. Except that it wasn’t okay you left. Yet, he knew it was the best for you despite it destroying him so monumental it took him years to feel normal.

Should you leave him again, he knew the carefully reconstructed sanity of his will tumble down.

“I’m just sorry you had to do it all alone,” he whispered sadly.

Aside from your therapist, you had never spoken about this with anyone. To you, it was something so tragic that saying it would make you relive the pain, loneliness and desperation it caused you. This was the first time in almost a decade that someone acknowledged your pain, you strength, and the sacrifices made along the way.

“But princess,” he continued, his hand reaching across the table to clasp yours. And once he did, he felt peace the moment he was able to touch you. “You don’t have to be alone. Not anymore.”

It was an hour later when you emerge to the living room where Jin was drying his hair. His movements slowed down when he saw you after you ran once again from him. After he said that you didn’t have to be alone, you walked to the bedroom without a word. You didn’t know how to handle your emotions, and the only way you knew how was to run.

And so ran, you did.

He raised his dark eyebrows at you when you didn’t say anything. “Going somewhere?”

You nodded, looking anywhere but him. Was he always this handsome even when had just showered? Was this fair? You looked like a drenched cat when you finished showering, and yet he looked like he was shooting a commercial.

“D-do you know where the nearest bus stop is?”

He nodded, “It’s more than an hour away.”

“What about taxi?”

He blinked innocently, “This is an exclusive neighborhood, princess. Taxis are not allowed here,” he shared in a thoughtful manner.

You swore under your breath. You had grown up in Korea, but you lived your whole adult life in abroad that you were no longer confident with yourself here. You were so certain that you would get lost.

He watched you with a smirk in his face, “You can borrow one of my cars,” he offered with an innocent look on his face.

“I don’t know how to drive.”

He knew that.

“In that case,” he sighed as he stood up, stretching his hands upwards. You didn’t even have it in you to not look at his toned abs, didn’t have it in you to look away from his leaned, yet muscular arms. Jin smiled innocently at you when he noticed your wandering eyes.

“In that case, I need to drive you,” Jin shook his head slowly as though he was burdened by this when the truth was that this was his plan all along.

Jin sat patiently at the hotel lobby, his legs spread out. He was smiling indulgently as you walked near him with a defeated expression in your face. Jin was wearing a black cap to hide his identity, and besides that, an inconspicuous bodyguard was trailing after the two of you at Jin’s command. He wouldn’t risk his princess, after all.

He looked up at you as you stood in front of him, your expression confused and tired as you informed him that there was no available room. This was the seventh hotel you went to, and so far your plan hadn’t been successful.

“So?”

You shook your head, clearly apparent that you wouldn’t move out today. You were stuck. And you loathed depending on anyone, more so you hated depending on him again just like when you were younger. Just like when he would always take care of you, regardless if he was reluctant or not. You became overly independent when you moved away from everyone. It was a thing that your therapist was still trying to resolve. However, you just couldn’t let yourself depend on anyone on anything ever gain for the fear that one day, they might leave you alone too.

“I’ll just stay in a motel-“

Jin stood up, his proximity effectively cutting you off. He tilted your chin up, his eyes serious. “I’m not making you leave, princess. You can stay with me as long as you want,” he offered with a sincere smile in his face when all he wanted to say was that your place was beside him, and it should have been the case since the beginning if only he didn’t lose control. He could see the battle in your eyes, the weariness and the stubbornness to not to give in to him was apparent. You needed a nudge.

You entered the quaint restaurant, your eyes roaming around the area as you waited for Jin. He dropped you off in front before parking his car. The restaurant had a homey vibes to it. Sunlight was freely flowing to the room, and the windows were open which allowed the customers to feel the pleasant breeze. You could see customers enjoying their food and talking animatedly with the other- more so the one group on your right who had their heads bowed down, too engrossed with their food while talking and laughing among themselves. You felt a hand on the small of your back. You looked behind you to see Seokjin smiling at you with his cap still on. He was guiding you in when you heard the sound of utensils falling on the floor. You looked to your right where the group of men were eating and realization dawned upon you.

Jungkook’s eyes were the first ones you met. His doe eyes were even bigger from shock, his mouth agape with his chopstick suspended in the air. Beside him was Taehyung who looked at you and Jin with knowing eyes before smiling that rectangular smile of his. Jimin and Hoseok both looked at you in surprised.

“H-hyung?” Jungkook called Jin with confusion in his face as he looked down at Jin’s hand on you. He had never seen his hyung touched someone from another gender willingly. To be honest, Seokjin didn’t care much about anyone outside the members and his own family. Seeing him looking at you with too much emotion in his otherwise emotionless eyes made all of them curious about who you were.

Jin sighed before looking at his members. “You’re all here. Again.”

“We were starving…” the man you recognized as the leader explained sheepishly. He turned to look at you before smiling, “Hi. I’m Namjoon. And you are?”

—

You found yourself sat beside Seokjin who was busy putting food on your plate. If he noticed his members looking at him as though an imposter took his place, he didn’t comment. It was as if the six men looking at the two of you with mixture of bewilderment from Jungkook and Jimin, curiosity from Namjoon and Hoseok, amusement from Taehyung and strangely, indifference from Yoongi, didn’t bother him.

But it bothered you.

You broke eye contact with Taehyung who was sitting beside you with his chin resting on his hand as he examined you with twinkle in his eyes to look at the other man beside you.

“Are you sure it’s fine for me to sit with you? What if someone sees?” You leaned to whisper at Jin.

He merely shrugged. It didn’t matter. In fact, he wanted the world to know you were his. “Eat, princess.”

“I can’t,” you whispered once again, hyperaware of the six pair of eyes on you and him.

“Why?”

“Why are they looking at me?”

Seokjin craned his neck up, frustration evident on his face before looking at his younger members with a terrifying glare. “Why are you always here?”

“We were hungry-“

“And you ate. Now leave.”

“Is that how you treat your customers, hyung?” Jimin teased with a pout before looking at you innocently.

Wait, this was his?

“You’re not my customers because you all rarely pay!”

Chaos ensued as the men bickered and teased each other. You could see the familiarity and the love between them that came with years and years of companionship. You were unknowingly smiling before eating your late lunch. You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you actually ate. They were all still arguing, albeit without any claws to their words, when you felt a finger poking your arm.

“I’m Taehyung,” he introduced himself before offering you his hand. You shook his hand warily. “I’m Y/N.”

“So, Y/N, how did you know my hyung?” He asked, uncaring of the bickering of the men in front of him. He was more interested with who you were. His hyung never did once look at any woman, never once did he touch them. In fact, he was irritated whenever some woman would sauntered to him and flirted. Behind his hyung’s pleasant personality and contagious laugh lied his cold persona reserved for people who didn’t matter to him.

Which was exactly why you were a puzzle to the group. For the first time since they met him, they saw their hyung smiled so genuinely at a woman. For the first time, they saw the darkness that somehow terrified them in Jin’s eyes vanished.

“Oh uhm. We’re childhood friends. His parents and my dad were the best of friends.”

Were?

Yoongi, who hadn’t said a thing yet, tilted his head when he heard you. He looked at you with indifferent eyes before slyly shifting his bored gaze to his only hyung who visibly stiffened from your words.

Interesting.

You watched him as he took his pillow and RJ in his arms. Seokjin really looked comfy and yet, so beautiful despite wearing only his pajamas. “You know I can take the sofa. I don’t mind. I really don’t want to be an imposition on-“

“Nonsense, princess. I want you to be comfortable here. You’re my guest after all,” he turned to look at you before smiling. He walked towards the bed where you were sitting. He leaned down and softly placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Good night, my princess,” he whispered, and before you could even react, he was out of the room.

You opened your eyes, and you were back to that nightmare. You saw your father walking away from you to that damned lake. You felt your heart skipped a beat, your legs moving faster and faster to stop him.

You knew what would happened.

You had seen this before.

You had lived this before.

“Dad! Please. Stop!” You shouted on top of your lungs, but it was as though he didn’t hear you. He kept on walking and walking, until he was in the middle of the frozen lake. He paused his movement to look at you. He never aged. His looks frozen in time.

“Run, my daughter,” he said with a serious note in his voice. This was different. He never said this in all your nightmares. “Run far. And don’t come back.”

“What? Dad, please! Just come here!” You shouted, and now you felt tears falling freely on your face. You knew what would happened.

You knew his destiny.

And you could never do anything about it but to see him fall to the icy water.

“Y/N! Wake up.”

“Princess, please. Wake up. It’s okay. You’re safe with me.”

“Wake up.”

And then you woke up. Your breath were ragged as though you were running for your life. You could feel his fingers wiping away your tears. You were full-on sobbing in front of him. And before you knew it, his arms were around you as he maneuvered your body to rest on top of his chest. Your hand fisted his shirt, wanting anything to ground you. Your heart was beating faster despite escaping the nightmare, and for the life of you, you didn’t know why you still felt unsafe.

Soothingly, he was running his hand on your back. Seokjin was patient as he waited for you to calm down. You felt his lips on top of your head. You heard him whisper how you were safe with him and that he would never let anything bad happen to you ever again.

And that night, he didn’t let you go.

—

“My baby looks so handsome!” His mother cooed at the four-year old Seokjin. She fixed his hair gently before holding his tiny hand in hers. She followed her husband inside their closest friend’s home. His wife had just given birth a month ago and this was the first time they would see the little bundle of joy. She was so ecstatic when she learned that the baby was a girl, much to her son’s disgust.

‘Girls are yucky, mommy!’

“Do you wanna see her?”

Did he? He looked thoughtful for a moment, his adorable pout ever so present in his lips. Perhaps, he should see what the fuss was about. He was almost certain- no, he was 100% sure that he was more endearing than that little elf who did nothing but cried.

But fine, he supposed he should look at her one time, then never again.

With a reluctant nod, his mother patted the seat beside her. Once he was fully sat down, his mother lowered the baby to his level which allowed him to peak at the crying Y/N.

Seokjin’s eyes widened at how could someone as little as you cried so loud?

Additionally, how could someone as little as you looked so…wonderful?

As though he was in a trance, Jin moved his face closer to you. His little hand was on its way to caress your hair when he heard his mother gently warn him to be careful. And so, he did. His little hand touched the sparse hair on your small head. He caressed it once, twice, and to the adults’ surprised, you stopped wailing your heart out as thought you were finally at peace.

“She likes you,” your father observed, his eyebags made it apparent that you weren’t letting your parents sleep.

“I think we should keep him with her so she would stop crying, right Jinnie?” He teased the little child.

Jin, on other hand, didn’t say anything. His focus was solely on you. Little Seokjin deemed it okay to stay with you.

It was a sweet moment, really it was. Until Jin dove down to peck your lips, and then chaos ensued.

Hiraeth III

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