#this is what i needed to distract myself from the heartbreak on the dash

[kinardscake]

this is fueled by me having a bad mh day and watching strictly come dancing to distract myself. I'm not sure what it is, but thought i'd share in case it is something ***

“Hi. My name is Tommy Kinard, and you may know me as Tommy Kincaid from Hotshots,” Tommy says into the camera in a room full of soft, bright lights and glitter. So much glitter. Everything sparkles and shimmers, and if he stares at one particular spot just a second too long he might actually go blind.

“The only dancing I’ve ever done was alone in the dark with no one watching so this experience is new to me,” he laughs and continues, “The whole sequins, sparkles, and leotards thing is so far from my normal area of expertise. I don’t think I’ve ever worn such tight clothes before.” Tommy looks himself over. “I think I’m ready.”

Tommy takes a breath as the cameras stop rolling. Is he ready, truly? No, he’s not. But it’s too late to back down, too late to say no.

----

It was a bad idea from the start, and he shouldn’t have listened to Lucy. Nothing is worth the embarrassment he is about to put himself through, not even the possibility of getting the main role in the Hotshots spin-off. “This show will put you back on the radar,” Lucy said to him two months ago, “and that is exactly what you need. All you have to do is to look pretty and try not to get eliminated at least for a couple of weeks.” She made it sound like a half-decent idea. And he believed her. With Lucy’s help, he made an audition tape, sent it in, and got a call a few weeks later.

----

The first thing the producers have the chosen celebrities do is to get to know the pro dancers. It’s a party of sorts, reminiscent of a school dance where a bunch of people stand awkwardly near the wall while others dash from one person to another seemingly having several different conversations at once. This party is the most important part of the pairing process, a chemistry test in a laid-back environment. Tommy stands alone leaning on a wall while everyone around him laughs and giggles and smiles, having the time of their lives, fueled by a few glasses of the bubbly.

“You’re not having fun?” a voice asks near him, it’s soft and quiet. “Not usually a party type of guy,” Tommy responds as he turns to look at the person standing next to him. It’s a man, one of the pros, Tommy notices, remembering Lucy’s flash cards. “Neither am I, not this kind of party anyway,” the man replies and extends his arm, “Evan Buckley.” Tommy shakes his hand and says his own name. Evan smiles at him and grabs his hand again, pulling him to the center of the room, “Come on. Let’s get you introduced to everyone.” And Tommy has no choice but to follow.

----

Evan is funny. He smiles and talks a lot, and in the two hours they’ve all spent here he makes friends with every celebrity in the room, learning not just their names but life stories as well. And still manages to find the time to acquaint Tommy with every potential female partner he could end up with. Throughout the whole party Evan moves faster than lightning, keeping Tommy on his toes, while he’s trying to keep up.

----

The party lasts until 4 am until everyone is too tired or a bit too intoxicated to continue. By the end of it, Tommy is nowhere close to guessing who he’ll be partnered with. Despite Evan’s insistence on dragging him everywhere to meet everyone he still feels like an odd duck in a pool of swans, not connecting with anyone. Evan pops into the back of his mind and Tommy groans. He shouldn’t even entertain that thought, let his heart wonder and hope. Because he will end up with nothing but heartbreak. In what kind of world would someone let him have Evan Buckley as his professional dance partner?

[furrbbyx]

Mermay submission

I started writing this because I wanted to make a mermaid yandere fanfiction based in Tamsin Ley's universe. And then I thought, make it lesbian because I need more lesbian monster love in my life. I never finished it, even though it was supposed to be a one shot because I got obsessed with word count, and the tone of the story. I also had a hard time getting to the smut, and the climax of the story because I had to build the complicated parts of taking home a sea creature who wants to consume their lover. And the end was supposed to be dramatic but I got tired writing it sooo

Here's the first part

Black lady mermaid X Black trans lady human

mentions of suicide ideation, pitfullness, sadness, misery, and boobs, and cursing

no minors beyond this point.

I submit to the monsterfucker society: "harsh as a siren"

When I bought the old gray wood house on the beach I thought I wanted to get away from the city, from people. Really I wanted to get away from my heartbreak. When Celia left me I was shattered. Everything about my life turned to a bunch of shards of broken dreams dashed against the unyielding ground that was Celia's indifference.

"I'm just not in love with you York! I tried ok? I tried to make this work but I'm not happy."

"I can change. I-I I can make you happy I promise, please Celia. You're everything to me, don't go. Don't leave please, god, don't leave."

Pathetic. I realize that now. I couldn't make that woman happy in a million years. It took a long time to realize that I'd been a placeholder for Celia. She had bigger plans for her life that hadn't included me.

So I left too, I got out of the city I knew. Left my apartment and my memories of what we'd had. Shit, I'd even left my job because I couldn't face the pity and the attempts to set me up with a rebound. I wanted to run away from the things that had shaped me and by the time I'd finished there was nothing to hold me together.

So yeah. I bought a little coffin for me to live in until I died of sorrow and loneliness. A small wind weathered house tucked in a cliff over-looking a beach of rounded sandstone boulders.

I ached for Celia and couldn't convince myself that we were over for good. For days after I moved in I would stare at the water and imagine ways that I could get her attention. I thought about trying to kill myself, about what it would feel like to drown in the freezing cold foamy waves. I thought up so many scenarios of my death that I would sometimes wake up after a nap confused that I was still in the house, still alive. 

My favorite was a little  daydream of me walking down the beach, wind whipping at my clothes, kind of tragic like that sea witch who had to become someone else just for a chance of happiness. Except I had no more chances. The round stones on the beach would slip and crunch under my steps as I paced  the shore until I got to the finer sand. I would imagine sitting down and deliberately taking off my clothes and leaving them neatly folded for Celia to find, because she was going to come looking for me when she heard I'd been missing. I would walk into the ocean then, feeling a sense of ecstasy. The cold would be sweet, the first intense feeling I'd had that wasn't sorrow. I would just keep walking, until the waves grabbed me and rolled me over and over like flotsam. 

I thought about this over and over for hours. When I was supposed to be working my remote job, I was thinking about dying. I didn't care about B2B, selling, making my boss money. I became  obsessed with ending my life. Yet it felt like another thing that I couldn't fulfil, like Celia's needs. My own escape fantasy filled me with bitterness and longing until one night a vicious wind whipped up from the sea and I could swear it was calling for me.

It had been a particularly gruesome day. The tide had been distracting me with noisy splashes so I couldn't even pretend to be focused on my coworkers during meetings. The wind kept choosing the worst moments to rattle my windows and siding like a poltergeist, causing my connection to glitch during my presentation. I'd run out of beer and cannabis, so I wasn't even buzzed enough to get through without showing  impatience and apathy like usual. My freaking bones felt like they were grating against reality. Every fucking thing was annoying me.

So when I finally logged off and saw that the short winter day had turned to night, and I heard the wind shaking my place for the thousandth time, I pushed away from my desk with a purposeful shove and made my way out to the beach.

Gusts of freezing wet, salty air immediately caught at my clothes and hair  when I stepped outside forcing me to struggle to the sand. The tide was coming in, hitting the beach like a fist with loud, wild waves. It was dark on my little little slice of land, I could barely make out the stones underfoot as I picked my way towards the shore. Behind me my house groaned and swayed on the posts that held it above the storm surge level as if warning me back. A loud unhappy creak caused me to look back and wonder if the roof might be coming off. 

The wind felt like it was picking me up, lifting me bodily into the night. It seemed to want to grasp and tear at everything. It whirled through the stunted twisted trees down the beach, it swirled the sand up into little dervishes, it howled and shrieked so loudly that I turned my face against it. But facing away from the biting sand and cold the howling became a distinct voice. It wasn't tangled up in the wind, nor was it the wind itself. I stopped to listen, rapt.

It wasn't a sound like the call of a gull, it was more like the vibrations left behind when the wind rattled against the house's siding. It reverberated in the air and against my eardrums, low and sad and....urgent. So urgent.

I looked back out to the sea and the sound was whipped away from my ears. Was the sea...did the sea want me?

I jerked into motion again, a bit heedless of the stone and shifting grit under my shoes. I hurried down the beach to the shore, not caring if I twisted an ankle or fell headlong into the churning water. Stopping just before the breaking waves, my body strung tight, I turned my head again to hear...

The calling was still there. Beating like a drum against my skull. Urgent. Come. Urgent. Come closer. A voice? But no words I could understand, just a compulsion, an impulse put into my limbs to keep walking into the water.

I turned my head trying to catch the sound, to tell how close it was. A gust carved up over the sea and into my chest bringing a splash of cold water over my shoes as the tide crawled forward.

"Fuck!" I stepped back annoyed with the icy squish of my suddenly soaked feet. The cold brought me back to my body a little. What was I doing? Was I going to walk into this roiling cauldron? Was this the night I would end it all?

For a long moment I watched the turbulent swash moving like a leviathan. It could swallow me so easily. It could take control of my life and make me anew.

Vibrations of urgency curled into my ears and around my brain again. There! 

The wind died suddenly and I could pinpoint the direction. Over by the jetty to my right. I followed the calling, almost running towards it. I skirted past the the tide, ignoring the wind which had come back full force, and approached the rock jetty curving out from the shore. At first I couldn't see anything but the lumpy, jagged line of dark rocks making up the jetty. The song, someone singing to me, it was coming from here but I couldn't see anyone as I climbed the jetty.

Was someone in trouble? The sharpness of the song's pull was being dulled by my panic. Was someone drowning?

"I'm here! Do you need help?" I yelled into the night cupping my hands around my mouth hoping I was loud enough to hear over the waves and wind.

Come! Come! Here!

My ears picked up to the sound "Where are..." I started to call out but found myself unable to to make a sound as my eyes came alive with the improbable sight before me.

Pressed against the middle of the jetty by the incessant watery force of the waves was a woman. Half of her body was above the water. Her back was against the jagged rocks of the jetty, arms braced there to keep her from being drawn out to sea as the waves receded.  

As I watched  another wave surged. The woman looked at me with inhumanly shining eyes, her mouth stretched wide as if in a scream as the water rolled into and over her. She was lost for a moment in the dark water. Fear hit me like a boulder and I scrambled down the jetty towards her. As the water pulled back I reached her. The woman's thick curly hair was dripping water into her strange bright pink eyes. 

Closer to her now, I realized why I had missed her in my search before. Her skin was as dark as the rocks she was trapped against. I could see the sea gathering strength for another heavy wave and I was desperate to help her before she was ripped into the tide. 

"Give me your hands!" I yelled trying to be heard above the wind. I grabbed at her arms and tried to haul her out of the sea but she was heavier than I expected and dead weight. She must be exhausted from holding on, I thought.

I wrapped my hands around her arms and started to pull her up the beach along the jetty. The wave that was coming was going to cover both of us if I didn't hurry.

Her wet hands slipped against my skin, scraping me with her nails. I winced but I readjusted and kept pulling her even when I looked down and saw how her fingers were connected with a thin translucent webbing.

I didn't get far before the water burst over us and soaked me through. For a terrifying moment I thought I would loose her in the surf as my feet slipped on the rocks beneath me and I fell, landing hard. My foot jammed between two boulders with a painful twinge but the resistance prevented us from being sucked out to sea.

I panted and sputtered and kept dragging her even as I tried to push us closer to the beach, to shallower water. I was only able to get us a few more feet before the next wave broke, and thankfully it much weaker than the last.

I heaved in air, nearly gasping as I lay back against the rocks. My back was stinging with cuts from dragging myself over the jetty. My skin was chilly from the ocean water and I was starting to shiver. I still held the woman's forearms tightly.

I looked down to find her staring directly into my eyes, her own strangely pink and glimmering in the night, the brightest light on the beach. I couldn't look away even as the waves rocked us. Her arms were stretched out, webbed hands gripping my wrists. The rest of her body floating behind into the ocean.

I had to blink a few times to make sense of what I was seeing. Her naked torso, almost hidden by the water, ended at a pearlescent ghostly dorsal fin flattened against her back and flowed into round curving hips covered by taut, pink shimmering, and glowing white patterned scaled skin. I looked down her length, a thick solid shape where her legs should be, to a gently undulating satiny fan of a huge fish tail flipping in and out of the water.

"What the fuck" My voice sounded small. I sat up to get a better look, absolutely sure I was seeing things.

The woman watched me with a smile and a little chirrup slipped from her full lips. But the tail didn't disappear.

I dropped her arms and faltered in gaining my feet as they slid over the slippery smooth boulders. I was struggling to breathe more now than when I had tried to save her.

Her eyebrows snapped together into a frown as I backed away. A wave hit her back and pushed her closer to me. I could see her breasts, large and hanging in the water. Her chest expanded and she reached out of the water towards me.

Come!

I felt her desire thrum inside my bones. Her will communicated to me in a low resonating tingle against my skin and my mind. Her song  was so much stronger this close. It caused an immediate reaction. My cock sprang to life in my waterlogged jeans pressing with a sudden painful throb against my lower belly. But her spell of sexual arousal was overwhelmed by my own feelings of white hot shame and confusion.

I had just tried to save this woman, this creature. Now I was betraying her by perving on her naked body? And betraying Celia. Wasn't I? I was utterly overcome and stunned by her otherworldly body and my reaction to it.

I turned into the night and ran.

[fredzillas-blog1]

A MOODBOARD → FRED & JUBILEENA.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re getting sick of me already.”

                “Fredrick... you know I could never get sick of you.”

@jubileenabingbing

[coffeeshib]

Kara just really really wants to date Lena supercorp au?

“Date me,” Kara says.

“No,” Lena answers calmly.

Kara gasps, blinking fast, shocked by the nonchalant response. Lena merely looks at her tablet, her attention clearly divided. Her best friend sits cross-legged next to her on the couch, sweater and sweatpants and socks on, comfortable and relaxed.

“No? But—Lena, I’m cute and funny.” Kara scrunches her nose and squints at Lena’s tablet screen.

Lena pauses. “That’s true,” she says slowly, and finally looks at Kara. Lifting her hand up, she pushes Kara’s glasses back up on her nose using her index finger. Then, she only just returns her attention back to her tablet.

Alex squints at them from across the room. “Oh, great,” she groans, before standing up and taking her phone out of her pocket. “Where's Kelly?” she mumbles to herself as she leaves the living room, making her way to Lena’s balcony.

“Is that—wait, so is that a yes?”

“It’s a no, Kara. I only agreed with the cute & funny part,” Lena says, distracted.

“Lena.” Kara's mouth opens and closes, eyes blinking fast. “Wow, you don’t let a girl down easy. Sad girl down!”

“Well, get back up,” Lena quips. She strokes Kara’s knee, touch tender.

“I—what—?” Kara stammers, with wild eyes. Falling backwards on the couch, she stares at the ceiling. “I can’t believe you—is this how you usually respond when someone asks you out? So this is what rejection feels like.”

“Trust me, you’ll feel better after eating a plate full of potstickers.”

“Maybe.” Kara bites her bottom lip. Frowning, she sits back up and pokes Lena’s thigh. “But can I ask why not? I have abs, Lena.”

Lena wheezes. A few seconds later, Kara also shakes in silent laughter as well.

“Look,” Kara says, touches her glasses and licks her lips. She’s trying to keep a straight face on. “I’ll play with your hair everyday and give you lots of face kisses if you date me.”

“Well…” Setting the tablet down, Lena pretends to think about it.

Then, the balcony door opens and Alex shows up again, walking in. 

Lena shoots Alex a please help me look, but Alex pretends she doesn’t see it as she refills her glass of water. After that, she dashes out of the room so quickly she becomes a blur of red hair and black clothes.

Damn her.

Kara sees Lena’s face and pouts, taking her arms back. Lena whimpers, because the heaters aren’t on and it’s cold right now and Kara’s hands on her waist were keeping her warm, goddamnit.

Lena tries, and fails, to pull Kara’s arms back around her.

“Kara. Those arms, put them back where they came from—”

Kara does as told, and indulges her. “I have decided that this is the last time I’m going to cuddle you. I only cuddle people I date.”

“Lies.”

“It’s true.”

Lena breaks into a smile—or rather a smirk, really. “It’s not. Don’t threaten to deprive me of your warm hugs and cuddles.”

“Oh, Lena.” Kara sighs. “You see, I would pay so much more attention to you if you dated me. Your best friend who has abs. So, maybe date me?”

Lena considers it for a second, then wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think so.”

“Wha—” Kara stutters, offended. “I'll have you know I'm an excellent girlfriend. I'll bring you flowers and chocolate and give you nose kisses. You’re the perfect height to receive nose kisses from me.”

Lena only stares at her, the corners of her mouth twitching into something like a smile.

Then, someone laughs—loud.

They both look up to see Alex on the balcony with a ridiculous goofy smile on her face, phone next to her ear.

“Look at Alex. I want that. Did you know that Alex’s girlfriend takes her on a date every week, each Saturday, and has a special routine? Kelly gives Alex’s face ten kisses every night, all over her face. It’s relationship goals.”

Lena cracks a smile. “Gay.”

Kara nods solemnly. “Gay.”

“Women, huh, Kara.” Lena arches an eyebrow at her.

“Hush, Lena. I’m still coming to terms with it.”

Lena tilts her head, smiling amusedly. “Kara, you’ve been ‘coming to terms with it’ since… well, since you met me. I think you have it figured out by now.”

Kara shrugs. “I mean… I still don’t know for sure, Lena. See, I’ve never dated a woman before—”

���—What on earth are you talking about, you dated Lucy before she left National City—”

“—How do I truly know if I like women if I have never felt the warmth of a woman’s touch? I’ve walked my whole life confused, lost and scared, hidden from showing my true self to anyone—”

“—Kara, Eliza said “I know” when you came out to her—”

Kara sighs deeply, eyes wide. “How do I just know when I don’t even know how to hold a woman’s hand?”

Lena takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “And I thought I was the dramatic one. Darling, you astound me.”

Kara sighs, sad and dejected. “Lena, what was that quote about tiddies?”

“The what now?”

“From Sappho’s. I think it was something like ‘may you sleep on the breast of your delicate friend’? Yeah, it’s that. Oh to sleep on the breast of my delicate friend.” Kara cries. “That’s what I want, too.”

Lena falls down on Kara’s chest, laughter bubbling inside her chest and trying to squirm away. Kara doesn't let her, instead she just cackles along with her. Lena bites Kara on the neck, who doesn't even flinch, which, what the fuck—instead just shifts Lena back to sitting up and then dramatically sprawls out on her back even more.

“Date me, Lena,” Kara says. “Date me, date me, date me—”

“Kara.” Lena sighs, squeezing Kara’s hand. “I am not going to date you. You would spend more time at the gym than you would with me.” She pokes her abs.

“Oh, no.” Kara sniffs. “But you like and enjoy how strong I am. Don't think I don't notice how flustered you get when I pick you up or hold you in my arms.”

Lena looks faintly pink. “That's none of your business,” she says calmly. “I like muscles, you're not special.” Kara only just now notices Lena’s wrinkled sweater from the earlier actions, and starts smoothing them.

“You look nice. You look really good in my clothes.”

Lena sits still as Kara fixes her up, keeping a poker face even when Kara tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I look good in everything.”

“But my clothes are simply the best.” Then, Kara gasps. “Yet another reason you should date me.”

Lena sighs, shifting her weight around in Kara’s lap. It’s quiet for a bit, eyes on each other as they listen to Alex talking outside.

Kara takes the opportunity to cup Lena’s face. When Lena doesn’t move, just stays still in Kara’s lap, Kara gives Lena a kiss on the cheek.

Lena pulls back.

“Kara! What was that.” Lena raises an eyebrow, incredulous. Her hands slip under Kara’s shirt, palm on her abs.

“I'm trying to seduce you,” Kara says, trying to keep a straight face, and stops Lena’s wandering hands underneath her shirt.

“It isn't working.”

“Darn.”

Lena nods. “You need to work on your skill.”

“Yes, well… that's not exactly what the last person I had sex with said.”

Lena frowns. “Wait, what? When did you have sex with someone?”

“Hmm. Just yesterday, some woman from a friend’s birthday party. She was lovely. Pretty, too. Why, you jealous?”

Lena scoffs. “No,” she says. Kara pokes her cheek.

“Aw, jealous baby,” Kara coos. “How can you be jealous when you’re not even dating me?”

“I’m not jealous,” Lena insists. “I know what you taste like. I know how you are, and I’m very sure I’m not missing out on much.”

“Oh, really now.” Kara breathes a laugh. “I made you cry the last time we hooked up! You were begging so much—Kara, Kara, please! Kara please, want you to touch me, fuck me now, don’t stop, please, please—”

Lena lets out a strangled noise and quickly quiets Kara, squishing her palm against Kara’s mouth. After a moment, when Kara shows no sign of talking anymore, Lena hesitantly takes her hand off Kara’s mouth.

“So, it’s really a big no on dating me, huh.”

Lena pauses, biting her lip.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Amazing,” Kara whispers. “Lena, are we still pretending it wasn't you that I danced & flirted with at Kelly’s birthday party? I even guided you all the way back to your bed. It's been one whole day since you've last gotten—well, um. You know. Are you okay? How are you surviving?”

“I’m thriving.” Lena breathes out. “I’m living my best life. Been doing some soul searching, too. Finding myself.”

Kara wheezes.

“If you really want to date me,” Lena says, seriously, “you would make me some tea and let me do my work peacefully.”

Kara turns incredulous. “But Lena, I can't move.” She cries. “You’re in my lap, snuggled toasty warm against me and feeling me up. You get up!”

Lena slumps down until Kara’s back hits the couch and Lena’s lying completely on Kara. Kara immediately hugs her with her toned arms. 

“No,” Lena says. “I’m cold, warm me up.”

“Ice block human,” Kara whispers. “Date me.”

“No,” Lena says, groaning right into Kara’s ear. She tucks her face into Kara’s neck, her lips touching the skin there. “No, for the last time. I will not date you, Kara Danvers.”

“Golly—that’s not even my full name. How many times can you break a woman's heart today? Aren’t you quite the heartbreaker.”

Lena only makes a muffled sound against her neck.

“No more straps. I’m never giving you some ever again,” Kara decides.

“But I like it when you use the strap. Why not?”

Kara scoffs. “I meant the sour straps. Lollies—my snacks in the cupboards. But since you brought that up, I mean that, too.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Lena pulls herself away, now sitting on Kara’s thighs.

“Dead serious. I’m cute, funny, and I have abs. And as you already know, my strap game is rather incredible. Ask yourself if you deserve the hot package.”

Lena sighs, looking like she’s really considering it. “Kara.”

“I’m a hot item.”

“Come on now, Kara…”

Kara sighs and turns her head to the side, dramatically.

Lena shakes her head. “This doesn’t need to be complicated.”

Kara frowns. “Oh, I see it now. All this time, the only reason why you like me is because of my strap game. I should have known.”

“Oh my god.”

Kara fake sniffs. “No matter, Lena. You’re my favourite person. I still love you, even knowing this.”

Lena mock slaps her on the shoulder, turning it into a gentle hand when it moves up on Kara’s cheek.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? And pretty, too,” Lena murmurs. Kara takes Lena’s hand off her cheek and presses a kiss to the palm, eyes never leaving Lena’s. Lena’s cheeks darken with colour.

“You’re prettier.”

Lena swallows. “Kara, I—”

“I can’t take this any longer.” Alex opens the door loudly and stomps her way inside. “Can you two stop fucking flirting for one goddamn minute?”

“Alex, I have no idea what you're talking about,” Lena states, blinking. “Kara, darling, could you please remove your hand from my boob?”

Kara gives Lena’s boob a soft squeeze, her other hand cupping bare skin from where she's slipped her hand underneath Lena's sweater.

“I don’t want to.”

“Okay, then.”

“Oh my god,” Alex says, covering her face with her hands. “I want to go home. I need to go—now. I got what I wanted a while ago.”

“Love you, Alex. You are more than welcome to,” Kara tells her. “You’ve been here in Lena’s penthouse long enough.”

“What—you talk as if you haven’t been here all day, too.” Lena frowns.

“It’s the weekend—no work, no other stuff. What’s wrong with spending my free time with my best friend?” Kara says, cupping Lena’s face lovingly.

Lena smiles. “You’re sweet.”

Alex stares at them, horrified. “Wow, it’s like… it’s like listening to highschoolers on a first date!”

“Um, but we aren't dating, Alex,” Kara reminds her sister gently.

“No, no, you're right, Kara. You aren't dating,” Alex agrees, and takes a deep, deep breath. “You're fucking married,” she hisses, wild-eyed. “I was the goddamn maid of honour at your wedding. You live here and you co-parent a cat with Lena. You've been married for like, three years now. Which makes your strange, awful flirting so much worse, Kara Danvers-Luthor!"

Kara and Lena only look at each other, snickering.

———

(not-so?) SURPRISE THEY’RE MARRIED

[sweetestlamb]

No Limits

Summary: Today's episode but minus the lies and with extra sexual tension but it gets resolved, somewhat.

Author's note: Today's episode called me a 🤡 too so in between writing my update for BMTL I wrote this drabble to ease my pain I love that the show keeps teasing us I really do it's delicious but I just wanted them to kiss sooooo badly today so here we go! I could keep going if people like 👀👀👀

P.s. Can an Italian tell me what exactly Vinny said to her in episode 3? Netflix says it was stupid idiot but that's stupida idiota and that doesn't sound like what he said to her in the clip. Help a writer out 🥺

She doesn't know if her father would be proud of her, or what she's been doing after turning away from Babel and reforming into a "good guy", it's borderline sanctimonious to consider herself a hero when she had spent most of the night torturing people. The ominous sound of toxic gas flooding the car still swooshes in her head, there was a moment when she'd truly considered going through with it.

Committing murder.

And he hadn't moved a single muscle to stop her, hadn't even uttered her name to pull her back in on the straight and narrow path to righteousness. In the end that had been enough to stop her, he trusted her enough to make the right decision. Every fiber of her being wanted to snuff out their lives the same way they had done to those innocent suffering families, but it was a line she couldn't return from. She should save it for a special occasion, they weren't worth tainting her soul. But there was someone else who was, Babo.

When the opportunity came, she wouldn't hesitate. Her father would have to look away because she wouldn't be stopping that time.

Before she realizes it they are outside her house, her late father's house and he's telling her good night. She'd ran out of excuses to keep sleeping at his apartment. Wanting to see him first thing when she woke up wasn't a reason she could say out loud to him, at least not sober. She was no longer scared of bumps in the night, being alone seemed more terrifying now.

"Drink with me." She whispers instead, falling back on a tried and true plan. They have become regular drinking buddies, using alcohol to cope and detach from the heinous things they see and do daily.

He looks over at her, wistful and searching before nodding solemnly. He unbuckles his belt and slides out of the car, though it is marginal she can see the hesitation in his movement and the night catches up with her. The blood is soaked into the pristine white of his collar, she recalls the hollow feeling in her chest when he didn't answer her calls and she was left with her torturous imagination. His possible death making desperate tears fall despite promising herself she wouldn't cry again.

She makes her way to the bathroom as soon as she enters the eerily quiet space, noticing the way Vincenzo peeks around the corner always on guard and she's thankful for his presence. With him, she's safe.

Pulling open her medicine cabinet she collects packets of gauze, a small bottle of antiseptic alcohol and a bandage, holding the small bundle in her arms before walking back to the living room. She finds him staring at the embarrassing photos of herself that her father had hung on the walls, she couldn't bring herself to take them down. There was so little of her father left.

"Don't let the hair fool you, I was still a heartbreaker back then. I had boys chasing after me." She lies with a smile and when he turns to look at her with those huge eyes she pauses mid step, his eyes survey her face in a distracting sweep before he smirks and walks away.

Maybe summer has come early, that would explain the sudden overwhelming heat that curls around her.

Shaking herself from her daze she calls out to him, "Hey! Come here before you bleed to death. I don't want the mafia coming after me."

The look on his face is his patent I'm going to refuse because I'm a pouty baby look and she intercepts it as she has become custom to doing, grabbing his hand and yanking him over to the kitchen table. For someone so intelligent he still hasn't learned that his refusals are futile around her.

"I'm fine. It's a shallow wound, it'll stop on its own." He argues and she wonders how many other times he has simply left a wound to fester and painfully heal on its own, was that his penance?

She shakes her head, "Why suffer when I can help you? Stop being so stubborn you're reminding me of a certain patient who you love scolding." He grows chillingly still at her words, and again a thought tingles in her mind that there's something she's missing but she presses it aside and pushes him down into the seat.

He doesn't put up a fight, going a little too easily.

"Open your shirt."

He stares at a point on the wall across the room, not responding to her command at all at first and then he looks up at her with dark eyes. She swallows deeply, raising a single brow.

When he continues to look at her without obeying her instructions she grows impatient, repeating herself, "Come on open your shirt I need to clean the wound."

Still he doesn't react and she carelessly tosses the supplies on the table, reaching out with steady fingers to unbutton his starched white shirt. He discarded the jacket earlier, so there are less layers obstructing her way. His face is unreadable as she grabs the smooth button and slips it through the hole, she gets two buttons undone before reaching the center of his chest and as if jolting back to life he suddenly grabs her hand halting her movement.

She stares at him in question, hands still on the button before he sighs at her, "I can do it myself." There's a tightness in his jaw that she can't explain and she has to stomp out the desire to run a finger across that sharp jawline.

"Okay. You do it."

Looking away she tries to give him some space but the sounds of him undressing capture her full attention and she feels her eyes shifting back captivated by the fluid motion of those dangerous hands. Knowing what they are capable of does nothing to douse the fire under her skin. Frustratedly he has a thin white shirt under the dress shirt and she can only faintly see his toned body through the material. She stares harder willing herself to develop x-ray vision, unfortunately those powers do no manifest.

"Surely I don't need to get shirtless right?" He inquires with a smug air and she glares at him, they've been playing this game for a while now. Longer than two adults should be as far as she's concerned.

In lieu of responding she picks up a fluffy cotton ball and saturates it in alcohol before dabbing at the blood on the nape of his neck, as she swipes higher he hisses at the sting and she remembers what her father would do for her when she was young and had scraped her knee. Leaning over his shoulder she puckers her lips and blows, cooling the burn.

She continues this until the cotton is soaked from the dried blood and alcohol and blowing one final time she draws back, this time she feels smugness simmering in her belly. His eyes are blown and pointedly looking away from her, she notices his tight knuckle grip on the seat of the chair as well.

"I'm all done." She announces moving away walking to the small garbage in the corner of the room. His breaths are loud in the quiet of the room, her heart echoes in tandem. Taking a deep breath she speaks without turning around, "You remember where the clothes are right? Get changed so we can drink."

She moves to the fridge to take out the platters of food they had purchased at the market earlier and the bottles of makgeolli, it was that kind of night.

He looks soft and harmless when he comes back out in a large knit sweater, without gel his hair flops across his smooth forehead and she's still not used to this sight, there's a level of domesticity that she's never had with another person. A man.

"I'll go change too." She whispers sidestepping around him, her hands brushing against his.

It's easy to get lost in their escape, slamming back gulp after gulp of the strong cloudy rice wine until her thoughts start to blur and she doesn't know what she's saying out loud and what's only privy to her brain.

When she hears herself monologuing her thoughts as she had ran into his arms in the underpass all she can do is scream internally, she can blame the alcohol but only for lowering her inhibitions really, it hadn't manifested the thoughts.

He looks stricken and oddly amused by her musings until she tells him to get up. That smile is wiped clean off his handsome face.

"I need to test it. Come on stand up." His reluctance is noted but unable to deny her once more he stands, a long suffering look on his face.

She tells him her plan, it sounds crazy even to her but for some reason he doesn't refuse or question her at all. Agreeing to all her stipulations and she's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not an Italian stallion.

Ten seconds.

That should be enough to hold her over tonight after he leaves her alone. If she can't lay beside him she needs a tiny piece of him.

Taking a running start she dashes across the small distance, slamming into his hard chest enjoying the juxtaposition of his solid body through the soft sweater. He smells amazing, even without his clothes that expensive cologne still lingers on his skin and she nuzzles into his shoulder. Curling her arm around his body she drags him tighter against her chest, her nipples pebbling with the close contact.

It's been longer than ten seconds and she knows she should stop.

But she really really doesn't want to.

Twisting onto his other side she prepares to let go, already regretting it but her sober thoughts are now pushing to the surface and she realizes what this looks like. Peering up at his face she expects to see that unreadable face again, he's annoyingly good at hiding his true emotions it makes her second this all the time.

Her insides churn when she sees the very face she expected. So she detaches and takes a step back prepared to dismiss this whole ordeal, the words denying her feelings for him already on her tongue when the biting sound of wood scraping against the floor fills the room. Jumping a little at the noise she glances over to the direction of the sound and sees his hands holding the chair in a punishing grip. He immediately releases the object at her glance but it's too late, she's already connected the pieces.

"You're holding back." She confidently states stepping back into the space she'd only just abandoned.

She doesn't ask why, that much is all too obvious.

I didn't want you to get hurt.

Being with him will put her in danger she's seen enough mafia movies to know that friends and love ones are always the first to be taken as leverage. So he'd decided all on his own that this, couldn't be and she was better off without him.

"Stupid idiot." She tries her best to repeat those explosive words with the same emphasis he's used when he had spat her in face not too long ago, watching with satisfaction as surprise shrouds his face as the Italian glides off her tongue. She'd been practicing for a while now, mostly curses words.

Fanculo, was still a favorite. What a fun way to say fuck.

She doesn't give him a chance to question her sudden switch in languages, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer, even more so than the hug they'd just shared.

"We're supposed to share everything, even passion." She boldly declares watching with fascination as he still tries to hold on to his semblance of control, the chair squeaks loudly under his hold and she lunges forward putting them both out of their misery.

It feels like coming home.

If your home was a sauna built on an active volcano.

Unlike their hug earlier this time there's no hesitation as soon as her lips touch his liquor moist ones he's already opening up and devouring her tongue. His immediate response makes her hungry for more, peeling his lips open with her teeth she sucks the remnants of the wine from his mouth, eagerly lapping and searching for more. He grunts at the rough treatment but doesn't back off, rather he sinks those capable hands into the depths of her hair caressing her scalp as he tugs at her head, tilting her to the right and moving instantly to the left slotting them even closer together.

The sound of their kissing is messy and loud, echoing in the still of the night.

She breaks apart with sloppy pop, gasping for air and his flushed red face greets her looking every bit as wrecked as she feels.

"Already regretting it?" He teases with an edge that's a bit too real and she yanks him forward, pressing him down into the chair and crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his thighs and their cores meeting through torturous layers. She's burning hot and moist where he's aching hard and rigid.

"Regretting waiting this long." She replies in a clear challenge waiting to see what he'll do.

"We shouldn't do this, partners is enough. You're already in enough danger as is, if they find out that we're..."

He trails off unable to finish the sentence but his clenched jaw speaks volumes. She chuckles coyly from her spot in his lap.

"What? What are we doing? What do you wish we were doing Mr. Vincenzo Cassano? Fucking? " She grinds down into his groin simultaneously and instantly he grips her hips, halting her movement with a bruising hold.

"You're playing with fire." He warns her, she can hear the metallic click of his ever present lighter at his words.

She should be scared of him, he was a world apart from what she was used to even when she'd been working with Babel, manipulation and bribery those things she could do without batting an eye but murder and torture? She'd had never done anything like this before, never. Not until this Italian Korean enigma had walked into her life and shaken it up like a margarita in a mixer. Was she making the right decision? She had no idea, right and wrong had become blurred a long time ago for her. All she knew was that the idea of not kissing him for another second made her want to pull her own hair out.

"I trust you not to burn me up. Too badly."

His eyes flash dangerously at her words and this time he's the one to initiate this kiss, cupping her head gently and dragging her into a sweeter embrace, a simmering heat now licking at her skin. She moans softly as he slips a wet tongue into her mouth, stroking at her back before pushing his hands up the back of her shirt, his hands are sweltering hot on her naked skin and she arches at the rough touch. They kiss languidly breaking apart only to come back together, each kiss wetter and more mind numbing than the last. With soft suckles to her bottom lip he pulls away, she stares at his soft smile as she chases after his retreating lips. Not ready to stop yet. She won't be ready for a long time.

He glowers at her and she waits impatiently for his next move, with strong arms he lowers her onto the table dishes clanging as he shoves them to the side laying her down like she's his last meal. She expels a loud breath allowing herself to be placed on the table, gasping as he stands looming over her.

"I'm the one in the mafia so why am I terrified of you?" He whispers too honestly, looking devastated as he stares at her helplessly all too ready to bolt.

"You don't want to get hurt."

He stares at her with liquid eyes emotions all but spilled across his face, with a whimper he closes the distance between them once more with her guiding hand on his back, this time they meet in the middle surrendering to the flames.

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

Part 26

masterlist

warning: violence. smut. penetrative sex. fingering. dirty talk. cunnilingus (mild). swearing. yandere behavior. angst 

Hello darlings! It’s here! The wedding! The angst, the heartbreak! And Taehyung too! I loved writing this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy reading it! Sorry its a long one!-- chaotic puff

The wedding was upon them faster than anyone truly realized except perhaps for Namjoon for whom the day could not come fast enough. Anyone looking for the groom would find him giving orders half done up in his tux and his hair a mess from the amount of times he had run his hands through it. More than one poor soul had been threatened by the crime lord throughout the course of the morning. Every member of staff was on edge trying not to set off the hair trigger the man seemed to be operating with. But for every bit of nervous energy the groom exuded, the bride carried herself with a sort of gentle indifference as though nothing could touch her.

She watched the bustle in the garden, the people going in and out of the house, from the vantage of her old window. For the days leading up to the wedding, Namjoon had her move to her original room where she could rest and get ready away from the bustle of the final wedding preparations. Of course she was not without someone by her side. There was a team of ladies all there devoted to making the bride look perfect, every inch the match of the great Kim Namjoon, and there was her ever present guard. On this day, it happened to be Taehyung.

He may not have been her favorite of her minders, but his joking and boxy smile had kept her calm throughout her busy morning. And she had to admit, the man had style and had been a godsend in directing the ladies in making sure she looked up to Namjoon’s standards while still looking like herself. It didn’t hurt that he had also kept a steady stream of mimosas flowing throughout the morning, and had insisted on breaks whenever she began to get overwhelmed.

He was a smart man. He’d balanced out the alcohol with the food he coaxed into her whenever she had a break from the ladies determined to make her look every inch Namjoon’s queen and made sure that the mimosas weren’t too strong. No one wanted the bride to be drunk on her wedding day, except perhaps for the bride. She would have welcomed the numbness the alcohol would have brought, but Taehyung was not about to take the fall for a drunk Y/N when Namjoon was already two seconds away from a conniption fit.  

She emerged from the closet carrying her skirt gently lifted in one hand as she came back into the main room. The satin of the gown flowed down her body hugging her figure from the sweetheart neckline till just below her hips where it flowed out in a gentle trumpet skirt with a lovely train trailing behind her. It was simple and elegant, just as everything Namjoon had arranged for the wedding. Everything about her appearance had been decided on by Namjoon as she had shown no interest in any of the wedding plans.

Her hair was pulled back in an elegant chignon on the back of her neck with her veil fixed into it with an elegant silver comb. On her finger sat the ring Namjoon had given her accompanied by the only other jewelry she wore, the earrings he had given her that first day. The pearl and diamond earrings were just as lovely now as they were then, and she looked at them with a sort of bittersweet irony. Namjoon, she had found, was a romantic at heart. The earrings were sentimental, the first piece of jewelry he had given her as his “wife”.  

“What do you think?” She asked smiling humorlessly as she played with the veil that fell down to her hips flaring it out behind her as she did a little spin.

“You look beautiful.”

“Not a hair out of place. I’ve been poked and prodded enough to ensure that.” She grimaced remembering the hours spent in hair and makeup. She’d been pulled out of bed early that morning pushed into a bath, and then swept away into wedding preparations with Taehyung happily chattering away the whole time.

“And you look perfect!” He cheered lifting a glass in her direction before throwing back the contents and reaching to fill his glass again.

“Oh no.” She huffed shooting him a dark look. “If I’m not allowed to be drunk for this affair, you’re not allowed to be drunk.”

“It’s a wedding.” He deadpanned adjusting his suit. “Everyone will be drunk before the night’s over, except for you and Namjoon. Namjoon’s way too excited for today to get drunk and ruin it. And you are on strict alcohol limits, noona. Namjoon said no tipsy brides.”

“Yeah, well he’s a spoil sport.”

“You’re the one marrying him.” He grinned playfully shoving her shoulder.

“You can have him.” She snorted taking a sip of her own mimosa which was really more orange juice than champagne at this point. “You couldn’t have brought screwdrivers instead?”

“No drunk brides.” He sing songed shooting her shit eating grin. “I’m not about to be the one hyung shoots today.”

The door opened distracting them both especially with who entered. There stood Jackson looking bedraggled in his suit and breathing heavily as though he had run to be there, and he probably had. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that Jackson was allowed anywhere near her.

“What are you doing here?” Taehyung asked standing and taking a defense stance in front of the bride. “You’re not allowed up here. Guests are supposed to be downstairs, and riff raff is supposed to stay outside with the rest of the trash.” He growled.

“Y/N.” Jackson continued ignoring Taehyung’s insult. “Y/N, please. I need to talk to you.” He begged stepping further into the room despite the dirty looks the ladies and Taehyung were giving him.

She took in a shuddering breath grabbing Taehyung’s arm for support. “Get him out of here.”

“Y/N…”

“Get him out of here!” She shouted standing from the sofa and moving to stand by the window instead her skirts rustling behind her.

“Y/N.”  He pleaded.

Taehyung stepped forward pushing Jackson back. “She doesn’t want you here.”

Jackson shoved back trying to push past the taller man. “Y/N, please. Just let me talk to you.”

“Out.” Taehyung grabbing the other man practically throwing him out of the room. “If I see you near her again, I’ll shoot you myself.” He hissed closing the door behind him. He pulled out his phone tapping a message out to the other boys before turning his attention back to the woman who was shaking over by the window. “Could you get her some water?” He murmured to one of the attendants before moving over to her. “You okay? Need me to grab Jin-hyung? He’s probably trying to sedate Namjoon hyung, but I’m sure I can steal him away. He likes you better than hyung anyway.”  

She shook her head. “How did he get in here?” She whispered staring out the window to the garden out at what would very shortly be her wedding ceremony.

“I don’t know, but I’ll check the CCTV footage. If you don’t want Jin, I can call Jungkook up for you, or Yoongi?” He offered looking over her worriedly.

“I’ll be fine.”

He paused looking her over for a minute as if contemplating something. “I’ll call Jungkook. He’ll be here in a minute.”

And he was. The younger man came bursting into the room only a few minutes later looking over at her frantically. “Noona!” He crowed swooping her up in hug and spinning her around when he reached her.

“Kook!” Taehyung scolded trying to pull the other man off of her. “You’re going to mess up her hair!”  He fussed over her making sure her veil was still in place and that her hair and dress were fine once Jungkook has set her on his own two feet again.

“You look beautiful, noona.” He gave her his bunny grin before glowering at his hyung. “How did that fucker get up here?”

“I don’t know! I’m going to go check the security cameras! See you at the ceremony, noona.” He shot her a wink before moving to take his leave.

“You okay, noona?” He asked giving her a puppy dog look despite the fact that he was much taller than her and all muscle.

“I’ll be fine, Kookie.” She gave him a weak smile wrapping her arms around herself. “How long till the ceremony?”

“I need to get you down there soon. Probably in the next half hour or so.”

“So soon?” She whispered.

“You’ll be fine, noona.” He assured looping an arm over her shoulder comfortingly. “And now you’ll really be our noona! You’ll be hyung’s wife!”

“You sure we can’t just get in a car and go?” She asked staring down at the guests milling around in the garden. She knew none of them, but she knew they were probably all mafia connections of Namjoon’s.

Soon enough Miss In came to usher them down stairs. Jungkook let her loop her arms through his, using him as support as they descended the stairs towards what felt like her impending doom. Marriage was far more permanent than kidnapping. It was legal, binding. That was what Namjoon wanted. He wanted her bound to him to tightly she could never leave.

Someone handed her bouquet. White peonies. Everything was white peonies. She knew the meaning of the peony, and it left a sour taste in her mouth. Romance. Prosperity. Good fortune. A happy marriage. That’s what he wanted, a happy marriage, and he was going to get it whether she wanted to give it to him or not. He was going to have it all, the romance, the prosperity, the good fortune, and the happy marriage too.

She would have chosen anemones, aconite too. Loneliness and hatred. That was what this marriage would be for her. Loneliness and hatred. This was not the life she wanted for herself, and she wanted it even less as Jin came to stand beside her ready to lead her down the aisle where she could see Namjoon waiting. She had to try though. What other choice did she have?

She didn’t register the music, nor did she pay attention to the eyes of the guests on her. Her focus was on Namjoon. He looked dashing in his tux, she hated to admit, with his hair pushed back from his forehead, and a smile on his face that looked absolutely blissful showcasing those damn dimples of his.

Jin kept her steady as he led her down the aisle, his hand a comforting weight on her arm keeping her grounded a she wanted nothing more than to run back up the aisle and disappear. It was the most emotion she had felt in weeks.

Jin handed her over to Namjoon placing a gentle kiss on her cheek and murmuring words of encouragement into her ear before he did.

She didn’t really remember the ceremony. It was all a blur to her up until the moment it was her turn to say ‘I do’. Namjoon squeezed her hands bringing her back to the present reminding her it was time to seal her fate. Odd how two little words could carry so much weight. They were almost suffocating. She said them though, her voice barely a whisper.

The officiant had them sign the papers there an then placing their stamps on the paperwork sealing her fate. Namjoon’s happiness was almost dizzying once it was done. It radiated from him in waves washing over her almost nauseatingly.

He pulled her into a sweet kiss savoring the fact that she was his now, well and truly his. There would be no escape for her now.

The reception passed by in almost the same blur for her as the ceremony had. Person after person came up to congratulate the happy couple. And she did her part. She smiled. She thanked people. She remained by Namjoon’s side like a good obedient little wife should all the while feeling hollow, an empty shell of herself.

“You look beautiful, jagi.” Namjoon whispered pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Absolutely stunning.” She didn’t respond staring off into the distance. “Are you alright, jagi?” He asked lightly squeezing her hand.

She started looking up at him with wide eyes. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a little tired.” He hummed eyes scanning over her for any signs of fatigue. “I think I just need a minute. I think I’ll go over to the pagoda if that’s alright with you.” Her smile was thin, strained.

“I’ll get you some water and meet you there.” He murmured releasing her with a content smile, one that she did not return instead lifting her skirt slightly and making her way through the garden paths and towards he pagoda.

It was evening now and the garden was lit up like a fairy land as the guests milled around. One occasionally stopped her, offered their congratulations, and she thanked them with a tired smile. It was a relief when she reached the pagoda. It too was lit up just like the rest of the garden, but it was far enough away from the main festivities that she could have a moment of peace.

She basked in the night air leaning over the railing to stare down at the dark water of the pond. The surface was smooth, glasslike in the night. This was one of her favorite spots in the garden. She often took tea here. It had a beautiful view of the gardens, and was shielded from the sun. She and Namjoon had even taken meals there together on occasion.

“Y/N?” She stiffened at the sound of the familiar voice. Whirling around she found herself faced with Jackson.

“What are you doing here?” She hissed bracing herself against the railing. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Y/N, please, just talk to me.” He pleaded walking towards her despite the way she flinched away from him.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Please, Y/N, I’m trying. We don’t have much time.”

“You should go.”

He sighed pulling a hand through his hair agitatedly. “I know. I know. I just need you to talk to me. This was never my intention. You have to know that.”

“I don’t know anything anymore.” She scoffed inching her way along the railing looking for a way around him.  

“Y/N, please, I can get you out of here. I just… I just need some time.”

She laughed, the sound bordering on hysterical. “It’s too late for that now. I’m married, Jackson. I’m fucking married!”

“I know. I’m sorry, little bear.”

“You have no right to call me that anymore. You’re a liar.”

“No.”

“You’re a liar and a sneak. Where you ever going to tell me?”

He ran his fingers through his hair again growling under his breath. “You didn’t need to know. You’d been…”

“Don’t!” She shrieked. “Don’t pull that shit on me. I’m not some fragile flower you need to protect. I never was.”

“Just listen to me!” He yelled surging forward and grabbing her upper arms. He shook her slightly his grip on her uncomfortably tight.

It was only for a moment though. In the next second he was ripped off of her pressed against one of the beams of the pagoda, Namjoon’s hand around his throat. “Step away from my wife.” He growled eyes blazing with a cold fury. “I thought I told you never to go near her again? Are you deaf or just stupid?” He hissed cocking his head to the side curiously as Jackson clawed at his hand trying to get him to release the strangle hold he had on him.

Namjoon released him, only to send him flying to the ground in the next second with a brutal punch. Namjoon circled him his movements slow and deliberate as he examined the man before him. Jackson’s nose was bleeding, and he was dazed, but he made a move to get up, only to receive a savage kick to the rips sending him sprawling to the ground again.

Namjoon tsked staring down at him with disdain still circling him like a predator. Namjoon’s men were there in an instant pulling Jackson up and holding him on his knees as Namjoon stared him down. “I warned you, Jackson.” He sighed looking down at the man with something akin to disappointment, but there was a sick sort of glee in his eyes belied the fact that he was enjoying this far too much to be disappointed.

He sent another sharp hit to Jackson’s head followed swiftly by another.

“Stop it.” She shrieked pressed back against the railing. “Stop!”

But Namjoon ignored her sending another harsh hit to the man’s face. Yoongi and Hoseok held Jackson still, completely unbothered by the violence. Hoseok looked almost gleeful while Yoongi remained impassive, almost bored by it all.

“Stop it!” She shrieked again tears welling up in her eyes as she surged forward to take hold of Namjoon’s arm before he could throw another punch. Jackson was already bloody and bruised, and she didn’t want to see any more of it.  

“Please stop.” She whispered shivering in the night breeze. “Joonie, please.” He froze hearing the nickname.  He looked down at her in surprise eyes flitting over her features taking note of the distress displayed there. “Please, Joonie.” She whispered tightening her hold on his arm.

He sighed turning his attention back to the bloodied man. “Take him away. I never want to see his face here again.” His eyes narrowed dangerously as he lifted Jackson’s face up to look at him. “The next time you cross me, I won’t be so gracious.”

He turned then, back to Y/N while he wiped the blood from his hands with a handkerchief. “I think it’s time to retire, jagi.” He held out a hand, and she obediently took it allowing him to pull her into his side and lead her out of the pagoda.

She was shaking the whole way through the garden and back into the house. Namjoon ignored the guests trying to give them well wishes, focusing on bringing her back inside. He took her back to the master bedroom gently leading her into the walk-in closet where he carefully undid the zipper of her dress allowing her to step out of the heavy mass of fabric before draping the white robe that the attendants from earlier had her in over her shoulders.

He sat her down at the vanity pulling off her veil and setting it aside before setting to work on the myriad of pins that had been shoved into her hair that morning. He took his time, gently pulling out each pin and setting it on the vanity. Slowly, her head was released allowing her hair to tumble over her shoulders where Namjoon laid a trial of kisses over the fabric of the robe.

They hadn’t been intimate since that first time. He was frightened of setting her off, but tonight was different. Tonight was their wedding. Tonight she was his, and he had every intention of having her.

She stared at him in the mirror watching as he trailed kisses over her shoulders gently moving the robe away from her shoulder allowing it to catch at her elbows.

“You were absolutely radiant today.” He purred eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “A vision.” A kiss to the junction of her neck and shoulder. “A goddess.” Another kiss placed higher up. “Won’t you let me worship you, jagi?”

She nodded mutely, allowing him to pull her up and sweep her up into a bridal hold as he carried her into the bedroom dropping her onto the beds before crawling on top of her kissing a trail from her navel up. He straightened up straddling her waist as he removed his shirt before his hands came down ripping her bra in two throwing the ruined contraption away as she gasped at the unexpectedly brutal movement.

“Beautiful.” He growled leaning back down to lavish attention on her now exposed breasts.

He toyed with the flesh there, pulling, sucking biting watching in satisfaction as her breathing became heavier. She groaned as he delivered a sharp nip to the sensitive nub grinning from ear to ear as he trailed kissed back down her skin towards the apex of her thighs. He stopped when he reached the lacy edge of her panties, hooking a finger under the fabric and slowly pulling it down her legs before throwing it to meet her ruined bra and his shirt on the floor.

“Shhhh.” He cooed pressing his hands down on her thighs to keep her still as she began to shift nervously. He placed a wet kiss to the skin of her inner moving upwards towards his goal. “Let me make you feel good, jagi.” He ran a finger up her slit flicking her clit and reveling in the way she whimpered under his touch.

 “You’re hardly wet at all, jagi. We can’t have that, now can we?” He hummed sympathetically shooting her a predatory grin before burying his head between her thighs.

She gasped back arching off the bed at the first feel of his tongue against her clit. Marcus had never done this to her, but Namjoon seemed all too pleased to do it. He pressed his lips over her core, sucking her clit into his mouth as her body jerked a high pitched whine escaping her mouth. She could feel him grin against her. The smug bastard.

His tongue teased her clit, pleasure winding its way up her spine as he worked. His hands kept their grip on her thighs holding her in place as he continued teasing her, nipping and licking at her cunt and drinking up the arousal that was gathering there. Eventually one of his fingers came up teasing her slit as he worked over her clit before slipping inside her pulling another moan from her. He slowly thrust his fingertips in and out of her working her over before slipping in another finger and then another relishing the way she keened and moaned as he curled them within her pumping them in and out at a quicker pace bringing her closer and closer to her high before she came with a scream falling back against the mattress as she came down.

Namjoon didn’t stop there though. He continued to tease her ignoring her whines of protest as he sucked on her clit harshly fucking his fingers into her determined to make her cum again.  

“Namjoon!” She warbled out trying to push him away, oversensitivity taking hold pleasure bordering more on the side of pain now, but he growled pushing her hands away and continuing his assault until he felt her walls tighten around his fingers as she came again.

He sat up watching with satisfaction as she laid against the pillows dazed from the onslaught of two consecutive orgasms. “So beautiful.” He purred. “Look at you. So wet for me. My wife.” He swooped down taking her mouth in a harsh kiss that was more teeth than tongue, nipping her lip making her gasp. “Gonna fuck you full.” He growled. “Make you scream for me.”

“Namjoon.” She keened squirming underneath him trying to create some friction to ease the ache between her legs.

“I know, jagi.” He cooed slowly unbuckling his pants slipping them off all the while watching her with heavy lidded eyes. “Such a good girl for me.”

He settled himself between her legs rubbing his lengths over her folds coating himself in her slick, a low pleased growl escaping him. Her breath hitched as he pressed the tip of his cock into her entrance slowly pushing himself in until he was buried to the hilt letting her feel every inch of him. “You take me so well, jagi.” He moaned panting into the skin of her neck. 

He moved setting a brutal pace as his hips snapped against hers. “Namjoon!” She keened throwing her head back against the pillows. She may not have liked him, but even she had to admit he was an excellent lover. Marcus had never been so concerned about her pleasure, but Namjoon seemed to revel in it, pleased by his ability to make her moan his name despite her distaste for him.

With each thrust the tip of his cock brushed against her cervix slamming in and out of her until she was seeing stars. It wasn’t long until she felt the pressure building in her abdomen again, his cock filling her in all the right ways constantly hitting the spots that left her breathless.

“Fucking hell.” He groaned nipping at her neck. “You’re so fucking tight.”

She didn’t know how much longer she was going to last as his fingers came down to rub tight circles against her clit. She came with a high pitched scream of his name, followed not long after his pace stuttering as he released spurt after spurt of cum into her in quick succession.

He lied on top of her for a moment taking a moment to enjoy the feel of her heat around him before pulling out of her, his cum leaking out of her as he did. “I love you.” He whispered placing a light kiss to her lips. “I love you so fucking much.” Another kiss. “My wife.”

part 27

[ebthecelebrity]

I’m building a church ya’ll....

I recently read online that building a church can take from one to four years. The process consists of solidifying a committee, setting a budget, choosing a piece of land, hiring a designer or building company, and understanding building and zoning codes. Once these five steps are accomplished, it’s time to move in and start your praise and worship. These past few weeks, I have been feeling very different; like I am transitioning. I have silenced the distractions to listen to God and today he told me to build my church.  Yes, build my church…. well not literally.

Today I was off work and as much personal errands I have to run; I sit down and watch a church sermon on YouTube.  If you need a church home, please check out Transformation Church. This church is steadily transforming my life, since I started faithfully watching during the pandemic.  It starts off casually, with me eating some ice cream and watching Pastor Michael Todd.  Then within a few minutes in, the Holy Ghost hit me in my living room.   I break out in a praise and the tears just start rolling down my cheeks. It is a much-needed loud cry. Feels like it’s from deep within my soul of whatever pain I have been holding onto.  God will do you like that!  He truly catches you slipping and before you know it, you’re running and screaming in your home like the Exorcist.  I stand up and raise my hands because God was deserving of the praise. Everything that I had been silently enduring, God tells me “It’s over. Start building your church.”  Being obedient, I start researching how to build a church and this analogy came to mind.

The first step in the construction of your church is solidifying a building committee. This is the group of people who will help your vision come to life. They assist you with decision making, and the budget. Also, let’s face it...building a church can be stressful, this congregation helps you with your mental health.  When you think about your tribe, your circle, your true family…. this is them!  Who are the people in your life at this very moment, that will be a part of your building committee? Who is dependable, good spirited, honest, and loyal? I have so many “friends” but not all of them fit this description. I am so loyal that if I know a person from the 2nd grade, I’m still referring them as my “friend.” Not everyone deserves this title. It’s important to know that if you follow God’s purpose, not every soul he has placed in your life deserves to go with you while you are in construction mode. This distinction will save you future heartbreak, confusion, and time. I’ve started assessing who I follow on social media, phone numbers I am keeping, and calls I am answering. Your building committee must hold you accountable and also support you for the rest of your life. Who is your congregation?

The next step is to set your budget. What are some of your short-term goals? Do you have the cash readily available to make it happen now? If you don’t have it, how are you going to get it? Budgeting is key. When I sit back and think about the goals I have in place for the next year, I want to be able to set myself up for success and be ready.  Setting a short-term goal is just as important, if not more, than a long term one. There is so much emphasis on long term planning, but what we really are ignoring is the fact that tomorrow is not even promised. I start to think about the Amazon, Door Dash, and alcohol I’ve purchased this pandemic and none of that contributes to my short-term goals. If you budget your church construction today, you won’t come across any hiccups when it’s time to start building. Write down 5 short term goals and work towards them NOW. Whether these goals will cost you $200 or $20,000, time is of the essence.  Stop wasting time, get your church off the ground.  

Choosing your land is a very important piece of a church construction project.  The land represents your temple. How is your health? When I ask myself this, I get a little emotional.  I am not unhealthy, but I have definitely neglected my body for a long time. I can feel it after a late-night alcohol binge.  I can see it when I look at the mirror.  Your land will dictate the design for your church. When you start building, you want your land to be in perfect shape to be able to hold a stable structure.  When you allow others to use your temple casually, your land is less desirable. The way society praises casual sex and junk food has really disrupted the mindset of how important it is to keep your land beautiful. Getting adequate exercise, practicing good health habits, eating a balanced diet, self-care for mental health and having a healthy sexual relationship are all a part of what can affect the value of your lot and your ability to BUILD. How is your lot right now? What is your value?

The blueprint of your church is the outline of your life. It’s your plan that will eventually lead you to your purpose. I had been struggling with my purpose for years and I finally realized it during the pandemic at the age of 37.  When the world closed down, it allowed me the opportunity to get still and focus on what God called me to do here on this earthly journey. Carefully designing your church takes prayer, concentration, and also the help of your congregation. You hire yourself as the designer and building company because ultimately, YOU are in control of YOUR life. Have you ever rode by a beautiful and breathtaking church and thought to yourself, “Wow! I would love to see how it looks inside”? That is the same effect that your God driven purpose is to have on others around you.  Design your church to be attractive, where every person you encounter leaves inspired and motivated.  Let your presence be felt beyond your years, leaving a legacy.  You know when the Pastor of a church passes away and the ministry continues? Well, that happens the same way when you design your church in the way that God made fit.  Do you have your blueprint ready?

Last but certainly not least, understanding the building and zoning codes are a must! The tedious paperwork has to be done in life in order to do right by your congregation. Navigating through life takes adulting and this is where your t’s are crossed and your I’s are dotted.  Do you have life insurance? Do you have a will in place? If you have a child(ren), there is no excuse for you not to have these in place. Let’s face it, we all have an appointment with our maker, so please have your church in order when it’s your time. Understanding that with leveling up, there comes responsibility.  I recently drafted my will last year with an attorney and it was such a relief to get that out of the way. I put everything down from my medical demands to my funeral arrangements. There is no confusion.  Just like your church home, navigating the laws and paperwork is crucial.  Make it a necessity to have these things in order, as times a wasting.

So, I’m building a church right now. If I am unavailable, distant, or short with you please don’t take it personal.  As I mentioned this process may take one to four years to complete. I suggest that you start building yours too. For church is not for the perfect human being, it’s for the imperfect one who needs structure and guidance every day.

[wellamarke]

Alright. This is going to be shorter than I planned because I keep tying myself in knots over the very first shot, but I'm going to skip straight to my main point about the Dashing White Sergeant, which is this:

Nobody gets to dance with the person opposite them in the circle.

That is not how the dance works. In DWS, you dance with two people: the ones either side of you, in your row of 3. Yes, to be fair, you join hands and walk back and forth to meet your opposite person, but that person never gets your hand. So, how, pray, do we get this:

AND this:

Well, it's because, in what is arguably his boldest move since 'carrots', Gilbert breaks the set and spins Anne over to his side:

When what they're supposed to have done is this:

ie. Diana, Gilbert and Jane should have performed a straight swap with Caleb, Anne and Charlie. That twirl? Does not exist in the Dashing White Sergeant.

This absolute... opportunist, sees his moment and risks throwing the whole dance just to get to hold Anne's hand. I'm so proud.

The first time they come into the centre he's all smirky, because yes, being face-to-face is fun and an excellent twist on their usual head-to-head. But that's not enough, he wants to dance with her. He's going to get his hand-hold after 3 years of waiting for it, damn it all.

(I know, I know, I'm coming late even to the Netflix release and I've missed the intense week-long dissection of the scene by literal months, so obviously all this has been said. But it's NEW TO ME and I haven't seen the text posts so I'm going to still talk about it).

There is so much metaphorical resonance here.

The two positions (beside and opposite) are supposed to be irreconcilable in the dance. Anne and Gilbert are two people who so often oppose each other but, when it comes to things that really matter, they are on the same side. Likewise, the parts of the dance they spend opposite each other are fleeting, and for the main section, they are on the same side.

Both Anne and Gilbert are the center dancers of their row (the center is the only person who dances throughout - all 4 corner dancers wait out certain bars). This mirrors how both of them have their own storylines, concerns, goals etc in the show. But when Gilbert breaks the set, positioning Anne as to his choosing, he doesn't make her a corner dancer. Instead, she becomes the center dancer of his line. What an interesting fact about the axis on which Planet Gilbert spins.

Even when they're part of the same row, things aren't straightforward: there's a third person involved. In real life it's Winnie; in the dance it's Charlie. Gilbert watches Anne with Charlie and has to wait out the bar. Anne will have to do the same with Winnie.

At the end of the dance - literally in the last few bars - he returns Anne to her original position. In practical terms, this means Mrs Lynde doesn't have anything to complain about, as there's no evidence by the end that the set was ever broken. In sneaky terms, it means he gets to finish the dance face-to-face making eyes with Anne, and not Jane or Diana. In heartbreaking terms, it foreshadows how (at least for now) the discoveries made during the dance aren't going to change their relationship, as everything goes 'back to normal' on the outside. In romantic terms, it could be seen as Gilbert saying: "I want you by my side, but in the end, I'll put you before myself" (in the sense that 'before' can also mean 'in front of').

Breaking the set ought to have thrown everything off - if nobody else moves, Gilbert has put Anne next to Diana, so the boy-girl-boy-girl pattern is lost. The fact that the dance is able to continue means that others have moved to compensate. Crucially, one of them is Diana, who is best placed to perform damage control as it's her spot Anne's moved into -– foreshadowing her manoeuvring the situation on the train and saving the day! But it's not just Diana: everyone in the set will have noticed the shift – mirroring how the whole of Avonlea are basically aware of how these two feel about each other before they are.

Or, in more mathematical terms, the other 4 people in the set, shifting to make way for Shirbert, represent the 4 people with the most to say about Shirbert: Jane plays Winnie (telling Anne she isn't engaged to Gilbert; this parallel works weirdly well since Jane and Gilbert are seen dancing together, and Jane's traditional values mirror Winnie's 'expectations') Diana plays herself (being the person best placed to call Gilbert out the train journey, and being the person best placed to compensate in the dance itself, since Anne's in her spot. Damn, she even does the callout opposite him in a train carriage, a position usually held by Anne). Charlie plays Cole (telling Anne about Gilbert's crush; interesting, then, that Charlie's got a crush on Anne) and Caleb Lynde plays Bash (knowing about Shirbert before so much as meeting Anne; and would you LOOK at that, I was about to say I can't find a link between Caleb and Bash, but the link is MISS STACY!)

Most dancers look in the direction they are skipping in for the circle part of the dance: Gilbert and Anne look dead across at each other before the swap, and then after the swap:

...yeah, they're looking at each other the whole time, even for the direction change - which means that one of them is always skipping 'backwards' (sideways, but against the direction they're facing, led by the other). If that ain't a metaphor for trust, I don't know what is. Also, they will each be the backwards-facer for the same amount of steps, and if that ain't a metaphor for compromise... you get what I'm saying.

I will probably think of a few more resonances after posting this, and yes, I know that I'm reaching on some of it, but even without all that symbolism, you HAVE to hand it to Gilbert. As far as he knows this might be the only time he'll ever get to dance with Anne, so he's going to make the most of EVERY SECOND, and dance more with her in that one rehearsal than any other couple in the room have managed in two.

Something else I like, as well, is that he knows the format of the dance from watching the initial demonstration - so he COULD have tried the spin in the first run-through. But he doesn't do it until he gets the vibe from their first face-to-face that Anne, maybe... isn't opposed to dancing with him. (Also, he waits 'til he's invalided Moody out of the running, freeing his buddy up to give them some nice twinkly backing music... Gosh, Gilbert, how far back does your web of cunning go?!)

Just as a parting shot, I'll point out that Miss Stacy is the one who pushes Gilbert (nonsensically) to the other side of the room, where Anne ends up. I say nonsensically because at the beginning they're standing like this:

with Gilbert being the ONLY boy on the right hand side of the room, so no way should he be moving across. What actually needs to happen is that two boys from the left should go to join him. Gilbert should have stayed put. But no, Miss Stacy wants him over there:

She ships it, y'all.

Gilbert then stands for a bit in the middle of the room, foreshadowing his indecision/being torn between two options later on:

Look at him, stroking his chin, all confused! Thankfully, Mrs Lynde is there to park him firmly on the left side of the room, ensuring proximity to Anne. Thanks, Rachel. Thanks, Ms Stacy.

And most of all, thanks to whoever choreographed this scene! It took me so long to get a comprehensive look at Gilbert's actions because I kept getting distracted by everything else that's going on: Ruby, Tillie and Jane are all wonderful too, and let's not forget Moody and Charlie partnering each other just before Mrs Lynde yells 'stop'. Wonderful. Perfect scene is perfect.

[echo-three-one]

A Forgotten Memory

An Alex x OC fic

The final chapter. 😭

Link to chapter 1 here

Prev (XII - Samantha)

It was a wild ride. I hope you had fun.

XIII - Alex

"Goodbye, Alex." she whipered. The sound of her voice echoed in his mind distracting him from the matter at hand.

"Alex." He snapped as his new commanding officer asked him.

"Yes sir. I do recall Jack on his way to the safehouse that midnight." he quickly replied as he came back on his senses. Jack's MIA , because of this. It looked like he's also dealing with two losses.

"Okay. For now, intel has acquired nighttime activity on a warehouse not far from the previous warehouse. It seemed like they built a tunnel of underground connections from one place to another." The CO explained, showing footage of activity by the warehouse.

"So, how sure are you that that's our targets?" A man roared from the table. He's the Head of the CIA's anti terrorism department, quite intimidating and demanding for Alex's liking.

"Patience, we're also looking on to your intel, Sir. As a matter of fact, without Jack, you'll be leading us along with Alex here." He said, pointing to the warehouse completely away from the other one.

He paused, it looked like he didn't want to tag along but everyone was looking at him.

"Fine. If I lead, I say we leave in 2 hours. Go prepare." he declared, dismissing the whole team. Once he left, one of the heads nudged to Alex.

"We cloned his burner phone while he was on a meeting. He's the CIA mole we're looking for. He's helping Nero but his reasons were quite unknown." he whispered. Alex nodding in approval. His anger boiled when he finally found the one messing with Samantha's life.

"This one's for you, Samantha" he whispered to himself, clenching his fist as they prep for their warehouse invasion.

~

"This actually looks shady as fuck." One of Alex's squadmates peeked at the thick forestry below them.

"Detecting multiple heat signatures around the trees but nothing on the warehouse. They're not engaging." Another one added.

"Proceed with caution." The suspected mole commanded, readying up his gear.

"Are you sure, Sir? This looks like an ambush." Alex commented, everyone fell silent.

"RPG!" The pilot yelled as the head of counter terrorism, or Alex would like to call Mr. Mole, immediately posed to jump out. He quickly dashed to him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt as he's almost in midair.

"We have flares and we have no idea whether they're hostiles or not. Why would you jump out, Sir?" Alex roared, his fists very eager to punch him square in the face.

"You better tell us what the hell is going on down there." Another squadmate stood behind Alex, showing him a copy of his texts that said :

"I'm leading the squad to Warehouse Golf. Prepare for an ambush. Leave no one alive."

"Echo Three-One to Actual, it looks like we've been set up on an ambush. Looks like our mole is willing to talk. We're oscar mike back to the base now."

"Actual to Echo Three-One, Good. We're more than welcome to take him in." the comms replied as they flew back home.

As soon as they touched the landing pad, Alex quickly ran to the building in search for Samantha. He knew she meant goodbye but he wanted one final moment.

"I'm sorry Sir, She's already gone. She just finished her operation about an hour ago. She left with the head of defense." the receptionist replied on his thundering query.

"What operation?!" He asked, slamming the counter.

"It's classified, Sir. But she did leave a note for you to read." she hands over a folded piece of paper to Alex, which he slowly grabbed and pocketed.

"Thanks. I'm Sorry for causing a scene." he sighed and went out of the building, walking to the mini park just beside the parking lot.

***

My Dearest Alex,

In a span of three weeks, you managed to make me feel love once again. You allowed me to realize that even after a horrible loss, I could still open my heart and feel the joy of falling in love. I always told myself that no matter how painful it is, I'll never forget your face, your smile, your eyes and all those memories we shared together. I actually convinced myself that we were a happily married couple back in that safehouse, an illusion I made because my heart felt like it. It was a good feeling, and I want to thank you for it.

I can't help but think about a lot of things, one being that if we were destined to meet and not end up together, it would be better if I don't meet you at all. I'm sorry to say this but I do love you so much and I know I promised, but I think my heart couldn't carry the idea of you existing and not within my grasp. It's utterly heartbreaking.

So, your office offered me a chance, to alter my memories of meeting you, along with the memory that made Nero look for me. You were on a briefing and I wanted to talk to you personally, maybe feel your warmth one last time. I'd want to kiss you too, but I guess the world didn't want that to happen.

So I took the offer, and by the time you read this, I'm already on my way home to resume the life I've lost. I'm sure Maxine misses me right now.

I know you'll agree to this because I feel you always want what's best for me. If our paths would cross again, I hope you'll remember me the way I remembered you before I take this operation, A good memory that's supposed to last forever.

Apologizing in advance if I don't remember you anymore.

Don't you dare forget about me,

- Samantha

***

Alex smiled as he folded the letter and kept it in his wallet. He can't help but contemplate on each word on her letter. He's sure he will read it again and again, perhaps over a bottle of alcohol.

"I loved you too, Samantha." he whispered, wishing that his message would make it to the other Samantha, the Samantha that loved him, the Samantha that he shared his world with.

EPILOGUE

1 MONTH LATER

It took Alex one month to finish his mission report regarding Nero and Samantha. He couldn't help but stop midway everytime he reminisced each day they lived on that warehouse and everything that followed after. But he actually made it to the end and submitted it to his boss.

He spent most of his nights alone in his apartment, drinking lots of alcohol. It heals all wounds after all. Rubbing alcohol for external damage and Drinking alcohol for external damage. It was God's gift to mankind.

He also spent a lot of time writing back on her letter, dozens of crumpled paper scattered on the floor as each attempt he made, looked either too absurd or too awkward. He thought it's healthy to write down what he felt, even after being deeply intoxicated.

After a few more days of sad contemplation, he finally made his decision. He's going to a vacation to clear his head and prepared for his next mission which was bound to be assigned to him anytime soon.

~

The fresh scent of the wet marketplace reminded Alex of the time he was once here. He opted a quick stop in Brazil to acquire something important, he wished it wasn't sold to anyone yet.

He spoke perfect Portuguese as he transacted to the local pawnshop, in an attempt to purchase a pendant that was sold here about two months ago. He carefully eyed each piece of jewelry until he found the one he's looking for.

He pointed it, grabbed his wallet and paid for it, remembering that someday, he'll cross paths with her again. And if not, then it's a keepsake on one of his unforgettable relationship.

His phone rang as soon as he received the receipt for his purchase, quickly pocketing the piece of paper and fished his phone.

"This is Alex speaking." he answered courteously.

"Alex, this is Kate Laswell. We need you."

"Roger that." Alex replied.

CONTINUE TO : Whatever It Takes

[cloud9in]

Human Sacrifice

Summary: The sudden events of the Zeta House Bacchanalia leaves Zoey a victim of humiliation, and Bea has her own input on the event.

 Tags: I’m going to tag the Zoey stans I know: @samanthadalton @jaxsmutsuo @this-person-is-busy @penda-bear @steal-your-moment @tyrils-star @satrinadia (If you want to be removed or added on this list in future writings let me know)

Word Count: 3.6k (Yeah it’s a lot oops)

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST, Mild Language, Depressing thoughts, also some blood.

Pairing: Badgirl! Mc x Zoey

 Author’s Note: I wanted to write a more realistic version of Badgirl! Mc for the events of the Bacchanalia. I hope you hate her by the end of this.

~

Zoey’s POV

 “I will never let you forget that this is who you are.” 

Poppy’s words struck me like I had just been the victim of a tragic car crash.  Completely surrounded by the noise and utter chaos, but isolated in the clutter. 

My legs began to weaken from the embarrassment, there was nothing to hold on to steady myself. There was no one to catch me before I could collapse and sob my worries into the cold, hard concrete floor of the place I would ironically call hell. 

Bea? Where is Bea?  A faint remembrance of her crossed my mind before I could only focus on my rapidly soaring heartbeat. Any second now it would pop right out of my chest and onto the ground, allowing another part of me to be exposed to the selfish monsters, who took no shame in degrading every part of my being. I wanted to shut my eyes. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up, realizing it was all some nightmare. But all I could do was stand there and hold back the dam of tears that threatened to surge out through my eyes. I’ll be damned if I let Poppy see through my act, see through the poorly concealed cracks in my perfect persona and take advantage of it. She has already ripped me apart publicly, and if there is something that I will cling on to as I walk out of this den of vultures: it will be my pride.

The anger rushed through my veins just as quickly as the shame left. I couldn’t feel it, but I knew my nails had dug so deep into the skin of my hand as I tightened my fists. That would definitely leave a few scars, but not as deep as the mental scars that have rose from the dark depths of my mind. There is nothing more that I want in the world than to forget everything. If all of my flaws had to be exposed in this moment, I can only hope the tears that spill any second will submerge me as well.

~

Bea’s POV

 “Zoey doesn’t need me looking after her. Plus, I already told her this is the only reason I came. She’s gonna love this credit card thing.” 

 I snapped a pic of Poppy’s credit card and uploaded it to the T, courtesy of a sweet message to follow along. It was only after a few seconds of allowing myself to wallow in self satisfaction that I felt the need to go save Zoey. With a final smirk of appreciation I dashed out of the room, knowing in the back of my head that the queen of all bitches was going to fall, hard. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, a blinding spotlight revealed the silhouette of Zoey surrounded by the cretins of Belvoire University. A sensation of guilt invaded the pit of my stomach as I looked over at the mugshot of my best friend, displayed for all to see. The confusion overtook me for a split second before I sprinted towards the wires, tearing its hold from the sockets. 

 “Hey, stop!”

 Whose voice was that? Who could stand there and enjoy what was happening to Zoey? 

I felt my cheeks furiously heating up, like I could explode any moment, and all that would be left is a pool of lava. I couldn’t refrain from scowling as I twisted my head in his direction

 “Eat my ass, Liam!”

 Yes that’s right Bea, a big verbal FUCK YOU to him will solve all of your problems, you idiot.

 I growled as the last of the cords are unplugged from the walls and the room goes silent. My eyes immediately fall on Zoey who shares a heartbreaking look with me, like she’s reaching out for me. She needs me. But even as I acknowledged that, I stood in place and watched as tomatoes were slung in the direction of my best friend. There wasn’t a spot on her body that hadn’t become a canvas to the rotting food, in fact the picture painted before me was quite the opposite of her usual appealing image.

  I wanted to get a closer look, I wanted to scan every part of her. I wanted to see the pain in her eyes...maybe I wanted to be the one who took it away. But all of those bottled up feelings meant nothing when Zoey raced through the front doors, her legs dragging the rest of her body, using every last bit of her strength to not break down right then and there. I wanted to run after her. I wanted to comfort her and hold her, and tell her that I’d fix this. But what could I possibly fix? What does she expect me to do? Maybe this will all blow over, I mean this is Poppy, who doesn’t she embarrass? I surely have been a victim, and it’s not like I wanted this to happen. I mentally patted myself on the back for uploading the credit card pictures to the T, this is going to be the sweetest revenge. That bitch will never see it coming. 

And she didn’t.

 I smirked confidently as I watched Poppy’s hastily retreating form, madly whispering into her phone to the great Piers Sinclair. Her father is gonna have a fucking field day with her, I thought. Rolling my eyes, I let out a chuckle. Who knew playing Poppy’s game could be so….fun? Exhilarating? This was only just the beginning of a feud that will end with my reign. A standing that I could not obtain without Zoey.

I knew that I’d have to go after her, and it’s not like I didn’t want to. But what would I say to her? 

 C’mon Bea, you’re going to talk to her. You’re going to ask her what that was all about. You aren’t going to push any boundaries. You’re going to show her that you care...deeply.

 I knew that Zoey had stolen my heart from the minute she grabbed my hands and pulled me into her world. I knew there was no escape, not with her. She was my world and I wanted so badly for her to trust me, to trust that whatever we’re trying to accomplish here at Belvoire, would bring us closer together. I had to go get my girl.

 After all, who else would comfort her if not me? I was the only one who cared enough.

~

Zoey’s POV

 I felt the remains of rotten tomatoes in every crevice of my body. The residue was not enough to distract me from the chills that invaded my spine, and it wasn’t because I was trudging with chunky tomato bits in my underwear on a freezing evening. My whole body felt numb, where was I going? Who do I go to now? I kept walking though, as if I’d encounter a solution to my complete annihilation. Maybe if I didn’t stop, I’d burn out eventually. Maybe I wouldn’t realize it when I hit the ground. Maybe I’ll wake up and be back home, safe and sound.

Sudden footsteps caused the thoughts in my head to jumble. As I turned to face the figure behind me, a rush of heat filled my lungs as I gasped, reaching for her. 

Bea. My Bea.

I wanted to cry out, to tell her how I felt. But in that moment, her arms offered me safety, the kind of warmth that resembles a thick blanket shielding a fragile body on an icy winter morning. I never wanted to let go. 

 “That was…so horrible Bea. No one...was-”, I shook violently against her chest, and she held on tighter. “No one was supposed to know about the...shoplifting thing!”

 Bea held me close as I struggled to breathe. I pulled my head back, careful not to ruin her outfit any more than I had, and looked into her eyes. They were concentrated on every inch of my face, her eyebrows creased with worry as she studied the remains of tomatoes that were dripping slowly from my head. I had the urge to pull away with shame, I….I didn’t want her to see me like this. 

I was Zoey Wade. But I don’t know who I am now. I don’t know what Bea thinks of me now. Everything I worked so hard for meant nothing in the end because of my past. I can’t help but feel like my past defines me, no matter how hard I struggled to lock it all away. 

 “Poppy is so vile for putting you on blast like that. What was that all about anyway?”

 Bea’s gaze was intense as she turned toward the house with a glare. I could feel her arms start to loosen its hold on me, and much to my dismay, I let her do it. She glanced quickly at me before facing the ground, taking a subtle breath and looking back up. 

 “I know it’s no consolation, but at least my plan worked. I got her credit cards! Her credit cards are going to be totally shot after this..”

 Bea’s eyes were creased with delight but I could see the pity radiating off of her dark features. I wanted to ask her what she was talking about. What credit cards? What does that have to do with me standing in fucking tomato waste? 

Bea reached out to caress my shoulders again.

 “That whole ‘Human Sacrifice’ thing is disgusting. I had no idea this is what she would do to you-”

 ...Suddenly the red liquid dripping down my chin didn’t resemble tomato remains to me anymore. It looked a lot more like blood, I felt as if her words psychically hooked onto my skin and tugged at it harshly. My vision began to blur, I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing this time, and I pushed her back roughly. 

My legs started to shake violently as I tried to suppress the anger boiling within me. But that was impossible. 

 “Wait, to me? Bea, did you know she was going to do this to me?”

 This betrayal hurt more than anything that Poppy had said to me. I felt my throat start to close, was I even breathing anymore? Is this real? I stood there trembling in my own sorrow as I waited for Bea to respond. I prayed that this was all a misunderstanding, that she would use that charming voice of hers to melt my pain away. To reassure me that she cared for me and wouldn’t have allowed Poppy to have done what she did. But…I was terribly wrong. 

~

 Bea’s POV

 “Zoey I swear I literally just found out while in Poppy’s room. I came to warn you but I….I didn’t have enough time.”

 I’m not sure why Zoey pushed me out of her arms so suddenly, but all I knew was that this was not my fault. I wanted to lash out at her for even thinking of blaming me for whatever happened tonight. Does she not know how much I care about her? I’m standing here aren’t I? 

I let the feeling bubble down slowly before speaking again, this time looking straight into her big brown orbs, red and swollen with tears. 

 “Zoey...I had gone up there to go through with our plan….I  saw the cards and figured I’d have time to do both. But...that’s just not exactly how things turned out.” 

 I expected her to understand. How could I have possibly known that they’d throw tomatoes at her? I came here to find dirt on Poppy, we both knew that. I completed our objective, we were one step closer to taking down Poppy. 

Why couldn’t she acknowledge that? 

I tried to speak again but I was cut off by the menacing step Zoey took in my direction.

 “Not exactly how things turned out? What the hell Bea?”

 I didn’t think I’d find myself outside in freezing temperatures, being pulled by the jewel of my choker by my best friend. At least not in the way I had hoped for.

I felt Zoey’s hot breath dissolve across my face as she pulled me towards her, eyes seething with fury that you’d probably only see in hell. My lips quivered with surprise for a second before I was sent sprawling back onto my ass, the concrete scraping vigorously against the back of my bare legs. Leave it to me to get in a fight with my fucking underwear on.

I quickly sprang back up, brushing specs of dirt off my already bruised up legs, before scowling at her. 

 “What the hell is wrong with you? I don’t know why you’re so pissed at me. It’s not like I’m the one who put you on blast back there!”

 “But you knew about it, and instead of telling me, you went ahead and did what you thought was more important, didn’t you Bea?”

 “...Zoey we had a plan. Which I managed to do by the way! I thought you’d be happy but it looks like you’re fucking ungrateful!”

 Zoey’s eyes practically jumped out of her sockets as her jaw dropped open. 

I didn’t mean to say it...I didn’t. But a part of me felt that I was absolutely correct, it’s clear that she didn’t feel the same way though.

 “I’M UNGRATEFUL? Bea are you out of your goddamn mind?! Why the fuck would I ever be happy about this situation. It seems like you can’t understand why I feel the way I feel with that thick head of yours.”

 My body jolted forward as I proceeded to grab onto her once more, I wanted to hold her and make her listen to me. She could not leave until I explained. But all Zoey did was back up even farther, holding her arms out to stop me. Tears burst out from her crinkled eyes and she just stands there and lets it flow. There was no more holding back, as mascara started to mix with her tears. My heart broke at what was unfolding before me. 

I couldn’t even embrace her. I felt a hot spark of blood run through the veins in my arms, and my fingers started to tingle. It wasn’t long until they were practically numb. I felt numb. Was it from the cold? Or something else? I couldn’t tell you.....

 “Zoey...you know that I’d never do this on purpose, you know this isn’t me. This… this is all a big misunderstanding. Please listen to me-”

 When I tried to catch her gaze, every last bit of hurt that covered her face had completely disappeared. She looked empty and cold, something I never wanted to see again. Had I caused this?

 “That’s the thing Bea...I don’t know who you are anymore. You’re not the same Bea who I watched walk onto campus and win the hearts of so many people...including mine.”

 I whipped my head up to stare at her like a deer caught in headlights. 

...I won her heart?

 A few beats of silence passed before I spoke again, my voice hoarse from all of the emotions I refused to display. I am stubborn, yes. I wanted to hear it from Zoey, I wanted her to tell me that she adored me. I wanted to know it was real, that it was never one sided. But it seems like the universe was always meant to be against me.

 “Zoey...I-”

 “No Bea. Just stop...I can’t do this right now.” Her shoulders freeze up as she exhales, a puff of breath glistening in the air as she wraps her arms around herself to shield the cold. “You aren’t my Bea...I don’t even think you realize how much you’ve hurt me, and that lets me know where you stand with...us.”

 She was wrong. Dead wrong. I did everything in my power to help her. To help us. It wasn’t fair that we would have this conversation in the middle of a fight, but I wasn’t going to let her end this. She will not walk away from me like this. I couldn’t hold my tongue anymore, any longer and I’d bite it clean off.

 “Zoey are you serious? That is not true! How are you going to admit your feelings and then walk off like it means nothing to me? Do I not deserve to have a say?”

 Zoey stood up straighter, the words that came out of her mouth were bitter. If I stood any closer to her, my skin would burn from the venom she spit.

 “The only thing you deserve to feel is the fact that you ruined every last bit of hope that we would be together. You don’t deserve me Bea...I can’t believe I didn’t realize that from the beginning..” She scoffs and shakes her head at me sadly, wiping the tears off of her face with her painted arms. 

 “What the hell does that mean? Zoey you-”

 “NO BEA! Can’t you see it? It always has to be about YOU. You’re the center of attention right? Ever since you started hanging out with Poppy’s lackeys...you’ve changed. I think you forget about the reason you have such expensive clothes on your back. How people only hang around you because of your status. But I’m not them Bea...I think you need to realize that I was the only person in all of Belvoire who wanted to know the real you.”

 “What are you saying Zoey?”

 “...You’d be nothing without me. Not here at least. This school never took your kind well, hell not even my kind.”

 A sharp laugh left my throat as I processed her words. I’d be nothing without her? This must be some kind of joke! How dare she even admit that?

She’s not wrong Bea. I stepped closer, ignoring the voice in my head and scoffed bitterly as my body trembled with adrenaline.

 “Is that right?”

  I raised my voice higher,  whipping my arms out towards the sky. “You hear that everyone? Me, Bea Hughes, would be nothing without Zoey Wade..” I lowered my hands and jabbed my finger in her direction. “You got a lot of nerve sayin’ that, am I correct? You know...Poppy was right about you being a social climber. That’s why you hung around me right? To use me?”

 “I don’t have to prove my feelings to you-”

 “But isn’t that what you said? I mean you’re right, I am popular. Is that what the problem is here? Is it jealousy that you feel? Keep in mind, before I waltzed on this campus you were a nobody. So the truth is Zoey Wade...you’d be nothing

 I jabbed my finger accusingly at her chest once more

 “without“

 Twice more

 “me..“

 A streak of blazing fire sent me stumbling backwards as her hand connected with my cheek. I clutched the tender area and reeled back to see blood staining my palms from the small cut her ring gave me. I totally deserve that don’t I? 

I turned to see Zoey inching towards me and I braced myself for another hit, but it never came. 

 “...Don’t ever speak to me like that again.“ Zoey shakes her quietly as she stares at her feet. Her voice vibrated loudly yet broke as she spoke, “I thought you were different...but Poppy has changed you. This game has changed you.”

 “Oh please-”

 Zoey snaps her head up to look at me. “Look in the mirror Bea, do you even recognize yourself anymore? I doubt it...you’re so blinded by this hunger for power that you ruin everything in your path. You’re becoming just like...” Her next words felt like a thousand needles were embedded in my palms. 

 “No...you are Poppy”. 

My breath caught in my throat as I stood there in shock.

If you had told me that my ex best friend would be telling me those exact words, I’d laugh in your face and throw a party celebrating my Poppy-free persona. But was she right? Had I tarnished everything I once cherished because of this obsession I have with my enemy? A thousand thoughts were running through my mind and I didn’t shake out of that trance until I realized that Zoey had already started walking away, shedding tomato off of her on the way.

Before I could stop myself, I shouted forcefully

 “Hey! Who do you think you’re walking away from? Zoey we’re not done!”

 Maybe that was the ignorance she was trying to tell me about..

 Zoey turned around one final time, her eyes full of grief for only a second until hardening, “Bea...do yourself a favor and humble yourself. Don’t forget where you came from...because trust me, they will never  let you forget.” 

~

 I let out a shaky breath as I watched Zoey walk away. 

I find it ironic how this tragedy has allowed me to realize how corrupted I’ve become. The picture of her walking away will forever be embedded in my mind, but one thing I can attest to is that Zoey never deserved to be dragged into the mess I made. 

 So I watched her walk out of my life, because maybe that’s exactly what I deserved. Maybe it’s what she deserved too. Only a fool would allow her to leave that night, and I was the biggest fool that ever set foot at Belvoire.

[threeletterslife]

Nothing a Lil Green Can’t Fix

→ summary: Imagine having a best friend so crazy you have to have 911 on speed dial. Turns out that you are that friend. And it's up to Park Jimin to keep you from facing disaster.

→ pairing/rating: jimin x reader | PG-15

→ genre: i love bittersweet stories 🥺 so this is basically fluff all the way but angst lurking in the background | coming of age!au

→ warnings: profanity, mentions of death, divorce, heartbreak (like pretty fucking sad shit), implied sex

→ wordcount: 19.2k

→ a/n: i had so much fun writing this! a HUGE thank you to all of my friends & beta readers who helped me not make a big embarrassment out of myself LOL. a round of applause and special thanks to @aaugustlee​​, @fangirlfeelz​, @bangtansgalaxie​, @byuncaa​, @yunjikim021​ for putting up with my unedited writing! (: ALSO a huge HUGE thank you to @justastar​ for this BEAUTIFUL mood board 🤩

♫: Who by Lauv (feat. BTS) | Say Something by Pentatonix | Inner Child by BTS

cr.

When Jimin was younger, he knew superheroes existed. After all, his own mother was one of them. She cooked, washed the clothes, taught Jimin the alphabet, ran the grocery errands, worked from home, read Jimin a bedtime story and tucked him into bed—which was her daily schedule. She was strong, loving and caring. The things every mother should be. She handled problems better than she handled her emotions, that woman.

Which was probably why she cheated on Jimin's father. Jimin was only five when he heard the shouts and screams coming from downstairs. He remembers how frightened he had been, gripping his pillow and trying to drown the sound of yelling with his blankets. Only shortly after that night, his mother had packed her bags and left. Jimin never saw her again.

But life wasn't too bad after that. You had shown up, after all.

Even though Jimin's once perfect family was ruined, he didn't mind too much. When he's with you, he forgets about all of his other problems.

You'd first waddled up to him in his kindergarten class with a green marker in hand. "Can you please color me green?" you'd politely asked.

If Jimin's mother taught him one thing before she walked out of his life, she'd taught him manners. So when you, a complete stranger, had been so polite about a request that didn't look like it'd do much harm, Jimin complied.

He helped you color yourself green. Halfway through the process, he'd said: "Why are we coloring you green?"

You'd laughed out loud, grinning as you announced emphatically, "BECAUSE GREEN IS THE BESTEST COLOR EVER!"

You hate it when Jimin teases you of your first encounter with him. Mainly because you had yelled out 'bestest' at the top of your lungs that day and 'bestest' is most definitely not a word. (You're kind of a grammar freak.) Not to mention, both of you had gotten into huge trouble for coloring you green that day. Jimin had cried when the teacher had scolded the two of you, but you had shrugged, patted Jimin on the back and boldly asked the teacher, "Would you like to be colored green as well?"

You were banished to the time out chair and your star got moved down two slots into the angry orange section instead of the happy green. Jimin had felt sorry for you, but you didn't seem like you cared that much. Your skin was your favorite color. How could you not be happy?

Later that same day, you'd declared Jimin your best friend. And then you had taught him your secret language so no imbecile could eavesdrop on your private conversations. Jimin thought you were the coolest human being alive.

Jimin still thinks you're the coolest human being alive.

He's thirteen and waiting for you outside of your house so both of you can walk to school together. Walking to school side by side has been a tradition ever since you were little, too. It was also a tradition that you were always a few minutes late.

You suddenly bust out of the door with half a bagel in your mouth and your hair a frenzied mess. "Bye Granny!" you yell as the door slams shut. "Let's go!" you exclaim to Jimin in your secret language as he nods in agreement. The two of you begin to walk to school.

"What are you today?" he asks as he looks over at your outfit of the day. You're wearing black cargo pants, a black mesh top with a black tank top underneath, big, black boots and metal chains around your neck. You like to keep your fashion choices interesting by having a different style every day. You've already tried prim and proper, goth, princess and tomboy. But this... Well, this was something definitely new.

"I'm a bad girl." You grin, chomping down on the rest of your breakfast and brushing your hands together to get rid of the crumbs.

Jimin frowns. "You're gonna get dress coded," he says but upon your disappointed look, he sighs. "You're gonna get dress coded," he says in the secret language.

"Am not."

"Are too."

You roll your eyes, flipping your messy hair over your shoulder. "They can dress code me. Fine. I'll go to school in my underwear the next day, then."

Jimin laughs, shaking his head. "They'll send you to juvie."

You snort, throwing your head back in a fit of laughter. "Oh, Jimin, I—" You suddenly gasp, hand flying into your pocket to fish out your favorite green permanent marker. Its name is Gilbert.

"Grammar error?" Jimin asks.

"Yeah," you sigh, shaking your head in disdain. "Over there."

There's a sign in front of a local coffee shop that painstakingly reads: free cakes everyday after four!

"They forgot the space between 'everyday,' " you huff, so disappointed that you forget to speak in the secret language. "Wait right here."

Jimin stops walking, watching you quickly stroll over to the sign and circling the word, 'everyday' with Gilbert and marking in all caps right next to it: NEEDS SPACE.

You make your way over to Jimin again, sighing. "When will people learn?"

"Not everyone is good at grammar, Y/N," Jimin reminds you. "I think you're being a bit of a grammar Nazi."

You scoff. "So what if I am a grammar Nazi? Do you think it's acceptable to parade around town using the wrong 'everyday?' " You throw your hands in the air for dramatic emphasis.

"I mean, everybody makes mistakes," Jimin tries.

You huff, crossing your arms. "Yeah, like your outfit," you grumble. "You forgot to hook a strap of your overalls over your shoulder."

"Hey!" Jimin says. "It's fashion!"

"It's ridiculous," you counter. "It's like you're trying to show off your man chest."

"Well, you're trying to show off your girl chest."

You gasp, gazing down at your black mesh top before realizing Jimin's actually right—this stupid top does expose a lot of you to the public's scrutiny. "Don't look there, idiot!" you say. "Perve."

"What am I supposed to do? Not look at it?"

"Yes!" you say very indignantly. "A true gentleman would not look!"

"But it's right in front of my face!"

"You know what, Jimin? You can walk to school alone!" You start dashing away from Jimin, your heavy boots thumping on the concrete.

"Wait! Y/N!"

Though you might've won the fight at that moment, Jimin becomes the real winner when you come out of your house the next day wearing a turtleneck that covers your whole upper half and modest boot cut jeans with white sneakers.

"What are you today?" Jimin teases in the secret language.

"Shut up," you mutter. "Let's go."

Jimin happily obliges, skipping his way to school as you grumble, following right behind him.

Sometimes Jimin wonders what he would do without you. You were the angelic figure that had swept him off his feet when he needed a good distraction from reality. You had stepped in when his mother had stepped out. And he loves you no matter how weird you are.

"Jimin?" you ask, your head propped against his chest as his arm wraps around you. Both of you are staring up at the blue sky with sunglasses on.

"Hmm?"

"I think I can speak to the weather," you confess in the secret language, grinning wildly as you watch the clouds shift in the blue sky. "It was probably my fourteenth birthday gift from the universe, you know?"

Jimin loves how you never grew up. You were the same Y/N he knew in kindergarten with a big imagination and overflowing creativity—only smarter, taller and more beautiful.

"You can speak to the weather?" Jimin asks.

You nod. "I'm making it sunny right now."

"Really?"

You snuggle into his chest, clinging to his warmth as you laugh. "I control it with my emotions. I'm so happy right now that the sun can't help but shine upon us."

Jimin's heartbeat quickens as you clutch onto his t-shirt, but he tries to play it off. "And why are you so happy right now?"

"It's summertime!" you exclaim, suddenly jumping up and out of Jimin's arms. "We'll be in high school this year!! And you know how much I love hanging out with my best friend."

Jimin smiles, though he wonders if you'll ever love him the same way he loves you.

"You know," you sigh as you trudge down the steps of your apartment building in a large green raincoat and white boots with a glazed donut in your hand. "I'm feeling pretty horrible today. I think it's going to rain."

Jimin nods as he looks up at the sky. Sure enough, the rain clouds are settling in, painting the sky a dark gray. "That's not a good way to start off the first day of high school."

"It really isn't," you sigh.

"Is it your granny?" Jimin whispers in the secret language as both of you begin to walk to your new school.

You flinch. "She's just... she's not feeling too well, you know?"

"I'm sorry," Jimin says. "Do you know what it is?"

"She won't fucking tell me," you groan, handing your donut to Jimin. "I don't want it. Do you?"

It's Jimin's favorite food: a glazed donut, so he takes it and munches on it. Something tells him that you saved it just for him. "Thanks," he says. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No..." You shake your head, your lips that had been set in a stern lip suddenly curving up to reveal a bright smile. "Sorry, I'm totally killing the mood. We should be excited! High school, right?? Oh my god, do you think we're all going to dance in the gym like we're all in it together??"

"That stuff only happens in the movies," Jimin chuckles as he finishes the last of your donut. But upon seeing your disappointed face, he offers: "No, we'll definitely dance around in the gym singing songs from High School Musical."

"That's more like it!" you exclaim.

Crazily enough, by the time the two of you reach the new school, the rain clouds have disappeared from the sky. Jimin looks over at you, who had taken off your raincoat to reveal a rather summery green t-shirt dress. Maybe you really can control the weather with your emotions.

Jimin admires how you don't give two flying fucks about social standards. You're brave enough to be yourself, to stray from society and not conform to stupid high school stereotypes. You're everything that he isn't. And in sophomore year in high school, you're wilder than ever before. Frankly, he thinks you're what everyone wants to be but is too afraid to be.

"Did you study for the AP chem test?" Jimin asks as he fidgets with pages and pages of notes in his hands.

You snort, tugging your favorite green jacket around yourself. "No. Why would I? It's just a test."

"But it's an important test," Jimin insists, eyes glazing over as he half listens to you and half crams last-minutely. "Last test to raise your grade before the final."

"My time's important too," you laugh. "I don't regret those six hours I spent reading yesterday. You know, I woke up so late today that I had to wear my pajamas to school."

Jimin glances down at your sweatpants and looks up at your tousled hair.

"Yeah," you say, "only had time to put on the nearest jacket. But it's kind of hot, isn't it?"

You're right. Ever since you helped nurse your granny back into top-notch health, the weather was perfect—always sunny and just slightly breezy. It matches your mood.

You shrug off your green jacket, folding it away. When Jimin notices your shirt underneath, he gasps out loud.

"Y/N!"

"What?"

"You're wearing those pajamas!" he exclaims in the secret language, frantically. "Do you wanna borrow my t-shirt or something?"

"What? No!" you cock your head. "What's so bad about my t-shirt right now?"

"Y/N, you're literally wearing a shirt with the periodic table on it. We're taking a chem test!"

"Oh, you're so funny, Jimin," you say, shaking your head. "It's just a t-shirt. No one will care."

Fast forward ten minutes later when your AP chem teacher calls you up before you sit down with your test and tells you that you need to put a jacket over your shirt.

"But Mr. Levitt!" you protest. "I don't want to be in a stuffy jacket when I'm taking a test!"

Mr. Levitt sighs, but after an intense one-minute staring contest in which you claim victory, he agrees to turn on the air conditioning. Silently, everyone thanks you (it's a hot day, after all) as you return to your seat with your jacket covering your shirt and your eyes sparkling with their usual mischief. Jimin thinks you might've elaborately planned this whole scheme out. Mr. Levitt is infamous for being a total tightwad on the AC, so maybe you thought you had to do something about it instead of studying for the test.

Naturally, you proceeded to completely bomb the chemistry exam.

"Ugh," Jimin groans the next day as you step out of your home with an apple in your mouth. "The scores are out. I got a 92%," he huffs. "That's barely gonna raise my grade."

You laugh out loud, tossing Jimin another apple that he gratefully catches. "I got a 43%. Deal with it."

"You're serious."

"I'm always serious," you giggle, twirling around in your rather nice-looking outfit. Jimin notices you took extra time to curl your hair and apply a sheer lipgloss on your lips. "Besides, you know, that test had so many grammatical errors that I couldn't possibly focus on the problems!" You scoff, shaking your head disdainfully as your eyes gloss over to remember the horror you saw the day before. "I had to whip out Gilbert and fix all the errors, you know? I didn't even get to look at half the questions on the test. But I'm pretty sure I got everything else right, though," you confidently announce. "Totally worth it. Mr. Levitt needs to learn a thing or two about dangling modifiers."

"But Y/N, you can't fail a class!" Jimin protests. He doesn't have the guts to tell you that you earned your 43% after a 13% curve—that in reality, you'd really gotten a 30%.

"I'm not failing," you giggle, "yet."

"What am I gonna do with you?"

You shrug, biting at your healthy breakfast and chewing slowly. "Anyways, do you like my outfit?" you ask in your secret language, totally changing the subject.

Jimin warily eyes your pretty skirt and button-down top. His face heats up just a little bit, but he forces himself to look away. "Why'd you dress up so much? You're going to fall down wearing those heels."

You roll your eyes so hard Jimin can see the whites of your eyes. "Google Earth always takes pictures, my friend," you sing. "If people see me walking down this street on that app, I want to look fabulous."

Jimin's learned a long time ago from experience to not believe everything you say. (One time when the two of you were six years old, you told Jimin if he waited in his garage at night without falling asleep, he'd see his father's old, battered Hyundai turn into a chivalrous robot—this was after you had watched Transformers with him at home—and Jimin had stupidly believed you. What followed was him staying up for three nights in a row, waiting for the car to morph in Optimus Prime. He was almost going to stay up for a fourth night until you had to put an end to his madness by telling him you were joking.) And there were many, many more times your large imagination had convinced Jimin something that wasn't real, was. But now, he knows when to take your words with a grain of salt.

Even so, the next day, he dresses up extra nicely. Just in case Google Earth is taking photos.

You pass sophomore year with mediocre grades, but by now, Jimin knows you don't really care much about your transcript.

Junior year is rumored to be the hardest of all in high school, a rumor that turns out to be quite true. Well, except for you.

Jimin's reading for his huge physics exam on his bed while you're propped up against the headboard, legs tangled absentmindedly with his. The two of you had been in that position for hours. Normally, you can't sit in one spot for more than forty-five minutes, but you must be concentrating on something because you'd been way too still and quiet for way too long.

"Hey, Y/N?" Jimin calls in the secret language. "You good?"

"Hmm," you hum. "Mhm."

When Jimin looks up, he sees you sewing. You must've gotten that sewing kit splayed before you from your granny. It's really endearing how much you love her and how much you're willing to do for her. She's the only family you've got left around here, and she's the one that has taken care of you since you were very young. Your granny is a lot like you, too. Jimin's heard from you that she likes watching extreme sports and hopes to become a three-time gold Olympic medalist snowboarder by the time she's dead (though she hasn't won a single snowboarding contest in her life). She loves fashion and enjoys taking you out to shop. She likes to preach that grades do not define intelligence. (It seems as though you've had that soaked in your brain for a very long time.) Her husband, Gilbert, was a grammar freak like her, but he passed away before you were born. You named your permanent green marker after him.

You don't like to talk about it, but your granny hasn't been in great health in the past few years. Jimin knows how much it's putting a strain on you, yet you insist that everything's completely fine before suggesting to embark on another wild journey.

"Are you sewing something on your favorite shorts?" Jimin asks, setting down his physics book.

You nod, tongue poking out of your lips as you concentrate. "It's a QR code."

"Oh, really?" Jimin becomes interested as he scoots closer to you so that your arms are touching.

"Yeah, so when I wear these scandalously short shorts and guys are checking out my ass, they'll see this QR code instead and dare to scan it, you know?" you smile proudly at yourself, setting down your sewing project as you lean again Jimin's shoulder. "Wanna know what comes up when you scan it?" you ask in the secret language.

"Yeah."

"Information about colorectal cancer."

"What?"

"Colorectal cancer. Colon cancer, Jimin." He notices the way your lips tremble slightly as the words spill out of your mouth. You're struggling to keep a straight face.

"Oh, Y/N... Your granny—"

"Yes," you cry out, tears starting to well up in your eyes. "Stage four, Jimin. Fucking stage four. She has about a year left."

"Y/N..."

You move in to hug Jimin, crying into his shirt as he wraps his arms around your waist, letting you cry in silence.

You don't like to cry. Jimin's only seen you cry one other time in his twelve years of friendship with you—when your granny had her first cancer scare a couple years back. To see you breaking down in front of him like this hurts him more than words can describe. You're usually so resilient; you wear a fierce smile on your face even when times are tough. But you'd have to take off your happy mask at some point.

He lets you sob into his chest, warm hands tracing circles on your back in hopes of soothing you. He never knows the right thing to say, unlike you, so he stays quiet.

It takes a few minutes but your sobs dwindle to soft sniffles, then to complete silence. Jimin holds you in his arms without complaint, savoring your warmth, hoping that just embracing you can help.

You pull away, wiping off the residue of your tears on your face with the back of your sleeve. "I'm so sorry, Jimin," you whisper, your hands tracing the wet patches of your tears on Jimin's shirt. "I think... I need to go home."

He doesn't stop you when you pack up your sewing kit and leave without another word. And he hates himself for being so cowardly.

But the next day, you come out of your house with a bright smile on your face. You're wearing the shorts with the QR code sewn on the back, proudly flaunting them to Jimin. He does everything so his eyes don't linger around your ass; in the end, he just looks away entirely.

You laugh when you see him blush, linking your arms together as you march to school. The sun's shining brightly today, but the streets are wet with the hard rain that had poured last night.

All too soon, senior year rolls by with summer just around the corner. You and Jimin make use of your lax time, no longer needing to worry about grades or academic productivity.

"You know, everyone has one deep fear," you confess, snuggling up against Jimin on the sofa in your room. "You know what mine is, right?"

Jimin nods. "Losing your granny."

"Good. Well, I think I know what yours is."

"Really?" Jimin asks, letting you rest your head on his chest as he plays with your hair.

"You're afraid of being left alone," you whisper. "You're especially afraid someone you love will leave you."

"Hmm..." Jimin hums. "Like my mother?"

"Yeah. But me too."

"You?" Jimin asks, bewildered, suddenly sitting up and moving away from you to stare into your eyes. "You're leaving?"

"Hey, relax," you giggle, shaking your head. "I'm not leaving forever. I'm just... I didn't tell you but... Granny passed away a few days ago. You know when it was raining really hard that night? Yeah, well that was because I was crying nonstop. She'd always wanted to be buried in Hawaii because that's where she met Gilbert. I'll be in Hawaii for a week—"

"Why don't you tell me anything until the last minute?" Jimin sighs. "You could've told me your granny passed away the day it happened. Why are you telling me now?" He struggles to keep his voice from trembling too hard. I didn't even get to say goodbye to her...

You shake your head, biting your lip to keep a straight face. "Because I knew I'd break down if I told you the day it happened."

"Y/N, it's okay to cry..."

"No, Jimin. It's not. I'm supposed to comfort you. I'm supposed to be the strong one that doesn't bat an eyelash when trauma comes her way. I'm supposed to be resilient, Jimin," you sigh. "I refuse to cry."

Jimin doesn't know what to say.

"I know," you say, leaning forward to grasp Jimin's warm hands. "I'm so sorry. I told you we'd go to the senior prom together. I'm so, so sorry, Jimin." You're smiling to reassure him, but your façade isn't fooling anyone—thunder clouds boom outside of your house, then the rain begins to fall. "I'm sorry, Jimin," you say again. "I want to make it up to you somehow."

Jimin had completely forgotten about going to prom until you had brought it up. You'd made those plans during freshman year, and both of you had been excited about it for all of high school. Now, it looks like those plans will be ruined. But Jimin knows how much you love your granny. She means way more than a silly prom night to you. He'll have to figure something out for himself. "You don't have to make anything up to me, Y/N," Jimin says. "I'm not going to prom, then, I guess."

"But you've been waiting for it since we were in ninth grade," you protest, shaking your head. "You were going to wear a green suit to match my green dress, remember?" you say in your secret language, a small smile playing on your lips. "I can get someone to go with you."

"It's fine, Y/N," Jimin says, shaking his head. "My dad wants me to start thinking about my future, anyway. I don't think he'll appreciate me going out without knowing what I want to study in college."

You nod. "Oh, okay, then."

"You're not going to college, are you?" Jimin whispers.

"I can't, Jimin," you shrug, a fake smile plastered on your lips. "I got a job at a restaurant as a waitress. I think I'll manage financially. You know, I think you should go into engineering or some pristine shit. You're too good at math and science."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jimin says as you cuddle into his chest again. He's known you for thirteen years now and he's never seen you this let down in his life. You're struggling to hide the gargantuan amount of pain you're feeling, but the weather is reflecting your emotions too well. Jimin never knows how to comfort you—partly because you're rarely upset, but also because he's scared you might leave him if he says the wrong words.

You're right.

Jimin's terrified of losing someone he loves. He's scared that you'll leave him one day.

Your senior year in high school is the last time Jimin sees you sad. It takes you a few months to adjust to a life without your granny, but after that, you jumped right back up and out of your misery. The years rolled on through delightful days and unforgettable nights. Both of you are 24 now and it seems like nothing has changed.

Jimin waits for you to come out of your house in your work uniform, and you do just a few minutes after he arrives.

"Hey!" you beam at him. "Hope you didn't sleep too late studying or whatnot."

Jimin laughs as the two of you begin to walk to your workplace. "I actually pulled an all-nighter studying for the mid-term," he shrugs, pointing at the dark circles underneath his eyes.

"Aww, Jimin," you coo. "I'm kind of glad I never went to college. Much less try for a master's degree. After your classes, wanna meet me during my night shift?"

"Sure," Jimin agrees. His eyes glance at your petite figure, admiring the bright look on your face and your sparkling eyes before realizing what you were wearing. "Oh, Y/N!"

"What?" you giggle. "Do you like it?"

"The manager isn't going to be happy about that, Y/N," Jimin sighs.

Your work uniform was black and red—a modest black dress with a cinched-in waist and short sleeves and a red waist apron. It was a uniform that Jimin thought made you look gorgeous, but he knew how much you hated it. You'd complained several times that the outfit was too dark and gloomy and that it made you look like a sexy vampire. And you do not like sexy vampires. (Jimin thinks that's because you always rooted for Jacob the "sexy werewolf" in the hit book series, The Twilight Saga.) But what could you do about it? The black and red uniform matched the colors of the logo of the restaurant you worked in: The Black Dress.

Yet it seems like you do not give a fuck.

You're now wearing a bright green skirt with a green fanny pack around your hips, and the white pirate blouse you bought on a shopping spree sale last Halloween. Your red waist apron is tied around your neck so it flows behind you like a cape. And to top it all off, there are green clips in your hair.

"I think I look outstanding!" you chirp, twirling around. "I'm still wearing my apron so I think I'll be fine."

"Y/N... You work at The Black Dress... You can't not be wearing a black dress!" Jimin cries. "You're going to get fired!"

"Nah, I'm not," you snort. "I think the new manager has a soft spot for me. He'll really like my rather innovative work uniform!"

"What if I come over during your night shift to find out that you're no longer working there?" Jimin protests. "How are you so sure he'll be fine with you not following the dress code?"

"Oh, Jimin," you giggle, shaking your head. "Live a little! Break a few fucking rules, will you? The manager and I are good friends. I'll be fine. We're still on for tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Jimin scoffs, "if you still have your job by then."

"I will!" you protest. "Do you wanna bet?"

"What? No!"

Jimin knows when you threaten to make a bet, you're always 100% sure you're going to win. He had lost a lot of money before he’d figured that out.

"See? I'll be fine, Jimin," you say, stopping your walking when you come in front of the restaurant. "Good luck on that mid-term, all right?" You give him one of your best grins, hitting his back encouragingly as you begin to walk backward towards the entrance of the restaurant. "You're going to ace it!" you yell in the secret language.

Jimin smiles brightly. He knows that your words of encouragement will do wonders to his score like always. "Thanks!" he calls. "Bye!"

You wave your arms frantically, nearly tripping on a rock as you do so (walking backwards is not your thing). With final grins exchanged, you head into the restaurant. Jimin watches as you leave, unable to hide the fierce blush of his cheeks. It's been almost two decades and he's failed to tell you that he loves you.

Meanwhile, you sashay into the restaurant, twirling around in your modified work uniform. "Hello, everyone!" you announce in your best singing voice.

"Good morning, Y/N," your manager offers, smiling at you as he walks up to greet you.

He's a handsome man, you must admit. In his early thirties, intelligent, good with his words and rather caring.

"It's just me for now," he chuckles. "I guess the others will come later."

"Wow, I can't believe I'm the first one here, Namjoon," you laugh. "I'm literally always the last. Isn't this the first?"

Your manager laughs as well. "This is a special day then, isn't it?"

"Every day is a special day. Is it not?"

"That's very true," Namjoon agrees. "Is that why you decided to ditch your work uniform, Y/N?" he teases. "I must say the modified version looks quite nice. Someone has a penchant for the color green doesn't she?"

"You caught me!" you exclaim, raising your hands up in mock guilt. "My best friend thought I'd get fired or something. He's such a plain Jane," you giggle. "But I love him though. He's coming over later during my night shift. Is that okay?"

"Of course that's okay," Namjoon smiles. "I thought he was your boyfriend. Doesn't he walk you here every day?"

You laugh so hard you snort. "Boyfriend? Boyfriend?! God, no! We've been friends for nearly two decades, Namjoon! I think one time we even showered together. We're literally best friends."

"Good," Namjoon grins. "Because I've been wanting to ask you out for a while."

Your eyes widen. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. When are you free?" he asks.

"Hmm..." you think. "Well, I'm supposed to have a movie night with Jimin on Friday. On Saturday, Jimin and I are supposed to watch the water fountain show we bought tickets for like seven months ago... On Sunday I'm supposed to sleep over at his place so we can wake up on Monday at the same place, you know, so it'll be easier for Jimin to walk me here... I think I'm okay Sunday. As long as I get to Jimin's home by 8!"

Namjoon laughs at your long explanation, looking at you fondly. "I'll take you out on a cafe date. Then we can watch a movie and have an early dinner. How does that sound?"

"I like it!" you giggle. "I haven't been on a date in... damn, I've never been on a date."

"Really?" Namjoon asks, slightly bewildered. "No one's taken you out on a date? You?"

"Yeah!" you blush. "Why? Am I date-worthy?"

"You're very date-worthy, Y/N," Namjoon laughs. "Maybe everyone thought you were already taken. You know, you spend a lot of time with your best friend."

You snort. "Jimin and I hang out all the time but I never once thought of anything as a date. He probably thinks of me like I'm his sister!"

"Good, good," Namjoon grins. "So he won't be mad that I'll have to steal you away for a day."

You giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Jimin never gets mad. The last time he got slightly irritated with me was in senior year of high school."

"Great!" Namjoon says. "I'll see you at the cafe next door at 2?"

"Sure!" you exclaim.

"Everything's planned, then," Namjoon smiles. "Well, we have fifteen minutes left until the restaurant opens. Why don't you get dressed in your actual uniform? We have extras in the back, okay? Maybe I'll see you around today! I'm going to go check up on our chefs."

"Okay!" you nod. "Bye!" When he's out of view, you have to duck your head to hide your blushing red cheeks. When was the last time a man was interested in you? Never. You're not going to mess up on a perfect chance to date Kim Namjoon who's tall, handsome, intelligent and diligent. You don't think you can wait to meet Jimin during your night shift to tell him such good news. You might just accidentally text him right now! But you can't. Jimin's taking a test and you would be evil to distract him like that.

You've awaited your fairytale romance for 24 fucking years. Maybe you've finally found the Gilbert to your granny. Something about Kim Namjoon feels right.

You squeal giddily as you flee to the back counter of the restaurant, finding the extra black dress there as Namjoon said. You skip to the bathroom to get changed, folding up your modified uniform and stashing it somewhere in the back counter. Your radiance is obvious during your day shift—you get three times the amount of tips than usual. Namjoon even notices and compliments you on your diligence!

Usually, when your day shift is over by 4 p.m., you like to sit in the corner of the restaurant with a fresh magazine in hand and use Gilbert to correct all the embarrassing grammatical errors until it's time for your night shift. But today, Namjoon sits down across from you (because his work for today was over) and he asks what you're doing.

You spend the next two hours until your night shift explaining to Namjoon the intricacies of correct grammar. He seems to enjoy every minute of it. When you have to go back to work, Namjoon promises to see you tomorrow, which was Friday and wishes you the best on your night shift. You let out a dreamy sigh when he leaves.

How did you not notice such a great man like Namjoon was right in front of your face? Granted, it's only been a few weeks since he started working here, but still.

You're usually just a little bit tired (crazy, right? for such an energetic person like you) by the time you start your second shift, but you feel more energized than ever. By the time Jimin comes into the restaurant, you're serving the last customers and cleaning up the tables and pushing in the chairs.

"Hey!" you cry, rushing in to hug your friend. "How was the mid-term?"

"It was great!" Jimin beams. "You've been in a really good mood today, haven't you? The sun was out the whole day. Huh, and you're not fired, I see. Someone made you put on the uniform?"

"Yeah, Namjoon," you say dreamily. When Jimin makes a blank face, you clarify, "my manager."

"Oh? He wasn't mad?"

"No! He wasn't!" you giggle. "He asked me out on a date, Jimin! And then he told me to change into my uniform, but that's beside the point! We're supposed to meet on Sunday at the cafe next door at 2! This is my first date! You have to help me with what to wear!"

Jimin plasters on a giant grin for you, though his insides crumble. "That's great, Y/N! Maybe I can come over later and help you choose what to wear. Are you thinking of making it official? It sounds like you really like him..."

"I don't know yet," you hum. "But I know he's a great guy! You know how well I read people, right? He really likes Gilbert too! God, I think he's already gonna be my prince!"

Jimin nods. "Wow," he mumbles. "Do you know him very well?"

"Well, I know that his name is Kim Namjoon. And he's the day-time manager for The Black Dress," you say, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to think. "He has blonde hair... uh, he's tall and he likes to wear all black!"

"You don't know him very well, do you?" Jimin accuses, crossing his arms over his chest. "Y/N, how do you like him so much if you barely know him? Is it because he expressed interest in you? You can't just go liking people back just because they like you... You need to make judgments for yourself."

You pout, shaking your head. "It's not like that," you say. "And I made my judgment already! I like Kim Namjoon, Jimin. Besides, I will get to know him. Now, I'm gonna go close up the restaurant so sit tight, all right?"

Jimin nods, grumbling under his breath about how quickly you were moving on to like someone you barely gave a second look at. He does admit that he's a bit jealous... Who was this Kim Namjoon who just decided to waltz into your life and steal you away from him? Who was he to ask you out just based on physical attraction? Jimin can't believe you were falling for a guy you basically just met. But he does admit that you've always wanted some sort of fairytale romance. Is it too late for him to confess now?

"Why are you thinking so hard?" you giggle, making Jimin jump away from you from the suddenness. "I closed up the restaurant. Shall we go home?" You hold out your hand for Jimin to take, which he does after just a bit of hesitance.

"I was not thinking very hard," Jimin says.

"Oh, really?" you snort, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. "You were thinking so hard, a vein popped out in your forehead! A penny for your thoughts?"

When you hold out an actual penny for him to take, Jimin laughs, shaking his head. You huff, putting the penny back in your pocket. "It was nothing, Y/N."

"Wow, I didn't know nothing made you think so hard you looked angry," you tease. "You can tell me anything, you know."

"Yeah, of course," Jimin sighs, squeezing your hand and struggling to hide his actual feelings.

Damn. If he could control the weather with his emotions, it would be raining right now.

Jimin knew you would never be one to put your dates over your friends. That fact was confirmed for him when even though you got Namjoon's phone number, you never texted him when you were hanging out with Jimin—which was practically all the time.

Your Friday movie night was a blast, as usual. The two of you cuddled up on the couch and completely lost it over a hysterical comedy. And the Saturday hangout was even better with the majestic water fountain show. When the two of you separated that night, you ended up FaceTiming in each of your houses. Like Jimin had promised, he helped you pick out a cute but modest outfit for tomorrow—something that enhanced your best features (which Jimin thought is everything) and something that would make it very obvious that green is your color. You went to bed smiling because you were excited about your date with Namjoon tomorrow. Jimin went to bed smiling because you were the last person he saw before going to bed.

On Sunday morning, Jimin woke up, texted you to have fun on your date and began to study for his advanced thermodynamics class, which was a whole fucking pain in the ass. He skipped lunch, got a snack around early evening and waited for you to come over while he watched some kitten Youtube videos.

You were supposed to be back from your date by 8 p.m. It is promptly 8:07 and Jimin begins to get a bit nervous. Should he text? Call? 8:07 is such an ambiguous time. If he calls now, he'll sound clingy, like he's trying to interrupt your date with Namjoon. Well, Jimin wouldn't mind doing that, but he doesn't want to hurt your feelings and burst your idealistic bubble. Perhaps he should wait.

You're always late to everything, anyways. If Jimin wasn't in your life, you would've been late to every single day of school from kindergarten to high school. Hell, if he hadn't banged on your door for you to come out on graduation day, you might've never graduated high school. Maybe Gilbert fell out of your flimsy dress pocket and you're looking for it? (It's happened before so it could surely happen again.)

Alas, the door of Jimin's small apartment swings open and you practically skip through, giggling and twirling around. "Sorry I'm late!" you say, rushing over to where Jimin was slouched on the couch and cuddling up next to him.

You smell faintly masculine. Jimin struggles not to make an unflattering face—that was no doubt Namjoon's cologne. He wonders what base Namjoon took you to tonight. Did you kiss him? Did you make out with him? Have... sex?

He shudders thinking about it.

No. That couldn't have happened. They were in public places the whole time. Unless...

He glances over at you who's stripping off your jewelry, socks and jacket. You're too busy tying up your hair into a messy bun to notice Jimin staring at your lips. Had Namjoon kissed you goodbye?

Jimin shames himself for having these thoughts. He should be happy for you. Besides, you weren't even that late. It's only 8:10.

"You wouldn't believe why I was like, ten minutes late," you giggle, stretching out your legs and sitting in an unflattering position that hikes your dress up to your mid-thigh. Jimin struggles not to look down.

"Really?" he asks. "What happened?"

You snort. "Okay, so—wait do you have my makeup remover wipes here? And can I borrow some sweats? I totally forgot to bring a change of clothes. Sorry!" you say.

Jimin nods. "Yeah, the wipes are in my bedroom where you last left them and um, you can find some of my t-shirts in the first drawer of the cabinet next to my bed."

"Okay, thanks, Jimin!" you giggle, quickly bouncing up from your spot. When you see that Jimin's still glued to his seat, you laugh. "I can't tell you the story when you're that far away from me! Get up! I'll tell you the story while I change."

Jimin flushes at the thought. "Y-Yeah, okay," he stutters. You tug him into his own bedroom, snatching the makeup wipes from the nightstand and beginning to wipe off your light makeup. Jimin sits down on his bed, cross-legged, attentively waiting for you to start your story.

"Okay, anyways, Joon—"

"Joon?"

"Yeah, it's like my little nickname for Namjoon, isn't it adorable? Where was I? Right!" you mutter to yourself as you furiously scrub off the remnants of your mascara. "We were coming out of the movie theater, right? I found out Gilbert wasn't in my pocket! And I was just about to turn around to tell Joon my misfortune but he was already facing me and yelling, 'I FORGOT MY PHONE!' "

You take a moment to skillfully aim the wipe into Jimin's trash bin, squealing when it goes in completely clean. Jimin claps politely for you.

"Thank you," you bow dramatically. "Oh yeah, where was I?" You begin to make your way towards Jimin's bedroom cabinet, pulling out the first drawer and inspecting your choices of nightwear and sticking your hand in the neatly folded clothes to rummage through and pick your poison. "So, naturally, Joon and I went back into the theater and—ooh, Jimin you have a few condoms in here! Are you getting it on these days?"

"Y/N!" Jimin shrieks, scrambling over and snatching the condom you were teasingly holding out before chucking it into his closet and slamming the door shut. "T-That's private."

"Oh, really?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"Come on, Y/N. I'm a virgin, you know that."

You raise your eyebrows. "It looks like you're tired of being one though," you tease.

Jimin can't look you in the eyes. His face burns with humiliation. He can't possibly explain why he had bought those condoms. Back when he was an undergraduate, he had been desperate to get over his feelings for you—so desperate, in fact, that he had purchased his first batch of contraceptives to have sex with other women and completely forget about you. But he never had the guts to try. How could he? When he was so hopefully in love with you that he couldn't imagine himself being sexually active with someone else. Er, not that he sees himself being sexually active with you. But—

I need to stop thinking about this.

"Aw, Jiminie," you coo. "It's okay to be a virgin," you say in your secret language as you sit down on the bed with one of Jimin's favorite black t-shirts in hand. Jimin believes you must've thought he was pissed off at you for teasing him about being inexperienced. "I'm a virgin too, right?" you say. "I'm waiting for my prince!"

Jimin breathes a sigh of relief. So you hadn't had sex with Namjoon tonight. For some reason, he feels much better after hearing that. "You know what, Y/N?" he smiles. "I'm waiting for my princess."

You smile so bright it lights up the room. "Good," you say. "Let's get married on the same day, then. A double wedding in a castle far, far away!" you place a dramatic hand over your forehead. "Now! Where was I for the hundredth time? Oh, yeah! Joon and I went back to the theater," you say, starting to unzip your dress.

Jimin's eyes turn wide and he quickly turns his back towards you, making you laugh.

"I'm not putting on a strip show," you giggle. "You don't have to be so embarrassed about it!"

"I-I, uh, I'll just give you some privacy. Tell me when you're done," Jimin manages to choke out.

"So gentlemanly. How do you not have a girlfriend yet?" you chuckle to yourself, sliding the sleeves of the dress of your shoulders and dragging the fabric off of your body. "Okay, okay, okay. I need to focus. Anyways, Joon and I went back into the movie theater and the first thing we did was to go back into the room where we watched the movie—great film, by the way—and we literally scrounged around everywhere for my poor Gilbert and Joon's phone! But to no avail! It was as if both of them disappeared!"

You toss your dress on the floor, unclip your bra and tug Jimin's shirt on in smooth motions.

"Jimin, you can look now," you say.

He turns around, ears slightly pink and eyes averted. Quickly, Jimin sits down on his bed, across from you. "You can continue your story," he offers.

You grin. "So, Joon was panicking at this point because he lost his phone. And I was about to burst into tears because I lost Gilbert, you know?"

Jimin nods in response.

"Yeah, so I figured I'd have to be late coming to your apartment because I can't just leave without Gilbert! When I reached into my purse to get my phone to tell you of my misfortune, guess what happened. Guess! Guess!"

Jimin pouts. "Can't you just tell me?"

You roll your eyes. "I was building the story up just so you could literally guess what happened with no problem," you huff. "Fine, then. I reached into my purse to get my phone and I pulled out Namjoon's instead! Turns out, before the movie, Joon was holding all the snacks and he dropped his phone. So, you know, I picked it up and couldn't give it back to him so I just put it in my purse!"

Jimin smiles. "And you forgot you put it in your purse?"

"Well, yeah!" you giggle. "I was so worried about Gilbert!"

"Did you find him?" Jimin asks.

You snort. "Is that even a question, Jimin? I wouldn't be this happy right now if I hadn't. You'd never guess where Gilbert was, Jimin."

"So there's no point in me trying, right?" he responds, teasingly. But when he sees your death glare, he sighs. "Fine. Was Gilbert in Namjoon's purse?"

"HA!" you exclaim. "Good one! But no, it was in my right pocket."

"Oh, Y/N," Jimin says, leaning back on his bed. "You only checked your left pocket before you declared Gilbert missing, huh?"

"Yessir!" you laugh. "Joon and I got a good laugh out of it. He told me I'm really silly! And, get this, he said I'm a natural!"

"Really?" Jimin says. "A natural at what?"

"Dating!" you squeal. "He told me I'm naturally cuddly and adorable and kissable and—god, my heart exploded in my chest!!!"

Kissable???

"But I told him I don't kiss on first dates—not that I've never been on another one... You know? Like you need to give them something to long for!" you laugh, spreading out on Jimin's bed while looking up at his ceiling. "I read that from a romance novel somewhere. And it worked! He asked me out on our second date during our first date! Am I amazing or what?"

"Oh, Y/N," Jimin sighs.

"Oh, Jimin," you mock right back. "Anyways, shall we go to bed early? My princess beauty sleep is waiting!" you sing, making your way to Jimin's bathroom. "I'm gonna wash up, okay?"

"All right," Jimin answers, getting up to turn off the lights of his room. He crawls back into his bed, waiting for you to join him. A few minutes later, you do, tucking yourself in on the left side of the bed and snuggling Jimin's blankets as you sigh out.

No matter how many times he's slept beside you, Jimin feels like his heart will beat out of his chest every time. It feels wrong, to sleep in the same bed as adults when you're in nothing but a platonic relationship with him. Yet something about it feels so right... And you've been doing it since you were kids and upholding tradition is pretty important to both of you.

Jimin double-checks to make sure he isn't pulling the blanket covers too hard. He doesn't want you left with anything to stay warm through the night.

"Goodnight, Jimin," you whisper.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispers back.

And he drifts off to sleep. Only in his dreams can his longing to be with you come true.

Jimin is always your priority. You have a lot of friends, but when it comes to who you're willing to spend the most time with, it's Jimin. And it's always been like that—since that one fateful day in kindergarten to now. Er, kind of.

These days, your priorities may have shifted just a tiny bit.

It's been like that ever since Namjoon took you out on that stupid fifth date, which was the date that marked the official start of your romantic relationship with him. Jimin had sulked in his bed that whole day when you'd first texted him the news. But later, he forced himself to get up and have a cup of coffee with you in the cafe next to your workplace. He feigned a smile for you and told you that Namjoon was one lucky man.

And he was.

Now that Namjoon is officially your boyfriend, Jimin had to share you with him. It's unfair. Jimin's known you for nearly two decades, but Kim Namjoon decided to waltz into your life one day and win you over in less than a month. What did Namjoon have that Jimin didn't??

But no matter how bitter your relationship with Namjoon made Jimin feel, he hid it away from you. Besides, you are practically glowing these days. Whatever Namjoon tells you makes you absolutely radiant. And Namjoon must be a good man because you come over to Jimin's apartment after every date happy and bubbly like it was your first. So he's definitely treating you right.

You don't get to spend as much time with Jimin anymore, too. Sometimes, Jimin asks if you're available for lunch or dinner but half the time you've already made reservations with your boyfriend. Yet you always make sure you see Jimin at least five days a week (two days less than what was before, but it's a small price Jimin's willing to pay for your heightened happiness).

Since your birthday is coming up, Jimin's been putting the finishing touches on your present—the one he's been preparing since the day after your last birthday. This year, you've already made him a short little flipbook (that you drew yourself) about the first time the two of you had first met for Jimin's birthday. The gift was rather nostalgic and it had almost made him cry. Jimin hopes the present he makes for you this year will make you cry. In a good way, of course.

You and Jimin share every single one of your birthdays. It's been an ongoing tradition since Jimin turned six before you did. This year is no different. You had to tell a very bummed Namjoon that you already made dinner reservations with your best friend so he'd had to give you your present when you ate lunch with him earlier that day.

Jimin doesn't really think Namjoon likes him that much. He always eyes Jimin with some sort of suspect as if Jimin was going to steal you away from him. Hmph. The feeling is reciprocal.

When you came to your favorite restaurant wearing your favorite green dress, Jimin had already ordered the food and was patiently waiting with his hand-made present.

"Hey!" you cry as you slide into the seat.

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" Jimin smiles. "You look great!"

"Right?" you giggle, tossing your perfectly curled hair over your shoulder. "I felt like for my 25th birthday, I'd have to wear something cute. I'm halfway to the fucking 50 years old, Jimin. I'm aging too quickly," you huff, crossing your arms over your shoulder. "Did you order already?"

"O-Oh, yeah," Jimin says. "Why? Did you want something different?"

"No, I just wanted to check if the menus had any grammatical errors," you laugh, shrugging. "Oh well, when we get dessert menus, I'll check out RM."

"RM?"

"Oh! It's part of the gift Joon gave me," you exclaim, pulling out a—

"Red marker?" Jimin scrunches his eyebrows. "For your birthday?"

You nod, placing the marker on your desk and rolling it towards Jimin so he can pick it up and examine it. Jimin does, scrutinizing the marker that was most definitely not as great as Gilbert.

"Well, Joon always saw that I was correcting grammatical errors with Gilbert and he thought that something red would be more emphatic, you know?" you explain, taking out Gilbert from your left pocket. "Of course I love Gilbert more, but I thought I'd give RM a try. Besides, Joon said red serves as the better color for correcting. He said the color itself brings alert to the problem and that green is too passive. I guess I can see that."

Jimin frowns. "But you like green because it's 'passive,' " Jimin sighs as he makes air quotes with his hands. "And it doesn't make the corrections seem as rude and aggressive."

"I know, Jimin," you smile. "I'll try RM out once and keep it on a shelf somewhere. Gilbert's not going anywhere. You know that. Besides, Joon was really insistent that I tried it out, you know? He was so thoughtful too! I think it's a great gift! And I think it's endearing that he named it RM for me. Did you know RM used to be his nickname when he was back in college and in an acapella group? The man can sing! What can he not do?" you gush.

"He named the marker after himself?" Jimin snorts. Typical.

"Well, yeah, I guess he did!" you laugh. "It's like I'm always carrying around a mini him!"

Bleh.

"Yeah," Jimin agrees without much heart. "Oh, wanna see what I got you for your birthday?" he asks, hoping to steer the conversation away from your boyfriend.

"OH MY GOD, YES!" you exclaim. "I've been waiting for this moment since my last birthday."

"Good," Jimin grins as he whips out a box with pretty, green wrapping. "Here."

You take it from him, shaking the box wildly and with wide, happy eyes. "It's kinda heavy!" you comment, beginning to rip the wrapping off. You skillfully force the box open with the butt of your fork. When you finally see your present, you gasp. "Oh, Jimin, you fucking didn't."

"I fucking did," Jimin smiles proudly. "Open it."

You carefully take a photo book out of the box, your eyes glued on the beautiful front cover. "God. I'm tearing up just looking at the front," you laugh. "Where'd you even get these photos?"

He shrugs, smiling. "Here and there, you know?"

Jimin had made sure the cover of the photo book would be littered with childhood photos he and you had taken when you were younger. The rest of the book is filled with little memories the two of you shared growing up with captions and comments underneath. There are a total of 392 photos in the book. And Jimin had spent seven months accumulating them—mostly from his father's old camera and Jimin's old Nokia phone he dug out from his garage. You'd always wanted a photo book, so Jimin thought it was time to gift you with one.

You're excitedly flipping through the pages, spending more time to stare at the more sentimental photos. Even when the food arrives, you can't put the book away. You're so distracted with Jimin's present that you don't even try to correct the grammar errors on the dessert menus. So Jimin grabs Gilbert and makes corrections himself. He puts the correct accents on crème brûlée and corrects a rather obvious spelling error. Then, he proceeds to order two strawberry cheesecakes. Surprisingly, even when the dessert arrives, you don't put the book down.

It's rare when something entrances you so much that you don't speak for long periods of time. You haven't spoken a single word to Jimin ever since you'd started flipping through the photo book, and Jimin finds that he doesn't mind at all. He loves watching how your face relaxes and contorts again as the memories of your childhood flood through you. The last photo in the book is the one your granny took of you and Jimin fighting over the last glazed donut when the two of you were in first grade. Spoiler alert: you'd won. But you had also felt bad after watching Jimin sulk so you'd broken the donut in half and handed a piece to your best friend.

When you finally catch sight of the last photo, you gasp, putting a hand over your lips.

"Granny," you whisper. "She took this photo. I remember..."

You're practically clouded with nostalgia and Jimin swears he sees tears welling up in your eyes. But you won't cry over something as simple as this. It's the fact that you loved his gift so much that you almost cried that counts.

"Gosh... Jimin," you breathe, fanning your eyes. "I'm not crying, by the way. Something's in my eye, I don't know," you mumble.

Jimin grins.

"I don't even know what to say, Jimin. I love it. I'll cherish it forever. Thank you. God, it's perfect," you say. "Wow. You're leaving me speechless, Jimin. And it's very hard to shut me up. You're something special."

Jimin practically beams. All the time and effort he'd spent on your birthday gift had really paid off. He loves seeing you so happy that you can't even describe what you're feeling in words.

You carefully shut the photo book, setting it off to the side before staring right into Jimin's eyes. "I would totally fucking say I love you right now but I don't think Joon would appreciate it."

"What?" Jimin breathes as his heart flutters in his chest. "But he's not here right now."

"He doesn't like it when I do 'romantic' things with you," you sigh as you lean back. "We had a long discussion about it a few days ago."

"Romantic things?" Jimin makes a face. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"Oh, it's not a big deal!" you exclaim, waving your hands. "He just thinks, well, he thinks that some of the stuff that I do with you... um, is not really, uh, platonic."

Ah. Jimin sees where you're going with this. And now it's obvious why Joon always looks at him so suspiciously—Namjoon feels threatened by Jimin.

"How so?" Jimin asks but he already knows the answer.

"Like um, he doesn't like it when I sleep over at your place, you know?" you say, fidgeting in your seat. "And he really put his foot down when I told him we sometimes share a bed. He said I shouldn't really do that with you anymore."

Jimin understands where Namjoon is coming from. But at the same time, he feels as if Namjoon had violated his rights. His rights to be with you.

"I can't hold hands with you either," you say, looking down at your uneaten strawberry cheesecake. "I'm so sorry, Jimin. I know we've been doing it for so long and I swear, I didn't know it was strictly a relationship thing. But apparently it is, and it made Joon uncomfortable that we were holding hands when I'm really dating him and just—" you stop yourself from rambling, sighing as you take a sip of your ice water. "And I really love him, Jimin," you whisper. "I don't want to lose him."

"You love him already?" Jimin says with a slight tremor in his voice that you completely look over. "It's only been a month, Y/N."

"Love has nothing to do with time," you smile wistfully. "He's my prince, Jimin. If I let him go, he'll find someone else."

Jimin's silent, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't hurt your feelings.

You take his silence as a bad sign. "Jimin, I didn't want to break all of this to you on a celebration night but I felt like you deserved to know earlier," you say in your secret language. "I'm sorry. It was all part of our tradition too."

"It's fine," Jimin sighs. But it's really not. Yet Jimin hides his pain by shoving a forkful of cake into his mouth. He chews slowly, swallows. "What Joon's suggesting is pretty justified. Don't worry about it."

The rest of your birthday dinner is somewhat awkward. Of course, you try to save the mood by cracking a few jokes here and there, but Jimin finds it hard to laugh. It's the worst birthday he's ever celebrated with you.

You and Joon have only started dating for a month, but so much as changed already. Jimin doesn't even want to think of the drastic changes that might follow as your relationship with your 'prince' deepens and blossoms into something even more serious.

When Jimin arrives at your home to walk you to work on a Monday morning, he does a double-take because he finds you already waiting outside, shivering from the chilly air in nothing but your plain work uniform. Never in the twenty years that he's known you have you ever been on your doorstep before him.

"Y/N?" Jimin asks, bewildered. "What happened?"

"Hey!" you exclaim, waving at your best friend enthusiastically. "Nothing happened. I'm just trying to get into the habit of being early. It's not a good habit to be late all the time."

"Your face is red, Y/N!" Jimin says, shrugging his thick coat off and handing it to you and you take it gratefully. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Eh, just a few minutes," you say, sniffling your runny nose and grinning. "I'm as red as RM! Besides, the sun's shining. You know what that means? I'm fine."

Jimin shakes his head. "You should've waited inside. I'm okay with waiting. I've done it for twenty years so I wouldn't mind doing it for more."

"Joon told me I should get into the habit of being early," you giggle. "I've been late to every single one of our dates so far, you know?"

"Well, you've been late to every single one of our hangouts but I never said anything," Jimin scoffs.

"It's different with you," you say, smiling.

How? Jimin so desperately wants to ask. But he's afraid of your answer.

You wrap Jimin's black coat tighter around yourself as you skip down the porch steps. "C'mon! I wanna get to work super early!"

It takes only a week later for Jimin to realize you like going to work early because your boyfriend's already there, waiting for you.

You've been with Namjoon for about three months now, and the effects are starting to impact Jimin's life rather largely. For starters, you're spending way less time with him than before. The daily routines you had established with him for years are broken as you mold your lifestyle in the way that Namjoon wants you to. Jimin hates change more than anything. You should know that.

And you do. You apologize profusely—any chance you get—about the little changes in his lifestyle because of you; Jimin never blames you, though.

When you missed his grad school graduation because Namjoon bought you expensive vacation tickets to an acclaimed resort in Hawaii, Jimin didn't blame you.

It was Namjoon who had bought the tickets and it was Namjoon who told you the trip wasn't refundable. It was Namjoon who wanted to take you away from Jimin for a week. You promised you would FaceTime him.

And you're the best promise-keeper in the world.

"How is it there?" Jimin asks in the secret language as he lounges on his couch. "Is the weather nice?"

"It's beautiful!" you exclaim, moving out of the screen to show Jimin the sparkling blue-green oceans behind you. "We went snorkeling a few hours ago and we just had lunch so we're waiting to digest our food before we dive in again! I wish you were here," you pout. "I'm sorry I missed your graduation, by the way. Was your father there?"

"Yeah, he was. Don't worry about that," Jimin says. "I'm glad you're having fun."

"Aw, thanks!" you giggle. "Joon really outdid himself with all of this. Oh, how's your job status, by the way?"

"I got the job," Jimin smiles. "I didn't go through with those extra few years of school for nothing."

"HA!" you snort. "If I actually went to college, I would've been kicked out for literally failing every class. Remember when I got a 32% on that physics test? God, I hated Mr. Chung. Look at that! After all of these years, I still remember his goddamn name!"

Jimin shakes from laughter. "Of course I remember! Mr. Chung told me to tutor you or something."

"And then you told Mr. Chung that—"

"Baby?" Namjoon calls off-screen, interrupting you mid-sentence.

You turn around to look at him. "Yeah, babe? Oh, wait, sorry. I mean, yeah, babe?"

Jimin can hear Namjoon sighing. "Baby, can you please, refrain from using that secret language of yours in public?" he whispers. "I'm so sorry, but it sounds a bit like a chicken is being repeatedly run over by a car and people are starting to stare."

Jimin's about to give Namjoon a piece of his mind when you cut in before him.

"Aw, I'm sorry Joon," you giggle. "I made the language when I was really young. Explains a lot, doesn't it? Sorry, Jimin," you tell the camera. "I guess we'll have to stop our encrypted conversation."

"And baby?" Namjoon calls. "We're on vacation! Technology should be off when we have such beautiful scenery around us."

Jimin grits his teeth.

"Right!" you laugh. "Silly me. Sorry, Jimin," you say again, not even looking into the camera this time. "I have to go! I'll talk to you later, okay? Bye!"

Before Jimin can even answer, you end the call. Jimin's left staring right back at his own frustrated face. He chucks his phone across his couch and covers his face with his hands.

At first, Jimin didn't like Namjoon because he was jealous. But now, it's come to more than that. Namjoon's been trying to change the little quirks and habits that made you, you; he's trying to mold you into the same society you rebelled against for all of your life. He's trying to take you away from Jimin. He's trying to strip you of everything you were before you met him.

But what can Jimin do about it?

You're too head over heels in love with this Kim Namjoon. That man is the self-proclaimed prince to your princess. Jimin can't help but think he's the ogre. A handsome, successful ogre who strikes slowly, so slowly that the damage cannot be detected until it's too late.

If Jimin tries to warn you about Namjoon and his dubious intentions, you might not believe him and hate Jimin for life. If Jimin says nothing, he might not be able to recognize you in a few years' time at the rate the changes are happening now.

Jimin doesn't know what to do. He hates confrontations—that had always been your job, not his. So he does what he always does: nothing.

Being with you every day is a mystery. You have something new up your sleeve every single day without fail. Whether it be a new fashion style or a new gadget you made, you're always flaunting something that others wouldn't dare flaunt. And that's what made you so special.

But the crazy color schemes that had once been in your closet have been reduced to dark, muted colors. The Halloween costumes you kept every year to wear as everyday clothes were sitting on a rack in some Goodwill store. You dressed... plainly now.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with that. It's just not you. It is Namjoon though. Besides from Jimin, Namjoon is the plainest man he knows. And so far, switching out your wardrobe was definitely not your idea, though you seem to believe it is. That Kim Namjoon. He's planting these stupid ideas in your head and you're absorbing them like a sponge, too kind and docile and a bit too naive to disagree with your boyfriend.

Jimin's heard the way you talk about him. Your eyes gloss over with complete adoration and you giggle at everything Namjoon does. You're madly in love with him, and Jimin can't do anything about it except watch.

But no matter how many of your habits and physical lifestyle Namjoon can change, he can't touch your personality. You're the same girl Jimin's known and loved for years and years of his life. And he's not going to let you go anytime soon.

"JIMIN!!!" you yell, almost knocking your friend over by hugging him the moment you open your apartment door to see his face. "You're two minutes late!" you pout as you drag him over in front of your television. "I already picked a movie!"

Jimin can't deny Friday movie nights with you is the only thing he looks forward to these days. Though you don't cuddle with him on the couch anymore, you like to lean against his shoulder. And that's enough contact for Jimin to be satisfied.

"Really?" Jimin grins. "What movie?"

"Interstellar!" you say, collapsing on your couch as you aggressively pat the empty seat next to you. "Hurry up! Hurry up! I'm excited!"

"Y/N? Are you sure?" Jimin asks as he sits down next to you with a confused look on his face. Usually, when you choose a movie, you always end up reverting back to your classic favorite Disney princess films. "I know you don't really like sci-fi..."

"Yeah, but I told Namjoon I already watched that movie, but I haven't. So now I need to watch it," you explain quickly. "You like sci-fi, though, so you can explain all the things I don't get! Which would be half of the movie."

There Namjoon goes again. Making you watch movies that literally lull you to sleep.

"Okay," Jimin sighs. He doesn't have the guts to tell you that he's watched this movie hundreds of times.

By the time the roll credits are playing on the screen, you're completely knocked out. Well, you've been knocked out since the first twenty minutes of the film. Jimin's been watching you sleep for the rest of the two hours and thirty minutes of the film. (Not in a creepy way—an endearing way.) He had to stop himself multiple times from reaching out and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and away from your face.

God. Jimin needs a drink of water. Is it just him or is the room getting hotter?

He stands up slowly and quietly, making sure he wouldn't disturb your peaceful beauty sleep. Jimin's known your home since he was five; he could walk blindfolded to the kitchen if someone made him. He finds refuge near your water dispenser, fanning his face and taking his own cup from the cupboard. Your granny had bought that blue cup for him years ago, gifting you with a separate green cup. It's the only cup you use at home.

Jimin fills his cup with water, downing all of it in one large gulp. The water helps him cool off just a tad bit. He moves to place his used cup in the sink, his eyes habitually glancing over at your trash can.

You never remember to put a plastic bag inside it, which makes the gross remnants of your waste stick to your trash can. And Jimin can definitely say that that stench is horrendous. Jimin sighs as he finds an empty Walmart plastic bag rolling around your kitchen. He approaches the trash can, holding his breath just in case. But when he checks inside, there is nothing in it except for—

"GILBERT?" Jimin gasps loudly.

"JIMIN?!" you shriek. There's a resounding thud in the living room and a small "oof," from you as you lay sprawled on the floor.

"Y/N!" Jimin yells.

You dash over to your kitchen, rubbing your eyes and trying to adjust to the bright kitchen lights. "Jimin?" you say, your brows furrowed as you approach your friend who's pointing aggressively at your trash can with wide, angry eyes. "Oh," you say softly when you realize what he's talking about. "Right..."

"Why is Gilbert in the trash, Y/N?" Jimin asks, running his fingers through his hair as he grips the kitchen counter for stability. "Was it Namjoon? Did he do this?"

"No!" you shout. "I did it, Jimin. I tossed Gilbert in the trash."

"Why?" Jimin whispers, taking a step away from you. "That marker's everything to you."

"I know, Jimin, I know," you groan. "It dried out. It's ages old, you know?"

"But you take such good care of it, Y/N." Jimin shakes his head. "And you're just tossing it away like that because it dried out? What about your grandfather? What about your granny?"

"Jimin, it's fine. I'm fine," you say, shrugging. "It's time I let go, you know?

"Let go of what, Y/N? The only family you've known?" Jimin sighs. "What happened to saving the world by correcting their grammatical errors?"

"Its," you reply.

"What?" Jimin says exasperatedly.

"Saving the world by correcting its grammatical errors," you say, a slow smile emerging on your face as Jimin shakes his head to hide his own grin beginning to manifest on his face. "I'm sorry, Jimin. You're right. I don't know what I was thinking," you say. "Well, I wasn't. Joon and I had our first fight today."

"Oh..."

"No, don't you 'oh' me, Park Jimin!" you laugh. "It's really not that bad! He told me I had a premature taste in films and an immature outlook on life, but I mean, he's not wrong, you know? I tried to stay awake watching Interstellar. I really did. But Joon's right. I can't like anything that's advanced. And I realized that it's a crime to vandalize, too..."

"So you threw Gilbert away because of that?"

"Well, yeah," you say. "It's a crime, Jimin. I didn't even know until Joon told me! He's so wise!"

"Oh, god," Jimin groans, burying his face in his hands.

"Ah, c'mon, Jiminie," you say, grabbing his wrists and trying to pry his hands away from his face. "He's helping me move on, you know? He's helping me become a better person!"

A better person.

The words sting. If your definition of a 'better person' is losing the spark, the color of your life, then fine. You were already a better person than before. But all Jimin can see is the monochrome you. The you without color. Which doesn't really seem like you at all.

But it hasn't rained in a while, so maybe you were truly fine with losing your color. Either that or you had also lost the ability to control the weather with your emotions. Jimin wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

Jimin is a patient man. Not only has he waited twenty years for you to love him back (which you never did), but also he never outwardly expressed his frustrations with your change in lifestyle to you.

Besides, if Namjoon's making you that happy, then there really was no problem, right?

Wrong.

You call Jimin on Sunday with the worst news ever imaginable.

"I'm moving!" you squeal and Jimin can hear you jumping up and down on your bed from the other line. "Joon asked me to move in with him!!"

You've only dated him for four months.

"H-He did?" Jimin stutters, cursing himself for sounding so pathetically off-guard. "What about your home? Your granny's home?"

You've lived in that house ever since you were born until now.

"I can't live in that house, forever, Jimin. I want to move on!" you say. "Plus, I think Joon and I are ready to take our relationship to the next level!"

"That's ridiculous," Jimin mutters, raking his fingers through his hair in pure frustration.

"Sorry?" you say.

Shit. Jimin had forgotten you were still on the phone.

"Nevermind," he sighs.

"Jiminie," you say with that characteristic lilt in your voice. "You can tell me what you're thinking you know! I haven't been your ride or die best friend for twenty years to not know what's going on with you."

"I know," Jimin says. But he can't tell you that he absolutely despises your boyfriend. It'll break your heart. And Jimin doesn't want to be the reason for your unhappiness. "Congratulations, Y/N," he says. "I hope you like your new place, then."

"I love it, Jimin!" you squeal. "Joon remodeled his bedroom recently and damn it's just so beautiful! I'll finally be living in a castle with my prince!"

"That's great, Y/N!"

"I know, right?" you exclaim in such a voice that Jimin can tell you're absolutely beaming on the other line. "You have to come over when the move's finished! You know what? Come over this Friday for movie night! I wanna give you a tour of my new home!"

"Namjoon won't mind?" Jimin asks.

"He's going out with friends that night," you giggle. "We'll have the whole place to ourselves! Did you know Joon has a flat-screen TV?? It's humongous!"

The offer sounds very tempting. Watching a movie on a high-end television with you on a Friday night? Hell yes. It almost makes up for the fact that you're moving out of the house you and Jimin had practically grown up in.

God, Jimin can't wait for Friday to come.

It's Jimin's turn to choose the movie when Friday night finally rolls around. Since he knows you nearly idolize Rapunzel, he suggests the two of you rewatch Tangled for probably the millionth time. But before the movie had to come the house tour, of course.

Namjoon's home is rather spacious for a guy who was single for a long time. You parade around the home as you've already lived in it your whole life. Jimin silently tags along. He has to admit that Namjoon's home is, indeed, better than your granny's old house. But he nearly bursts with jealousy when you show him around the big bedroom that you supposedly share with Namjoon.

"Isn't it great?!" you say, twirling around the commodious room with a bright grin on your face. "Joon even bought new sheets for us! I wanted green and he wanted white, so we went with light gray," you giggle. "Compromise of the century, huh?"

"Still looks white to me," Jimin mutters under his breath. But you're so hyped about showing your best friend around your boyfriend's home that you don't hear him.

"C'mon, let's go watch Tangled, now!" you say, dragging Jimin back to Namjoon's expensive leather couch and switching on the flat-screen TV.

Both of you collapse on the couch, leaning against each other by habit as the movie begins to play on the screen. Jimin's watched the film with you so many times that he's basically memorized the whole script.

You like to silently mouth Rapunzel's lines and Jimin mouths Eugene Fitzherbert's lines. You also like to sing when Rapunzel does, and you've been trying to convince Jimin for years to sing with you. But Jimin does not sing. And that was that.

No matter how many times you've watched Tangled, you cry when Eugene Fitzherbert 'dies.' Before you were dating Namjoon, you'd always bury yourself in Jimin's arms, waiting until the climax of the scene is over. Nowadays, you limit yourself to placing your head on Jimin's shoulder, burying your face in Namjoon's couch pillows. Jimin doesn't mind. He likes that you take comfort in his presence.

Just as the tension of the scene is about to lift, the front door of the house opens and Namjoon walks in. But you're so engrossed in the movie that you barely notice, instead, digging your face harder into the pillow.

Jimin's head jerks towards Namjoon and their eyes meet. Namjoon doesn't look very happy. For just a split second, Jimin fears his life. He takes the time to scoot a bit away from you so Namjoon doesn't come for his neck. You whine when Jimin pulls away, trying to tug him back as your eyes are glued to the TV.

"Y/N..." Jimin whispers. "Your boyfriend's here."

"Oh, what?!" you say, breaking from the trance that the movie had put on you and finally turning your head to see a frowning Namjoon. "Joon! You came back so early!"

"Why is he here?" Namjoon asks, ignoring your enthusiasm. He doesn't look at you when he speaks, his eyes trained on Jimin, instead. Jimin gulps.

"It's Friday movie night!" you laugh. "We're watching Tangled! Oh, Jimin can you pause the movie? Damn, we'll have to rewind it. Wanna watch with us?"

"No, Jimin," Namjoon says through gritted teeth. "Turn the TV off. Y/N, this is not your home. It is ours. You're to tell me if you are to have guests over." He glares at Jimin again. "Then we can talk if they are welcome here or not."

"I-I, uh, I have to go," Jimin stutters, desperately, standing up from the couch.

"But we didn't even finish the movie!" you protest, grabbing Jimin's wrist and looking at him with puppy dog eyes. "We always finish the movie."

"Y/N, we need to talk. Let him go," Namjoon says, crossing his arms.

"I—" you sigh, letting go of Jimin's wrist. "Okay..."

It hurts to watch you look down at your feet like Namjoon was scolding you. You look so small, powerless up against him that just for one, small second, Jimin contemplates staying. Maybe give Kim Namjoon a piece of his mind.

But who is he kidding? Jimin could never compare himself to a man like Namjoon.

"I'll uh, talk to you later," Jimin quickly says. He doesn't look back when he leaves and you watch him go with a certain emptiness in your heart.

The moment Jimin's out the door, he runs. He runs from your boyfriend, your obvious pain... He runs away from himself. But he should know. No one can outrun cowardliness.

You're really the only significant figure in his life; the only person he's loved for twenty consecutive years. Yet he can't do anything to save you from the obvious monster that is your boyfriend. Jimin hates himself for that.

He crash-lands on his bed, burying himself in his pillows and drowning in self-hatred. He lays still for what seems like hours in the darkness, the silence. He tries to numb his thoughts. But when his vision is nothing but a black screen, he cannot do anything but think.

He thinks of the fight you might be having with Namjoon. He thinks of how sad you must be inside. He wonders if you genuinely like being with Namjoon. He wonders if you're genuinely happy. But most of all, he wants to know if you miss your old self.

Jimin groans when he hears his phone ring next to him. He doesn't want to get up nor move, but something inside tells him that it's important. That it might be you.

And it is.

Hurriedly, Jimin answers the call. "Y/N?"

"H-Hey, J-Jimin," you wheeze.

Jimin freezes. You're crying. And everyone knows you don't cry.

"Y/N?!" Jimin panics, sitting up. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Of course I'm okay!" you yell, making Jimin wince at the harshness of your voice in his ear. "Joon and I just fought! I'm fine!" you sniffle. "You said to talk to you later so I'm calling you!" you try to laugh but it comes out like a broken sob. "I'm not crying, I swear!"

Bullshit.

This is the third time Jimin's heard you cry. The first two times had been because of your granny. This time? It was because of that bastard, Namjoon.

"Did he do anything to you?" Jimin says, his hands slightly shaking as he waits for an answer.

"No! Joon would never," you say. "We just talked. You don't have to worry, Jimin."

"He looked angry when I left..."

"He was..." you sigh. "Listen, Jimin... this is going to sound bad, but um... Joon... He, well, he doesn't want you coming over anymore."

"What?!" Jimin blurts out. "At all?"

"It's okay! It's okay!" you say, though you sound far from it. "I can always come over to your house!" You sigh deeply. "It's just that I don't think Joon's very comfortable around you."

No, he's just not comfortable when I'm around you.

"This is ridiculous," Jimin mutters.

"Sorry, Jimin, what did you say?" you ask. "I didn't hear."

Jimin closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He tries to stay calm, tries to keep from bursting out and yelling, but he can't help himself. It had to be said. "It's fucking ridiculous!" he shouts suddenly, standing up and starting to pace back and forth in his room with a crazed look on his face. "He's being fucking ridiculous!" he yells.

"Him? You mean Joon?" you say.

"Yeah!" Jimin throws up his hand in frustration. "He's acting like he fucking owns you!" Jimin snaps.

God. He's done it now. There's no going back.

"He's not, though!" you protest. "Don't get mad, Jimin. He's only voicing his rightful opinion. There's nothing wrong with that."

"He's trying to separate us!" Jimin yells. "Don't you get it?"

"No!" you say, starting to raise your voice. "Joon wouldn't do that!"

"Like he wouldn't fucking convince you to throw away Gilbert? Like he wouldn't convince you to clean out your closet and replace it with clothes that he finds sensible? Like he wouldn't fucking convince you to keep your distance from me?? He wouldn't fucking do any of these, huh?" Jimin shouts, his voice interlaced with anger and sorrow. His throat feels raw in his neck, but he continues on with the thoughts he's held in for months. "You're blind, Y/N! He's ruining your fucking life can't you see? Where's the Y/N who used to talk to me for hours before going to sleep in our secret language? When's the last time you've spoken that, huh? And when's the last time you pretended to control the weather with your emotions? Where's the real Y/N? What happened to her?"

"Joon doesn't like her!" you yell at the top of your lungs. Your voice rings in Jimin's ear.

"Why do you want Joon to like you? What are you trying to prove to him?" Jimin cries, his voice quivering.

"I'm following my path to love!" you shout. "It's something you'd never understand. You don't even know what that is! I've never, ever seen you pine for anyone in the fucking twenty years I've known you! You can't be talking about love if you've never fucking felt it!"

Jimin collapses on his bed, his head numb and hands cold.

You take his silence as defeat. "I fucking thought so," you say. "Joon says you're too dependent on me. You need to go out and make another friend other than me. The world changes, Jimin. People come and go. Stop being just so—just so fucking stuck in the past. Goodbye."

You don't wait for a response, ending the call right away.

Jimin's phone slips from his ear, falling face down on his bed. He's frozen into shock. If only you knew why he had never chased after love for twenty fucking years. He didn't need to. Because his love was right in front of his face the whole time.

Aside from the occasional bickering as kids, you and Jimin had never fought. This is the first time both of you had exchanged nasty words with each other.

You had used to call Jimin a peaceful soul because of his extreme hate for confrontations, unnecessary drama and fighting. Not once in his life had Jimin ever said something that he knew could damage something significant to him. Not once in his life had Jimin ever initiated an argument. Not once in his life had Jimin ever really argued, in fact. It had always been you yelling and Jimin nodding if anything.

But when things had stacked up, Jimin couldn't take it anymore. He'd cracked. He'd yelled. And he'd finally fought with his words.

Yet the fight doesn't symbolize anything except a double loss for Jimin because you had ultimately chosen Namjoon over him. Then, you'd proceeded to completely crush his heart by failing to recognize his love for you.

Jimin never had to worry about heartbreak. He and you had always been best friends, nothing more. No matter how much he loved you, he never acted upon it, which meant you never rejected him. So, yeah, no heartbreak.

But this... that fight... When you'd accused him of not knowing love... when he had loved you for years. That was heartbreak. And it is still heartbreak.

Jimin found it extremely hard to get out of bed every morning after the fight. Sometimes, throughout the day, when something even the slightest bit amusing happens, he whips out his phone to inform you of it. Then, he realizes he and you are not quite on speaking terms at the moment. Jimin also realizes if he can't text you, he has no one else to text.

Maybe you were right. Jimin needs more friends.

It's almost been a week since the fight on the phone; it has also been almost a week of constant rain. It pours down hard and steady, only slowing down for light drizzles in the afternoons. It's the only reassurance that Jimin can get. That you're just as sad as him. That some part of you misses him as much as he misses you.

The weather forecast said the rain was supposed to clear by tonight. But Jimin waits by his window, where the thunder clouds boom over the roof of his lonely house and the rain pounds against the concrete. It's a storm.

He worries about you.

Maybe he should text you? Call you? What if you're all alone in your room, crying profusely and that bastard of a boyfriend, Namjoon's giving you the silent treatment? It's like Jimin can feel your pain through the weather.

A lightning bolt flashes through the sky and four seconds later, Jimin hears the booming thunderclap. It wasn't supposed to rain today. You must be crying all alone. You must be missing your granny. You must be missing him.

Another sharp thunderbolt pierces through the dark rain clouds in the sky and the thunderclap rings louder than the last. That's it. Jimin picks up his phone.

It's sad that you're still the only person in his favorites contact 'list.' He taps on your icon and presses the phone against his ear, looking out the window as if you were out in the rain all by yourself. The phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Usually, by then, you pick up the phone. But it occurs to Jimin now, that this is not going to be a usual conversation. His phone is heavy in his hands and he rests his cheek against the cold window, wondering if you're ever going to pick up.

Maybe you're crying so hard that you can't hear your phone ring.

Jimin lets out a shaky sigh, just about to disconnect the call to avoid hearing the all-too painful dial tone when you finally pick up.

"J-Jimin?" you breathe, groaning. "God, Jimin."

"Y/N?" Jimin exclaims. "Thank god, Y/N!" he breathes a sigh of relief.

"Mmm," you groan again.

"That's right, princess. You're mine all right?" a hushed, masculine voice whispers.

"Joon," you whine, urgently. "Please..."

Jimin can hear the soft slapping of skin in the background, Namjoon's heavy grunts and your whimpering. Immediately, the hairs on the back of Jimin's neck stand up straight. It's then when he realizes that you're moaning from pleasure. That Kim Namjoon's fucking you right now. And that you had still decided to pick up Jimin's call.

Tears blur Jimin's sight as he fumbles to end the call, chucking his phone halfway across the room afterward. He crumbles up in a ball, digging his face into his arms and sobbing.

Did you disrespect him that much? To pick up the call so he could hear you having sex?

It's the first time Jimin's ever questioned why he's in love with you.

Maybe, in the beginning, he had good reasons, but that had been because you had good intentions. You had been boisterous, unafraid to go against the current, wild, rebellious and had this my-way-or-the-high-way kind of character. That's the person Jimin had fallen in love with. The girl who carried around a green marker in her pockets to correct others' grammatical errors. The girl who invented a secret language when she was young just because she felt like it one day. The girl who convinced herself and others that she could control the weather with her emotions. The girl who didn't give two shits about what anyone thought of her. The girl who wore whatever the fuck she wanted because she could. The girl who never showed him when she was sad because she wanted to be strong, resilient. That's the person Jimin had fallen in love with.

But who the fuck are you?

Jimin had used to think it was Namjoon's fault you were so different. But you'd let him change you. You'd become docile, tedious, plain. All the things Jimin was and is. It's your fault. You could've stopped everything if you wanted. You could've broken up with Namjoon. But you didn't. Because you wanted to change.

Jimin can't love the new you. He doesn't even know if he can see you again.

His body shakes hard with fear and rage.

He's definitely not going to see you again.

He was never your prince; you'd ultimately chosen Namjoon. And you were never his princess; he had been delusional to think so.

He's going to walk out of your life. He needs to leave. For himself.

Jimin had already spent a week without your company and that had been enough. Now he wants to cut off all contact with you. He's already blocked your number, switched apartments and stashed away everything that reminded him of you—which was fairly a lot of things. He was so determined to be independent, to forget what it felt like to be dependent on you.

But without your presence, his bland life was even blander than before.

Waking up every day and not walking you to work felt foreign to him. Friday nights felt lonely without you. Weekends were dull. Weekdays were even worse.

He missed having to hear your bright, cheery voice. He missed talking about the craziest things with you. He missed waking up in the morning and wondering what you would be wearing today. He missed Gilbert. He missed your granny, too. Most of all, he missed you.

But you'd hurt him. Whittled away his heart little by little over the many years just by never loving him back. You'd humiliated him by choosing the man you knew for four months over the man you'd been best friends with for two decades.

Jimin figures he'll miss you for a long time. You'd been a large part of his life, after all. He'd already broken off contact with you, and that was already a giant leap. The next step would be to stop thinking about you, and the step after that to stop missing you. And when that's all over, he can stop loving you.

Looking back, Jimin realizes he struggled to get his life back on track for nearly eleven, long months. He'd seen winter come, spring pass and summer leave. But just as winter was making its presence on the weather again, frosting the leaves of plants and chilling the morning air, he'd finally come to his senses.

The past eleven months had been mournful. But as the days passed, he'd allowed himself to think about his current life more than his past. It had occurred to him that now, he was living a life of no-nonsense. Of no silly, childish imaginations. He was living in reality. Where he should've been in for all of his life.

Sure, he spent his birthday alone and without you for the first time since he was five years old. But it was something he could get used to. Celebrating the day he turned one year older just didn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

Maturity suits Park Jimin well.

He'd always preferred things that were tangible, anyway. Things that could be proven. Things that made sense. It was time to say goodbye to the foolish things of his past: secret languages, weather-controlling, naming markers...

It took him eleven months, no, 25 years, but Jimin finally became an adult.  

He's 27, now.

He likes to drink black coffee in the morning like his co-workers. He likes vanilla ice cream the best just because it's the most simple. He likes to tell women that he's a civil engineer to impress them on first dates. He has an adequate number of friends. He goes to work five days a week, eight hours per day. He drinks on Friday nights, watches the news and goes to bed early. On the weekends, he spends his mornings reading articles in the science section of the paper and he hangs around bars at night with his friends.

It's a humble, normal, plain life. But Jimin likes it. It suits him.

He has thoughts about you from time to time; he would never forget what it felt like to love you. But he never again gets the urge to call you. You're a figment of his past, and Jimin's moved on.

The early spring breeze caresses Jimin's cheek as he walks steadily, staring at Google Maps on his phone and glancing up every once in a while so he doesn't run into a pole like last time. He was supposed to have a Sunday brunch with Jeon Jungkook but that silly bastard had canceled last minute on him to take his own girlfriend out on a date. Typical. But Jimin actually appreciates the alone time.

Jungkook had promised to take Jimin to a great cafe that was walking distance from Jimin's place. Since Jimin had nothing better to do, he decided to have his brunch there alone.

"You've arrived at your destination," the monotone voice named Karen drolls.

When Jimin looks up, he sees a small cafe sitting at the corner of the block, surrounded by towering trees shading the area and lots and lots of verdant green bushes. Something about the place seems homely. Familiar, even.

Deja vu, maybe? Jimin thinks.

He doesn't think much more and walks in. The inside of the cafe is decorated mainly with wood, green yarn and healthy vines twisting around the furniture. Jimin's hit by a cordial, oaky smell that instantly calms his nerves and clears his mind. The place is completely empty, too. His footsteps pad against the wooden floor as he admires the little cafe. The ordering counter stands in the corner, fairy lights and green paper lanterns dangling from it to illuminate its surroundings. Jimin walks towards the lights as if he were in a trance.

Something about this place seems so damn familiar.

Jimin hasn't felt this connected with nature, with this much creative liberty since—

"Jimin."

He whirls around, eyes widening and mouth dropping open when he recognizes the owner of that voice. Sure enough, he sees you, wiping your hands on a bright green waist apron. You're wearing a white pirate blouse that could've passed for a Halloween costume and a skirt with layers and layers of different shades of green fabrics—it looks like you'd made it yourself.

"Y/N," your name leaves his lips in a breathless whisper.

"Hey," you smile, waving awkwardly. "It's been a while, huh?"

A while? Two whole fucking years, in actuality. "Yeah, I guess," Jimin nods. He glances at the door, contemplating just leaving, but some instinct inside of him urges him to stay. "You work at this place?" he asks as he walks up to the counter where you're getting ready to take his order.

"Yeah," you giggle. God, Jimin had missed that smile of yours, but of course, he doesn't want to admit it. "Well, I own this place."

"Really?" Jimin asks. "It's beautiful."

"Thanks!" you say. "I decorated it myself. What can I get for you? Do you want me to recommend our best dishes? Look, we have a separate menu just for brunches!" you say excitedly, showing Jimin a neatly laminated menu laced with green yarn. "I recommend the Gilbert Special. Eggs, toast, bacon and hash browns. But, the Jimin Special is our house favorite!"

"The what?"

"100% off for the person it was inspired by," you smile. "That's you, by the way."

"W-Wow, Y/N, I'm—"

"No! You have to take the offer!" you say. "You can't even say you won't like it because it's literally all your favorite breakfast foods combined!"

Jimin smiles, shaking his head. "It's really the house favorite?"

"You bet it is," you laugh.

"Then I guess I'll have a Jimin Special," Jimin says. "Any chance it comes with a glazed donut?"

You shoot him a knowing look, a grin spreading across your lips. "It wouldn't be a Jimin Special without one."

Jimin ends up having brunch with you.

The icy, awkward barriers in the beginning slowly melt away into the friendship Jimin had known for more than half of his life. He dines on the best breakfast he could have ever asked for while getting to talk to you again after nearly two years. He can't imagine a better way to spend his Sunday.

Small talk with you is fun because you spice everything up with loud gasps, wide eyes and extroverted reactions that make even the dullest stories exhilarating. But it's suffocating to speak of such shallow things with a person he'd been best friends with for twenty years. Jimin's dying to know how you've really been, not what you found hilariously funny last week.

"So," he asks, "how are things with Namjoon?"

You snort, shaking your head. "God, that was fucking ages ago," you say. "We broke up a while back."

"Sorry," Jimin says. But he's not really.

"You're not that sorry, aren't you?" you laugh as Jimin's face morphs in shock when you call him out. "It's okay. I know how you feel about him. And I agree with you now. That idiot had the audacity to tell me to grow up. And he called you a good-for-nothing-awkward-ass-wimpy-child." You roll your eyes. "I knew it had to end when he said that. Besides, there's a certain highly endearing thing about innocence, don't you think? We should all be a little more childish."

"Wow," Jimin breathes.

"Wow, indeed," you smile wistfully. "That bastard could've said anything he wanted to me, but he shouldn't have dared to bring you up like that. I can't fucking believe I thought he was going to be my prince! I was so scared I'd lose him so I did everything he said, you know? God, in retrospect, I was just a really, really, oblivious and desperate idiot."

"You were just in love, Y/N," Jimin says. "Love makes you blind."

Your face twists for just a split second before you smile, shaking your head and sighing. "Jimin, I feel like I have to get this out before we become life-long best friends for fucking ever again."

"Hm?"

"I never apologized for what I told you like, two years ago," you say. "That fight we had on the phone? I told you that you didn't know love. And god, I've regretted saying that for every day, every hour, every fucking minute and second of my life. It was wrong." You shake your head, looking extremely disappointed in yourself. "At least what you told me was right. God, I was so angry, so terrified of losing my first love that I spit out words without thinking. How could I say you didn't know love, Jimin?" you say. "Of course you did—of course you do. You wouldn't have stuck by my side for years if you didn't. And Jimin, fuck. I love you too. I never said it enough. But I'm saying it now. I love you and I missed you. And I'm sorry I picked up the phone when I was having sex."

Jimin laughs. Around two years ago, that day had definitely not been a laughing matter. But only time can tell if the most depressing matters can morph into rather laughable memories. "I love you too, Y/N," he says. "And you shouldn't be sorry. I think we're all past that now."

"C'mon, I wanna show you how I redecorated my granny's home!" you say, bolting up and taking Jimin's cleared plates in your hands. "Meet me at the front of the cafe in two minutes!" you holler as you dash to the kitchen.

Jimin can't get rid of the smile on his face. He adjusts his jacket and stands up, taking another look around the cafe before he exits with a light skip to his step. He'll have to buy Jungkook dinner sometime for recommending this cafe to him. What was the name of this place, anyway?

Jimin steps back and squints at the big, capital letters placed on a banner in front of the cafe. He can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

"Nothing a Lil Green Can't Fix!" you exclaim as you come bounding down the steps of the cafe to stand next to Jimin. "Isn't that true? Green fixes like, everything."

"Lil's not a word, Y/N. I thought you knew better," Jimin jokes.

"Oh, spare me," you say, placing a dramatic hand on your forehead. "It had to be done. The stupid company had a character limit for the logo. It was either Nothing a Lil Green Can't Fix or Nothing Green Can't Fix," you huff. "And the latter is completely disgusting."

"I agree," Jimin snorts. "Then, in that case, I believe you made the right decision."

You smile. "I sure did. So, shall we go now?"

"Definitely."

Your granny's apartment looks exactly the same on the outside, but on the inside is an abundance of green. From plants to paintings to posters to silverware, everything is green.

"Nothing a lil green can't fix, indeed," Jimin breathes as you drag him around the whole place.

"Right?" you giggle. "Look! I even made a separate cabinet with all the birthday presents I've ever received from you!!"

The tour nearly takes five hours because the two of you get distracted every other minute, indulging yourselves in past childhood memories. And when Jimin's been tired out, the two of you lay side by side on your dark green sheets, silent but comfortable.

"Hey, Jimin?" you whisper, breaking the silence momentarily.

"Hm?"

"Remember our senior year in high school?"

"Of course I do," Jimin says. That year was the hardest (arguably) in your life. It was the year where you learned of the fatalities of death. It was the year you had lost your granny.

"We had the conversation about our true fears that year," you say with so much nostalgia in your voice that when Jimin closes his eyes, he can see the events of that day unfold before him. "Turns out, I didn't have just one fear. I had two. One was losing Granny. The other was losing you. And you know? For two years, I thought I lost you both. It hurt to think that my best friend hated me so much he had to dissociate himself from my life."

"I didn't hate you," Jimin says, opening his eyes as he turns to his side to look at you. "I swear. I just figured it was a good time for me to self-improve. You know, become independent for once. And maybe I didn't like who you had become, but I never hated you."

"Really?" you say, turning to face your best friend. "I was so scared that you'd shit talk me if I ran after you when you left that I didn't do anything. I thought it would've been better if I let you go. But I mean, I think the time apart was needed. We've self-improved."

"Yeah," Jimin agrees.

"So..." you say, a silly grin appearing on your face, "are we reunited now? Best fucking friends forever?"

"Of course we are," Jimin says.

"Okay, good," you say. "And before you say anything else, I have to ask you something, Jimin."

"What is it, Y/N?" Jimin asks, sitting up as you start to rummage in the pockets of your skirt.

"I just—" you're unable to finish your sentence, smiling. "Will you color me green, please?" you politely ask as you hold out a green marker in your hands.

"Oh my god," Jimin breathes. "Is that—"

"I pulled him out of the trash, Jimin," you say, eyes watering with emotion. "As soon as you left that night, I pulled him out. And then I kept him with me for years. I even recently got the ink replaced so it works fine, now." You let your tears fall down your face and you blink rapidly to see your best friend's softened face. "Did you really think for a second that I'd throw him away?" you ask in your secret language.

Jimin almost sobs right then and there. He'd never thought he'd hear that language again, and even after two years, he's able to understand you fluently. He hopes he doesn't sound too awkward when he replies, "I mean, you did have him in the trash can," he laughs, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. "You really want me to color you green again?"

"It's the bestest color in the world. What did you expect?"

Jimin's never been happier in his life. Tears streak your cheeks but you are unbothered by them, holding out Gilbert for Jimin to take. He takes note that you do not try to hide your tears anymore. In a way, you've become more beautifully confident. He realizes that you want to take him back to the start—the very beginning of when your friendship had commenced. With those simple words, "Will you color me green?" you've transported the two of you back to a place of innocence, of childishness, of thoughts of staying young forever, of avoiding maturity at all costs.

Outside, there's a slow drizzle of rain, indicating another spring shower. But above the soft gray rain clouds is a double rainbow. The colors are so vibrant, they wash away the monotonous hues of the clouds heavy with rain.

Romantic love makes people suffer. Jimin should know. He's been in love with you romantically for nearly two decades. He's felt feelings such as pain, experienced experiences such as heartbreak and dealt with the understanding of the wretched concept of unrequited love. But now? Two years later?

He realizes that you may never love him the way he had loved you. But that's okay. Because maturity is when you accept the way things are. Being childish is refusing to let go, which is what Jimin is too—he refuses to let go of you. But that goes the same for you, for you refuse to let go of Jimin.

You still love him. And for once in his whole fucking life, Jimin loves you in the same exact way that you love him.

a/n: find my behind the scenes thoughts and original endings here!

masterlist

[rambling-rabbit]

My Raven (Vampire Diaries oneshot)

Word Count: 2k

Pairings: Elijah x OC, and then Klaus x OC

AN: I forgot this is based on two songs: One Headlight by The Wallflowers (though I really like The Ready Set’s cover) and Snuff by Slipknot. I went through some stuff in high school lol. And that’s a reminder; I wrote this like 6 years ago. I heavily edited it, but I don’t think it’s a great piece of writing by any means. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!! :)

(I also think I wrote another part to this, so if anyone wants that I can dig it up)

So long ago, I don't remember when.

That's when they say I lost my only friend.

"I can't lose you, Elijah!" I yelled after him, black hair whipping around as I frantically tried to catch his face through the trees. He couldn't leave me, not like this. He promised. "Please, don't go." I could hear the vulnerability in my voice, where it hadn't been present in years. I felt sick to my stomach; he shouldn't be able to do this to me. I can’t believe I thought I was getting my happily ever after.

They say she died easy of a broken heart disease,

As I listened, through the cemetery trees.

"I'm sorry, my love. I must," his voice whispered out of the trees and I tried to follow him, but my legs were stuck like cement to the grass. The compulsion wouldn’t even let me sink to the ground to cry. "Our love is forbidden, and you are not safe with me." That didn't stop him from asking me to marry him, though, did it? "Don't fret, I will find you again." The overwhelming freezing sadness I had felt before was leached out of me and suddenly replaced with an anger that shot through my system, burning my blood. All I had done for months was fret about him; his father was out to kill him and he was finally deciding to leave me behind! I clenched my fists at my sides and breathed in slowly.

"Don't lie, 'Lijah!" I yelled out into the void, my voice stronger and clearer than before. "This is our goodbye forever." I could feel the heavy truth of my statement ring throughout the clearing. Sudden soft footsteps sounded somewhere to my right, but I resisted the urge to look at the man who had toyed with my heart for so long. "What are you waiting for? Leave already." My voice held no emotion anymore, even as tears dripped down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Elijah said again, sadder this time, and my heart cracked at the ridiculous amount of sincerity I thought I could hear in his voice, "I love you with all of my heart." I resisted an urge to snort, feeling a manic need to start laughing. If he loved me that much, he wouldn’t be doing this, and we both know it. "I give you my word that I will find you again," I gasped in a breath. His word meant everything to him. I immediately crushed the sprout of hope I wanted so badly to let grow in my chest. "Good-bye, my Raven." Then, he was gone, and the world around went black.

I looked up a few minutes later to see a new figure standing at the tree line. I got up mechanically and walked over to him.

"You seem different," he stated, smirking, no doubt having heard my and Elijah's conversation, "I wonder what could have happened?" This bastard, the man I had always thought of as a brother. How could I have been so stupid as to never see the monster inside. Every emotion in me seemed to bubble up all at once, it was overwhelming. I couldn’t focus, it felt like my brain and heart were being ripped out of my body. Closing my eyes, I focused on the absence I had been holding onto before. Meeting his eyes again, I could see he was taken aback at the coldness inside.

"Oh, nothing," I bluffed, turning around and walking away, "Just found a reason to turn off my humanity." I glanced back at him and smirked, the same smirk I had always seen on his face. I had learned from the best.

It always seemed such a waste,

She always had a pretty face.

I wondered why she hung around this place.

I woke up with an immense headache, again. My dream faded fast, but I knew what it meant. I glanced around and noticed my clothes strewn everywhere, but his were nowhere to be found. The shower turned on, and I silently moved into the middle of the floor. That dream could only mean one thing. 'Lijah was searching here. He couldn't find me so easily.

It was my fault he was so close. What was I thinking, crawling back to this bastard again? I sent a look of disgust at the door, even though it was fully directed at myself.

Using vampire speed, I picked up everything and got dressed. The skinny jeans came back on, along with the blue tank top and leather jacket. My sneakers were found in a vase and I had to pause for a moment to wonder when that happened. My nose crinkled as I realized the clothes in my own hotel room would have to stay there for quite a long time if I plan on getting out of this city before Elijah finds out I'm here.

If you love me,

let me go,

and run away before I know.

I could see the entrance to the hotel lobby. Freedom was in sight, mine for the taking. He wouldn't be able to question me on last night and Elijah wouldn't find me. Perfect.

"Hello there, love," his British accent almost made my knees buckle. I tell myself it's because it sounds so much like his brother's.

"What do you want, Klaus?" I asked snottily, trying to be nonchalant and pretend that nothing happened between us only a hand-full of hours ago.

“Why so cold, darling? Once upon a time we were almost siblings.” He gave that smile, the one made of slicing malice that gave a glimpse of the monster hiding inside. Although it seemed strange that he would bring up my previous engagement instead of the previous night, something about Klaus’s demeanor let me know that he’s the reason Elijah found me so quickly.

My heart is just too dark to care.

I can't destroy what isn't there.

“Yes, but unlike Kol or Finn, I don’t like you.” I answered, putting a bland smile on my face as I tried to hide how anxious I was to sprint out the door and never look back.

"Harsh, love." How does he know I love when he calls me that? I flinch inward at my own thoughts; now is not the time to get distracted. There isn’t anything to love about Klaus. He's a monster, murderer, and there's not a scrap of humanity in him! "I just came to say good-bye, Raven, since you seemed to have forgotten." I held my breath when he paused, watching that stupid smirk creep across his face. "But, about last night -"

"No!" My face heated at the thought of where that sentence was going, and I frantically glanced around, glad I hadn’t attracted too many stares. "It was a moment of weakness and it shouldn't have happened." Images from last night zoomed through my brain and I was incredibly glad that vampires couldn’t blush. 

"Now, see, I would believe you," Klaus took a few steps closer until I had to look up at him, "if this was the first time." He paused to see if I would interrupt, his dark eyes searching mine, but I wasn't entirely sure what to say. "May I remind you of just a few months ago when we didn't leave my room for three days except to hunt? Or how about New Years?" he was talking low so no one around would hear, but my advanced ears heard everything perfectly. He brought up some fair points, but I could never let him know what those nights meant to me. I laced my fingers behind my back so he wouldn’t see them shaking as I focused on breathing evenly. "And let me just say, the best was probably the night Elijah left you." Klaus's voice turned even colder than mine had been. The blood drained from my face and my mouth went dry. He had no right to bring that up. The worst night of my life played in my mind over and over again, bringing back the pain and the heartbreak that made me turn my emotions off in the first place.

I went to finally say something--what, exactly, I wasn’t sure--but this time he shushed me. "Just, give in and be happy. That's all I want from you, Raven. Be happy." He coaxed. There was an odd sort of tone in his voice; I would call it sadness, except Klaus was incapable of such a human emotion. "Don't keep running away every time we meet up." My breath went shaky as I thought about it. Being with him was as natural as breathing, even as he set my blood on fire and everything in me screamed to hold on tight and never let him go.

Klaus, the beautiful and blonde vampire, who could massacre a village and then turn and look into my soul with such softness it hurt. Why was it so hard to say no all of a sudden? It wasn't compulsion, but that was the only explanation for why I hadn't run away already. He was the reason my life ended, the reason I don’t have anyone to care for. He doesn’t deserve any compassion, not after everything he’s done. I shouldn’t want to lean in and press our lips together, order him to take me back to his room. I should care that Elijah is here, searching for me, and for the life we never got to have together. My head is spinning, and that wave of emotion I pushed away so long ago threatens to pull me under again.

If you still care,

don't ever let me know.

"I can't." The words sounded forced and weak, even to me. I clear my throat and look into his crystal blue eyes. "I can't." This time it comes out more firmly, and I can see a dash of hurt behind his usual facade. "Elijah was my true love.” The lies tumble from my lips, but I find strength in their falsehood. “Anything with you was done because of weakness and because I was emotionally unstable. Goodbye, Klaus." I pick up my bag and start walking away with my head held high. After all, I learned from the best.

We'll run until she's out of breath.

She ran until there's nothing left.

She hit the end,

it's just her window ledge.

Klaus sped in front of me and stared into my unemotional brown eyes. I could see the panic on his face for that split second, as if he really didn't want me to go. There was a world of words he was conveying, all too much for me to comprehend. Then, his features flattened, he stepped aside, and I walked out, trying not to show how surprised I was that Klaus let me see past his wall of emotional protection, even if it was only for a moment.

The second I was outside, tears started streaming silently down my face. I loved Klaus, almost always had. Ever since the night 'Lijah left, when he tried to help me pick up the pieces. I’ve pretended to forget how his actions affected me that night, but it was the first time I had felt alive since becoming a vampire. I thought my love for him was like a brother until that night, when I found out that my love for Klaus was so intense it scared me.

We wouldn't ever work, though. I sniffled and wiped my eyes as I stood against the wall outside the hotel. It would never work out. He was only after me as an ally. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. He was all for the kill and the power. How do I know he won't just kill me when I'm no longer useful? I can't trust him. My excuses feel weak, but they’re all I have.

Not bothering to glance around, I take off, already picking my next destination and leaving all of my problems behind.

If you still care, don't ever let me know...

[darkkitsuneprincess]

Homecoming pt.1 (Nobunaga x MC)

Several people have asked for a sequel to Preparations for War and have pretty much begged for fluff. And I started out with fluff...I SWEAR I DID. And then...then Hideyoshi had to go and be dumb and, well, here we are.

Don’t worry, kids...nobody dies. I can’t do that to any of my best boys. And part 2 will be all the fluff you can stand. It should be in your hands tomorrow.

Title: Homecoming (part 1) Pairing: Nobunaga x MC Rating: T/M (talk of violence and surgery) Word Count: ~4,000

Description: After three months, our heroes return from battle, but not in the best of ways. Angst with a dash of H/C and some horny Nobunaga for good measure.

WARNINGS: Angst. Lots and lots and loooooooots of angst. More angst than the first part. Major character injury with talk of death (but no death!). Vivid descriptions of medical procedures. Blood. Lots of blood.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

The page placed the neatly-folded letter in my hand with a bow and offered a sad smile before disappearing from sight. My sewing fell into my lap, forgotten, as I cradled the single sheet of paper in shaking fingers. Before I consciously registered that it was actually in my hands, a single, round spot of wetness marred the otherwise pristine surface.

Three months they’d been gone. Three long, lonely months I’d haunted the halls of Azuchi castle, waiting at Ieyasu’s side for our family to return.

I opened the letter carefully so as not to tear the paper and smoothed it out against my chest. There, in Nobunaga’s beautiful handwriting was yet another heartbreaking update.

  My love,

The tide of battle has finally turned and we may yet persevere. Our men are weary of battle, beaten down and exhausted. Longing for home. Perhaps if I’d thought to bring my lucky charm with me, this battle would have long-since ended and without the casualties.

My hands are stained with blood, yet I long to hold you again. My nights are lonely without you in my arms. I will return as soon as I am able. I love you.

Nobunaga

 I carefully refolded the letter and tucked it into my kimono as tears rolled down my face. I missed him desperately. I wanted him home with me. I wanted him to know the beautiful things that waited here for him. So many times I’d started to tell him in letters but in the end I’d burned them all. I wouldn’t do that to him; give him something else to worry about. No, I’d wait to give him the good news when he returned so that I could enjoy his reaction.

I wiped at my face with my sleeve and turned my attention back to my sewing. There was nothing else left to do but wait. And wait. And wait some more.

***

Another week passed with silence from the battlefield. I sewed, I cleaned, I cooked…I found any number of ways to distract myself from the fact that nearly everyone I loved was at risk. I couldn’t shake the sense of dread when I thought about all of them out there, struggling to make peace out of blood.

With all of my work for the day completed, I sat in the garden enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face. With my eyes closed and my face tilted toward the sky, it was easy to imagine my men coming home, the steady, rhythmic stomp-and-clank of marching warriors rattling the ground beneath them. I pictured Nobunaga’s face, streaked with dirt and smiling that infuriating, devilish smile of his. I imagined his arms sliding around my waist as he pulled me to him. My hand dropped to my belly, rounded enough now that I had to be careful how I dressed and how I sat in order to hide the evidence from the house staff. Only Ieyasu knew, and I wanted it to stay that way until Nobunaga returned.

“Lady Mai,” one of the castle pages called my name, pulling me from my beautiful daydreams and back into that harsh, lonely reality. He bowed when I turned to face him. “Lord Ieyasu has called for you.”

“I’m on my way,” I replied with a smile. He bowed again and disappeared. Once I was certain I was alone, I struggled to my feet, fixed my clothes, and exited the garden.

I found Ieyasu in the audience hall discussing trade arrangements with a new ally. The conversation seemed to be going well, if not a little awkward thanks to my contrarian friend, and when I attempted to back out of the room and leave them to it, Ieyasu lifted his hand and waved me over. The look on his face was almost one of relief when I obliged.

“I apologize for the interruption. A page said you were looking for me.”

“Yes,” he answered as I stepped onto the dais and he offered his hand to help me sit, for which I was grateful. At roughly the half-way mark of this pregnancy, my balance wasn’t exactly great. I tucked my legs beneath me and arranged my kimono to keep my growing belly hidden, and when I cast a glance at our guest, he gasped audibly.

“Lord Hiro, this is Princess Mai, Lady of the Oda.”

“My Lady,” he replied, dropping into a deep formal bow with his head against the floor, “rumors of your beauty abound, but they do not do you justice.”

“Careful, Lord Hiro,” Ieyasu admonished. “Remember that she is the wife of Lord Nobunaga, the man to whom you’ve recently sworn your loyalty.”

“I-I-I’m sorry,” Lord Hiro stammered, trying harder to push his face into the floor, “I meant no harm, I swear!”

“Please rise, Lord Hiro,” I cut in. “No offense was taken, I promise. I assure you, a lady always likes to hear compliments.” I turned to Ieyasu with a scowl. “Now play nice, Ieyasu.” He narrowed his eyes at me and shook his head, so I smiled as sweetly as I could and turned my attention back to our guest. “Tell me, Lord Hiro, what are your hopes for this alliance?”

The man slowly rose from the floor to recompose himself, but I noticed his hands shaking as he folded them into his lap.

“I am new to my position,” he admitted, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed the change in Ieyasu’s expression. This was news even to him. “Our land is small, largely unnoticed by the Shogunate in Kyoto. We are hard workers, my Lady, I promise you. But…”

He trailed off, as if he were afraid to speak.

“Please, Lord Hiro, continue.”

He took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “My people were mistreated by our former Lord. He wanted the Shogun to notice him, so he would take our crops and our crafts for his tributes and leave us with barely enough to survive.” His voice trembled on the last word. It broke my heart to hear. “When he died, he left no heir. So the Shogun’s people came and assessed our home before the infighting could begin. Because my family is one of the oldest in our land, I was given this charge.”

“That is quite the honor,” Ieyasu said, his voice cold and impassive. I elbowed him in the side when Hiro looked away. He grunted.

“It is,” I answered, turning my attention back to our guest. “I understand that being in charge of something so large can be terrifying,” I told him. “Look at the two of us—Ieyasu and I have kept Azuchi Castle going for months now while Lord Nobunaga is away. Like you, we are here to care for our people. So please, tell us what you need.”

“I…I wanted to open up trade with Azuchi,” Hiro answered. His shoulders straightened and the lines of worry left his face. “We do not have much right now, but with time and a little assistance, I know my people can be a valuable asset to Lord Nobunaga.” Excitement glimmered in his eyes when he spoke next. “We have skilled craftsman—woodworkers, blacksmiths, weavers…so we can pay in trade. But we need food. Our people are starving.”

“Then food you shall have,” Ieyasu answered, his tone much softer than before. The statement brought tears to Hiro’s eyes. “Speak with Daichi on your way out and he will arrange for the deliveries.”

The man fell into a tearful, formal bow, his forehead once again on the floor at our feet. “Thank you, Lord Tokugawa! Thank you so much! And thank you, Lady Mai! Your kindness has healed my heart.”

“You are very welcome, Lord Hiro. Now please, return to your people and help them prosper.”

Once Hiro was out of earshot, Ieyasu sighed and shook his head.

“Did you have to do that in front of him?” he asked.

“He wasn’t looking,” I answered with a sweet smile. “Besides, you totally deserved it.”

“I did not!”

“Yeah, you did.” I laughed when Ieyasu turned his face away to hide his own smile. “So why did you want to see me?”

“They’re coming home today,” he said and produced a letter from his kimono. Everything around me went fuzzy as his words registered in my head. I took the letter and scanned it, Nobunaga’s writing surprisingly sloppy as if he were in a hurry. It was true; Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, Ranmaru, and Mitsunari were on the way home. Masamune and Mitsuhide were staying behind to clean up the mess.

“Really? This is real?” I asked, disbelieving as I waved the paper between us.

Ieyasu rolled his eyes at me. “Of course it is. That was delivered last night. They’ve secured peace along the southern border. However, there’s one more thing.” He held up another letter, though he didn’t let me have it. “Hideyoshi has been injured.”

My breath seized in my lungs and tears sprang to my eyes. “I-is he…”

“He’s alive,” Ieyasu confirmed. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but he did something stupid and you need to be aware of it.”

My gut roiled and inside my belly, my unborn baby began to squirm. If Hideyoshi managed to get hurt, that meant…

“He covered Nobunaga, didn’t he?” I asked.

Ieyasu nodded. “He took an arrow through the left side of his chest. After the fighting ended, they’d returned to camp. An assassin, acting alone from what I understand, made an attempt on Nobunaga’s life.” My breath escaped in a stuttering cry before I could cover my mouth with my hand. Nausea bubbled up my throat behind it. “Apparently Hideyoshi’s armor was damaged during combat and when he leapt in front of Nobunaga to stop the assassin, the arrow pierced it.”

“No…oh, no. Tell me he’s going to be okay.”

“I won’t know for certain until they arrive. One of the field medics cut the arrow off and bandaged it, but they were afraid to remove it because they don’t know what it might have hit. Nobunaga is bringing him home himself.”

Tears ran freely down my face. While I was thankful that Nobunaga was okay, the idea that Hideyoshi willingly put himself in harm’s way and was actually harmed scared the daylights out of me. My chest ached and what little breakfast I’d managed to eat threatened to come back. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I didn’t want to believe it.

“Mai? Are you still there?” Ieyasu asked, waving his hands in front of my face. My attention snapped back to him.

“Sorry…”

“I said I need you with me for this,” he repeated. “You’ve handled arrow wounds before and Hideyoshi trusts you.” He glanced down at my belly then back at my face. “Do you think you can do it?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.

“Then let’s get ready. They’ll be here soon.”

***

I’d just finished sterilizing our equipment when the doors burst open and in stormed Nobunaga with a flourish. He was covered from head to toe in dirt and blood, and the lines of worry etched into his face broke my heart. His gaze found me and a mixture of relief and fear flooded his features. I didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, as only a breath later Ranmaru and Mitsunari shuffled in carrying an equally muddy and bloody Hideyoshi, though the majority of the blood on him appeared to be his own.

“Careful now,” Ieyasu instructed as he helped them place Hideyoshi on the prepared table.  He was conscious though I had no idea how, and groaning in pain. “Drink this,” Ieyasu ordered, tipping a cup up to Hideyoshi’s lips. Our friend swallowed, though not without great effort, then I began to wipe away the grime from his face.

His skin was pale and waxy from the blood loss, his eyes sunken and yellowed. His breath came in tiny, wet gasps. He looked…he looked like he was dying.

“Hang in there, ‘yoshi,” I whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek. “We’ve got you. You’re gonna make it.” His hazy eyes locked onto mine for a second and recognition flared in his gaze. Then his eyes fell closed as if the effort of recognizing me had sapped all of his energy.

Ieyasu unwound the blood-soaked bandage while I set about removing as much of his armor as I could reach.  With each tug, Hideyoshi groaned in pain. Ieyasu cut his chestplate between the ribs of metal, careful not to disturb the stump of the arrow sticking out of it. The sight and its imagined pain brought about a series of dry heaves in me.

I’ll make him new armor myself, I thought to remove my mind from the wet work in front of me.

“Stick with me, Mai,” Ieyasu murmured. I nodded and pulled the last of the ties free, focusing my attention on my hand and not the possibly fatal wound of my dear friend. Hideyoshi’s eyes rolled in his head and he cried out when Ieyasu lifted him enough for me to pull away the plates of armor surrounding his body. His clothing underneath was soaked through with blood and we could see then just how deep the arrow had gone. Ieyasu wrapped the arrow in cloth and placed my hands around it while he cut away the rest of Hideyoshi’s clothing.

“At least it missed his heart,” I said, my own voice wobbling. “It’s also high enough that it shouldn’t have hit his lung either.”

“You’re right,” Ieyasu replied. “But it’s going to bleed a lot.”

“I know.” This was bad. So bad…

“Here.” He handed me a strip of worn leather. “Double it over and stick it in his mouth.” He glanced over his shoulder at Nobunaga. “I need you to hold him down. This is going to hurt like hell.”

I moved around, lifting Hideyoshi’s head and placing it in my lap while Nobunaga took my place at his other side. He’d stripped off the majority of his armor from the waist up but he, too, was still covered in layers of dirt and blood. Mitsunari squeezed in between Ieyasu and me, then he and Nobunaga placed their hands on Hideyoshi’s shoulders and pinned them to the table. Ranmaru appeared beside Nobunaga, placing his full weight on Hideyoshi’s thighs to further pin him in place.

“Hold still, stupid monkey,” Nobunaga snarled. “You have to live through this so I can kill you myself. Idiot.” I worked the leather into Hideyoshi’s mouth and held it down against the sides of his face, pinioning him against my legs so he couldn’t struggle—not that he had much strength left to fight with anyway.

“Listen to me, Hideyoshi,” Ieyasu said. “This is going to hurt. I have to get the arrow out. Don’t fight or I might kill you.”

The gleaming blade sank into Hideyoshi’s chest, widening the hole. His body tensed and would have bowed upward if not for the six extra hands holding him down. I pulled the strap tighter and felt him bite down on it, muffling his scream. A moment later I heard the thunk of the barbed arrowhead hitting the wooden bowl at Ieyasu’s side. The pressure on the strap eased and I dropped it, leaning over and placing my hands over the wound to push down. Hideyoshi groaned, though this new pain was probably nothing compared to what he’d just felt. Blood bubbled up through my fingers and I could feel the rapid fluttering of his heartbeat under my hands.

“Hurry, Ieyasu…we’re going to lose him!” I cried, and a moment later he swept my hands to the side and poured sake directly into the wound. Hideyoshi cried out again, his voice weaker still. The clear liquid mixed with the blood, turning it a sickly pink color that ran over his chest and down his sides, soaking into the remnants of his clothing. Ieyasu flooded the wound a second time then quickly stuffed the hole with an herb-filled cloth. It immediately turned red, but it was gone from sight a moment later, hidden behind the layers of bandages. I took the long bandages and wrapped them around Hideyoshi’s shoulder while Ieyasu and Nobunaga held him up, then took the rags and warm water we’d prepared and carefully washed his face, neck, arms, and chest while Ieyasu removed the remainder of his armor. Nobunaga rose and herded the others out while we continued to work.

Then all of a sudden, the excitement was over. Weakness filled my limbs, and for a moment I wanted nothing more than to lie down beside Hideyoshi and sleep. It was over. Hideyoshi was no longer screaming. Mitsunari was no longer whimpering, Nobunaga no longer cursing. There was no more blood except what was soaked into my clothes and staining my hands. It was just…quiet.

Hideyoshi’s breathing slowed and when I pressed my palm to his chest, I felt his heartbeat. It was still too fast for my liking, but it was at least steady now that the worst of the trauma was over. I continued to hold his head in my lap, brushing his matted hair back from his forehead, and prayed to anyone who would listen for his recovery.

Ieyasu checked his bandages and, seeing nothing immediately alarming, replaced the wrappings and leveled out another dose of medicine.

“He’s going to be alright, Mai,” Ieyasu said beside me. “He’ll stay here with me for now. I’ll change the bandages and keep giving him medicine to keep the infection away.” He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Someone else needs your attention more.”

My heart stuttered. I’d daydreamed a thousand ways to welcome Nobunaga home…and none of them included emergency surgery on his right-hand man. Every single one of my plans had been foiled and Ieyasu was right…I needed to find him.

Carefully, I worked my way out from under Hideyoshi’s head, bending to kiss his forehead one more time before rising and leaving through the open door.

I found Nobunaga at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall. His head was tilted upward, his eyes closed. His hands were balled into fists at his sides and he struggled to breathe. He looked so broken…

Though even dirty and bloodstained, he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. The sight of him took my breath away and made my heart ache.

“Nobunaga,” I called as I moved to his side. My voice seemed to startle him. “Welcome h—”

Before I could finish my statement I was in his arms, his mouth crushed against mine. He held me so tight I couldn’t breathe and he kissed me with such ferocity that I feared he might devour me whole. My back was against the wall in the next instant, his big body pressed against mine top to bottom. I kissed him back with equal hunger, threading my hands through his dirty hair and pulling him even closer. Every bit of the stress and strain of these last three months melted away under that kiss.

When he released me, we were both breathing hard. His forehead touched mine and we remained like that for a long time, just enjoying the fact that we were together again. That we were still alive.

“I love you, Mai,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” I answered. “Now come on. Ieyasu will take good care of Hideyoshi. He’s going to be okay. But you…you’re about to fall over. We both need a bath and we have a lot of catching up to do.”

Nobunaga snickered and his arms tightened around me. “That we do, my love.”

He released me only to drape one arm around my shoulders and lead me away. I leaned into his side, enjoying his warmth and the feel of him beside me. While we walked, I told him of our earlier meeting with Lord Hiro and filled him in on the petty ramblings and gossip of the townspeople—all the things that had filled my days. Everything except…one thing.

The maids were well ahead of us in that they’d already prepared a bath for Nobunaga—probably Ranmaru’s doing if I had to guess—and vacated the area for us. The room was warm and quiet, and smelled of spicy incense. I slid the door closed behind us, and as it clacked against the frame, Nobunaga sighed. The weight of every action over the last three months sat heavy on top of the sound and when I turned I found an unusual expression on his face.

“What?” I asked. His lips quirked up in a lopsided grin.

“There is something different about you,” he replied. “Three months is quite a long time, but…”

“But what?” I turned away to prepare the cloths and his arms closed around me from behind, pulling my back flush with his chest. He caught my earlobe between his teeth and tugged gently, causing a ripple of pleasure to tickle down my back.

“But…I can always tell when my wife is hiding something from me.”

I pulled out of his arms as a near-hysterical giggle clawed its way out of my throat and his gaze darkened. He crossed his arms over his chest, assuming the angry dad pose.

“Now I know you’re hiding something from me.”

“Maybe,” I answered noncommittally. “But that’s for later. We need to get you clean first. Now strip.”

Nobunaga chuckled, letting the conversation go, and unwound the ties holding on his clothes. I knelt at the foot of the stool where he sat and began the slow process of removing three months’ worth of dirt and grime from my husband’s body. The clean water turned a murky brown as it rolled over his skin, and as I began to scrub, various cuts and bruises appeared. Each one was like a tiny knife to my heart, yet served to remind me that he was still here in my arms and very much alive.

“All done,” I said as the last cup of now-clean water rolled down his back. “You soak while I go find you something to eat.”

“You could join me,” he said, pulling me to him and kissing me gently. “We’ve been apart so long and I don’t want to wait any longer to hold you.”

“If I get in that tub with you, we’ll never get back out,” I answered, trying hard to ignore the feel of his big hands sliding over my sides and down my back.

“I see no problem with this.”

“Well I do. The water will go cold and then where will we be?”

“Making love in a tub of cold water,” he answered with a laugh, then kissed my forehead and let me go.

“You’re impossible.”

“Perhaps. I’ll be quick.”

I left him to finish his bath and went to the kitchen in search of food. It was late and the majority of the house staff had already turned in for the night. To my surprise, though, I found Ranmaru had already beaten me to the punch.

“Lady Siobhan!” he chirped when he spotted me, abandoning his task and running up to hug me. “You were so amazing today! And I was so afraid! Lord Hideyoshi…is he…”

“He’s going to be okay,” I confirmed and his shoulders sagged with relief. “Ieyasu is with him and will bring him back just to kill him again if he dies.”

“That’s…scary, but reassuring. I think.”

“What are you doing in here so late?”

“I, well, I thought Lord Nobunaga might be hungry. None of us have had a real meal in months and after all the excitement…” The pretty young man dropped his head, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“You and I had the same thought,” I told him, which brought a smile back to his face. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh good!” He grabbed my hand and towed me around to show me what he was working on.

TBC in Part 2

[spartanguard]

two doors down

Summary: Emma's just had her heart broken—again. But she's going to distract herself by finally going to her friends' party, two doors down from her apartment. The party—and the dashing gentleman she meets at it—prove to be just what she needed.

3.2k words | rated light M | AO3

A/N: Here I go again...back on my Dolly Parton bs. But I make no apologies because Dolly in an inspirational queen. I’ve wanted to write a one-shot based on Two Doors Down pretty much ever since I heard the song, and the @csconcertseries​ seemed like the right opportunity to scratch that itch. (and then Dumb Blonde demanded to be included as well because it’s a bop.) so...have fun!

“Really, Emma?” Walsh sneered when she confronted him. “You thought I was serious about you? I guess you really are a dumb blonde.”

In case anyone was wondering why Emma was crying, it was that. She shouldn’t be—it was dumb, he was dumb, not her—but that didn’t seem to matter, apparently. The asshole had somehow managed to find a crack in the walls around her beat-up, bargain store heart and, once inside, found an old bruise and punched it. Or something like that. She wasn’t great with words.

Or emotions, apparently, or men—though she was already aware of that one (thus: the walls). (Well, okay, and being abandoned by her parents and growing up in the shittier parts of the foster system. But that’s besides the point.) Anyways. She had thought that maybe, finally, she’d found one guy who wouldn’t hurt her—who was safe enough to consider giving her heart to. 

And then she’d caught him sleeping with a coworker. On a mattress in his furniture store. On their anniversary. 

And he apparently had the gall to call her dumb. What a dick.

After giving him the rightful slap he was due, she stormed out and ran home. Then she grabbed the wine she’d been saving for tonight, popped the cork, and drank right out of the bottle.

What a fucking loser.

(She wasn’t sure if that applied more to her, or to him.

Because, at the end of the night, she was the one drinking alone while he was probably still having too much fun on his own merchandise.) 

With about half the bottle gone, she finally hit the point where all her tears were gone and she was probably some level of dehydrated. Her apartment was eerily quiet without the sound of her sobs, it seemed, but she could hear loud music coming from down the hall. 

Oh yeah—Dave and Snow’s party.

They were her neighbors—well, they lived two doors down, but she definitely talked to them more than the grumpy dude who lived between them. They were easily the nicest, most outgoing people on the planet, and had been trying for as long as Emma had lived there to come over to one of their parties. 

Usually, Emma was able to use work as an excuse, or a date (like she was supposed to have had tonight), to explain why she couldn’t go. But it was really fear—fear of rejection, of not measuring up, of plain old awkwardness—that kept her away.

It always sounded like a good time, though, and she could hear the music pumping and people laughing whenever they hosted these get-togethers. Apparently, they were at the drunk-enough-to-sing-loudly part of the night, because she heard the lyrics perfectly as the crowd shouted them:

Just because I’m blonde, don’t think I’m dumb ‘Cause this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool

She laughed, albeit watery, at that, considering Dave was the blond of the two of them. But then she thought about it again, and what her ass of a now-ex had said: there was nothing dumb or foolish about Emma. Maybe she should have listened to that voice that had told her she was out of his league when he’d first asked her out, but right now, she just needed to tune out his grating words and focus on Dolly’s—about kicking trash to the curb and moving on.

And, you know what? She was gonna go to that party.

She blew her nose (rather noisily), then quickly washed her face and changed into something a little more presentable than her pajamas. She probably should be bringing something over, but her wine was gone and Walsh had drank the last of her beer the other night. She briefly considered the half-empty box of Pop-Tarts in her cupboard, but that was breakfast.

So, empty-handed as she was, she headed out the door, locked it, and wandered down the bit of hallway to the Nolan’s place. She could hear the sounds of revelry and pounding bass on the other side of the door, and was nervous—would they think she was intruding? Her knock was equally timid, and probably not even heard by the crowd inside. 

To her shock, though, the door was thrown open a few seconds later. “Emma! You came!” Snow shouted, then launched herself at Emma in an inebriated hug. “Oh, I’m so glad you finally made it! Where’s Walsh?”

Emma cringed, and not just from Snow’s alcohol-elevated volume. “He’s fucking his floor manager. So he’s busy. But I’m not now!” she added, trying to make it sound not terrible.

But Snow gasped anyways, covering her mouth in shock. She ushered Emma in, closing the door behind her, and then dragged her to the living room. “You need wine.”

“I had, like, half a bottle already.”

“Okay, well, you need more.”

“I won’t disagree.”

Snow left her in the middle of a throng of people that thankfully included David, who wrapped her into a bear hug (that only slightly smelled like beer—beer hug?) and made some introductions. Snow returned shortly with a pint glass full of pinot, and the next hour became a blur of booze and dancing. 

She quickly made friends with girls named Ruby and Belle who, once they heard about what had happened to Emma that day, got some shots involved. The music was a solid mix of girl power anthems (there may have been more screaming to “Since U Been Gone” and “Wannabe” from partygoers of all genders) and Emma found herself seriously wondering just what the hell she���d been doing the past few months—both with Walsh and in her avoidance of these parties; she was having way more fun here than she ever had with that douche.

Eventually, she did have to take a respite to visit the restroom and get some water—she wasn’t about to blackout over a breakup—but when she left the bathroom, she wasn’t watching where she was going and slammed into someone else.

“Woah—you alright, love?” the lilting voice attached to the firm body asked. She could feel his hand squeezing her shoulder, but given her very recent track record, was scared to look this guy in the eyes. The last thing she needed was a face as pretty as that accent, or as enticing as the bit of chest hair peeking out through his button-up, or as alluring as the scent of his cologne (which she got a good whiff of when her face collided with his chest).

“Seriously—are you okay?” He sounded so concerned—her head was moving before she could think otherwise.

And that was either the best thing she’d ever done, or the worst.

Dark, messy hair hung over his forehead, where thick brows were furrowed with worry. A strong nose pointed to full lips, surrounded by gingery scruff that led her mind other places. But his eyes—holy crap; even in the dimness of the hallway, they were a bright blue, and she’d had just enough to drink that she thought she just might be swaying along with the waves in their oceanic depths.

(She got poetic when she got drunk; this was a well-established fact.)

“Lass?” Oh god--she’d been staring, hadn’t she? 

“Fine! I’m fine. Sorry. Are you?”

“‘Fine’ is definitely something I’ve been called,” he quipped back, concern melting into cockiness with a wink.

Ugh, she didn’t need any more of that in her life. She rolled her eyes and stepped back, putting enough distance between them to not feel the warmth coming off of him (she was producing enough of that herself--or, at least, the shots of vodka were). “Good to know. I’m just gonna get back out there, then.” Avoiding his gaze, she did her best to slip around him in the narrow hallway.

“Wait,” he called out, and grabbed her wrist as she slipped by. “Sorry; that wasn’t very gentleman-like.” He was definitely being sincere, she could tell. “I, uh, I’m rusty at all this. Let me back up: I’m Killian; I’m a friend of Dave’s from college.”

Of course his name was sexy, too. He’d stuck his hand out amiably; she’d be the asshole not to take it. So she did. “Emma; I live a couple doors down.”

“Ahh, yes--I’ve heard of you: the mysterious neighbor,” he said, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Delighted to finally make your acquaintance.”

Who was this guy? And why did he talk like he had stepped out of a Jane Austen novel? “I bet you tell all the girls that.”

He shrugged. “There haven’t been any of those lately.”

“Guys, then?”

He laughed—a deep chuckle that she wouldn’t complain about hearing again. “No, none of those, either.”

“Good. They suck.”

“What, all of them?”

“Most of them.”

“Well, hopefully I find myself in the minority.” He was still holding her hand, and brought it to his lips to place a kiss on the back of it. Were it not for the slight shiver that went through her at that, she’d be running for the hills (or at least her own apartment); but she was usually good at spotting a lie, Walsh notwithstanding, and she could tell he meant it. 

“Wanna get a drink?” she asked, a bit breathless.

“Absolutely.”

They grabbed another round of wine and took a seat on the couch, which was somehow unoccupied—everyone was still busy dancing and drinking and socializing. Honestly, Emma was a little surprised that so many people fit in a two-bedroom apartment (but it wasn’t like she’d ever tried to have more than a couple people in hers). 

“So, what’s your story?” Killian leaned in close to ask. They were practically nose-to-nose in order to be heard over the music, but she didn’t mind it. And, for some reason, she found her entire life story spilling out to him; not even Walsh had learned everything: about growing up in the foster system, her first heartbreak and the baby she gave up, the reason she’d gone into bailbonds work (so people like Neal couldn’t continue to break hearts). Even the sordid tale of her very-recent breakup.

“He’s a right arse,” Killian said, clinking his glass with hers. “But I’m glad his absence has brought you into my presence.”

“Me too,” she said.

His past was equally tragic: mom died, dad left, then brother died; lost his hand, his girlfriend, and his naval career in the same accident; but he still got to work as an engineer, and still got to go sailing on the weekends.

“God, Killian...you poor thing,” was all she could say.

He averted his gaze—and was either blushing, or flushed from the alcohol and heat of the room—and just said, “It’s in the past, where it belongs. And, honestly, the future is looking pretty good right now.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, I hope so.”

She wasn’t bold enough to say it—or confident, given that she was just coming out of a relationship—but she was thinking that, too.

The music switched from girl pop to Disney tunes—it was only a matter of time, considering that Snow was only a few steps away from being an IRL Disney princess—which prompted a conversation about their favorite Disney films, then movies in general, then books and music and all sorts of things. It was casual and easy and, honestly, she didn’t think she’d ever connected with someone so quickly; not since she was a kid and still had some innocence about her.

A slow song came on, and Killian set down his empty glass. “Would you care to dance?”

She gaped a bit; no one had ever asked her that. “What—for real? To this?”

“You just told me you’d seen Enchanted, and I believe that’s what they did to this song. So yes: will you, Emma Swan, dance with me?”

Somewhere, lonely teenage Emma was yelling at her to say yes and fulfill all her wildest prom dreams. Oh, who was she kidding—grown-up Emma still had those dreams. “Yeah, I will.”

He stood and offered her his prosthetic hand; she set her empty glass aside and took it, then followed him up. Gently, he guided her to an empty spot in the room—about 2 feet away—and then put his hand on her waist; she was probably supposed to put hers on his shoulder or something, but she did the same (and definitely noticed the firmness of his core).

They didn’t have much room to move—Dave and Snow were making out a few feet away, as were Ruby and Belle, and another couple—but Killian somehow managed to perform some actual dance steps. 

“What the heck is that, and how do you know it?” she wondered aloud, trying to keep up.

“It’s called a waltz, and there’s only one rule,” he explained, then leaned in to whisper in her ear: “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She’d definitely had a bit too much to actually memorize the steps, but she managed to keep up for a bit, until she lost her balance a bit after hitting the edge of the coffee table. Once again, she fell into his chest, but this time, he wrapped his arms tight around her to stabilize her—and she did the same.

“Is this a habit of yours?” he joked, but the twinkle in his eye told her that he wasn’t complaining.

“Just with you,” she tossed back.

“And what makes me so special?”

“You get it.”

He gave her a shy smirk that cut an adorable dimple into his scruff. 

And she couldn’t help it: she kissed it.

The wide-eyed stare he wore when she pulled back told her that it was as much a shock to him as it was to her; she never made the first move. But there was just something about him that made her want to throw caution to the wind—or maybe she just knew it was okay to do that with him. 

Feeling even bolder, she grabbed his shirt and pulled his lips down to hers. He didn’t hesitate to respond in kind and god, he was good: the right amount of pressure, the scratch of his beard, the feel of his hand on her back...oh man.

She normally wouldn’t have done what she did next—not when there were feelings involved, at least—but hey, it was a night for doing new things, right?

“Do you want to take this somewhere else?” she murmured when they eventually broke apart for air.

“Where did you have in mind?”

“My place.”

“Lead the way, love.”

It didn’t seem like anyone noticed as they slipped out, and she’d never managed to get her door open faster. It had just clicked shut before she was on him, pressing him back against it, her hands wandering over his upper body while her tongue picked up where their earlier dance had left off.

Her fingers found themselves near his belt, and before they went too far, his warm hand gently stilled hers. “Are you sure, love?” he asked, panting. “I...I don’t just want to be a rebound,” he confessed.

God, she hadn’t even thought of that. Walsh was already a distant memory. “I don’t want that, either.”

“Alright, then. Proceed.”

“God, you’re a dork.”

“Guilty.”

“Good thing I like it.”

Her lips found his again as her fingers danced over him, and his over her; a trail of clothing marked their path to her bedroom (with only a brief stop against the back of her couch), and they landed naked on her unmade bed.

His large hand and deft fingers found their way to her entrance and were lightly teasing it--the gentlest of brushes that nearly had her seeing stars, and definitely distracted her from fishing the condoms out of her bedside table.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not; might need an extra hand, though.”

She almost came back down to earth just to glare at him, but the cheesy grin he wore just made her laugh. It wasn't like she minded, anyway.

She used the opportunity to do a bit of foreplay herself, stroking his considerable length before, during, and after gliding the sheath on. The guttural groan he let out went straight through her.

Enough foreplay—she needed him. She grabbed his shoulders and pressed her chest against his; the brush of his chest hair against her nipples had her arching into him, and his hard cock was pressing right where she wanted him. “You ready?”

“Gods, yes,” he breathed.

And when they came together, she couldn’t remember anyone she’d ever been with before. She was completely aware of the hyperbole but honestly, he just felt so good inside her.

Then he moved, and she forgot her own name, and his, and anyone else’s.

She’d had the kind of sex before where time seemed to stop, but with Killian, it seemed to stop even longer, if that was possible; once they found their rhythm, every press of their hips brought her nearer and nearer to the edge of oblivion, but not so fast that she couldn’t enjoy it.

When she finally fell off, she hadn’t even realized she’d been that close—and let the waves of pleasure wash over her with abandon.

Killian wasn’t far behind her; she felt him still within her as he came with a shout. Normally, she’d be worried about how much noise they made, but she could still hear music coming from the Nolan’s; they were safe.

He collapsed beside her just long enough to catch his breath, then excused himself to clean up. God, he really was a gentleman; a lot of the guys she’d been with hadn’t been so polite about that. He came back a couple minutes later with a washcloth for her to use--seriously, no guy had ever done that. Then he flopped back on her creaky mattress and wrapped his left arm around her.

“You’re bloody incredible, love...and bloody gorgeous,” he said softly, then pressed a kiss on her bare shoulder.

“You’re no slouch, either,” she replied, and hoped the light was dim enough that he couldn’t see how furiously she was blushing. 

“You know...I almost didn’t go to the party tonight,” he said. “It was a long day and I wasn’t sure I felt up to people.”

“Yeah?” Logically, she knew other people had had shitty days, but it was easy to forget about in the face of her own. 

“I’m very glad I did, though,” he continued.

“So am I.”

He pressed a gentle kiss against her lips then, and pulled her a bit closer with his prosthesis. “Think we should head back?” he proposed.

“Mm, nah,” she answered. “They’ll have more parties.”

“Aye, they probably will.”

“And I like the one we’re having right now.”

“Mm, as do I.”

The other party continued into the wee hours of the morning, but Emma and Killian’s went even longer: all through the night, through part of the next day, and for a very, very long time thereafter.

Some time later, she heard that Dolly song again, and another set of lyrics stood out to her:

And you know if there's one thing this blonde has learned Blondes have more fun

She looked over at Killian and smiled; damn right they do.

-------------------------------------------------

thanks for reading! tagging some friends: @kat2609​ @thesschesthair​ @optomisticgirl​ @xpumpkindumplingx​ @shipsxahoy​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​ @mryddinwilt​ @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @distant-rose​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @pirateherokillian​ @bleebug​ @its-imperator-furiosa​ @fergus80​ @killianmesmalls​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @effulgentcolors​ @laschatzi​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​ @nfbagelperson​ @stubble-sandwich​​ @killian-whump​ @lenfaz​ @phiralovesloki​ @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​

[trensu]

Episode 20: The One where WangXiantics becomes W(angst)Xiantics

So we start the episode on a high note by watching wc and jj suffer a mental breakdown

We won’t go into detail bc we don’t actually care about them

We are, however, gonna take the time to admire the cut of wwx’s silhouette as he stands on the rooftop playing his demon flute

For real tho, he’s killin it here (on a rooftop! did i mention that? bc all great scenes happen on rooftops)

Enshrouded in shadow with wisps of resentful energy flowing around his flute as he plays

And the only light on him frames just his eyes, emphasizing his cold focus as he rains terror on the two who hurt his family and destroyed his home

Chills...this is not a guy you want to cross

Okay Plot Stuff happens and wwx is gone by the time JC and LWJ show up at the scene of the crime

More plot stuff

Plot plot, wen qing and jc have a moment and there’s a comb, plot plot

Jc and lwj are hunting down wc and wen zhuliu 

Plot plot plot

They finally find them holed up somewhere, idk where, it doesn’t matter

Jc is about to rush in but lwj, being sensible, stops him and tells him they should observe first

So they sneak onto the roof and watch shit go down through a missing tile

Wc and wzl are there doing stuff that doesn’t matter

But then an ominous breeze picks up and we see black boots slowly start climbing a staircase leading to where wc and wzl are

This kind of echoes lwj’s scene in the last episode, which is GREAT

The steps are not hurried in any way. There’s no rush bc wc and wzl are right where he wants them to be

The “he’ here is revealed to be WWX!!! 

YOU LOOKIN FINEEEE IN THOSE ROBES WWX

(tbh, all of our boys are looking pretty dashing)

(@theuntamednarrator​ and i decided that lwj and jc were probs trying to one up each other in the fashion department bc they wanted to look ESPECIALLY handsome and heroic when they finally find wwx. And no, you cannot change our minds. This is definitely what happened.)

There’s some banter between wzl and wwx that doesn’t really matter except for this gem of a line that is just SO GREAT i can’t NOT include it

Wen zhuliu says something about repaying his debts to wen ruohan

Wwx: why do other people have to pay for your gratitude?

DAAAAAMN BOY

LOOK AT YOU DROPPING THE MIC

WWX whips out his flute and starts to play

Lwj sees all the resentful energy wwx is summoning and his eyes widen (by like, a lot) in shock

A pause here to mention that the lady in red that wwx summons is by far the COOLEST THING EVER (the special effects here are actually special for once lol)

i am very upset we didn’t get to see more of her. 

What the heck wwx, she’s so effective and awesome?? 

And she matches your color scheme perfectly???

And you choose never to summon her again????

What is the matter with you

Do it for the aesthetic if nothing else!

So lwj and jc are just chillin on the roof watching all this go down but then suddenly wen zhuliu attacks wwx and is about to land a hit on him

ofc that’s when lwj chooses to intervene

Our boy straight up punches through the roof so that he and jc land between wzl and wwx

We get to watch jc choke out wen zhuliu with his zidian which is pretty cool

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, once this happens, LWJ TURNS AROUND AND FACES WWX FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MONTHS

HE JUST GAZES AT HIM??? 

And jc goes in and has a brotherly reunion with wwx and it’s all sentimental

THE YUNMENG BRO HUG HERE, AHH, MY PRECIOUS YUNMENG BOYS

(Why didn't you return the hug properly wwx why)

The look on LWJ’s face at their reunion is so full of yearning!! 

HE WANTS TO HUG WEI YING TOO. HE’S MISSED HIM SO MUCH, HE NEEDS A HUG FROM WEI YING RIGHT NOW

Ofc that doesn’t happen, and actually after a moment, lwj looks away from the scene as if he realizes he’s intruding on an emotional moment

And here we get some fun Q&A time with wwx!! (and by fun, i mean frustrating and emotionally trying)

Jc: were you really thrown into the burial mounds??

Wwx: if i had been thrown in there, would i be here now? Nobody survives that place

WAY TO NOT ANSWER THE QUESTION

Jc: where did they take you? How’d you escape? Why do you look different??

Wwx: *pointedly does not answer the first two questions* have i really changed??

And then, to further distract from the other questions that he totally ignored...

Wwx: if i told you that i found a special book in a secret cave written by a genius recluse, and then studied it to become super powerful, would you believe me?

Ofc jc just rolls his eyes and starts scolding him which makes wwx grin

Wwx: see, you won’t believe me even if i told you. I’ll tell you more later when we get home

Jc looks at lwj here, who up until now had been silently watching them talk, and then turns his attention back to wwx

Jc: fine, we’ll talk later

THEY’RE PURPOSELY EXCLUDING LWJ AS THOUGH HE HASN’T SPENT THE LAST THREE MONTHS FRANTICALLY SEARCHING FOR WWX TOO, I'M SO UPSET

And here’s where it starts to get super heartbreaking bc this is when lan wangji decides to chime in

Lwj: Wei Ying

Wwx: Lan er-gongzi, or should i say Hanguang-jun

WWX IS ADDRESSING HIM FORMALLY AND I DON’T LIKE IT

SINCE WHEN DO YOU CALL HIM ANYTHING OTHER THAN LAN ZHAN???

LIKE, WWX EVEN DID A LITTLE RESPECTFUL BOW AND EVERYTHING

HE IS DISTANCING HIMSELF FROM LWJ

STOP THAT WWX, STOP THAT RIGHT NOW

LWJ: were you the one that hunted all those wens?

Wwx: so what if i was?

Lwj: why did you give up the sword? Answer me.

Wwx: what if i refuse to answer?

AND HE SAYS THAT WITH A SMIRK, A COLD CURL OF HIS LIPS WHERE IT USED TO BE SO TEASING AND FLIRTY

SOMEONE STAB ME IN THE FACE

Lwj reaches out to grab him in response but wwx completely sidesteps him and even places his demon flute between them!!! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING

WWX: lan zhan (oh so NOW you want to call him by his name), we just reunited after so long and you’re interrogating me? That’s not very nice.

YOU’RE BEING MEAN ON PURPOSE WWX

STOP HURTING LWJ’S FEELINGS

Wwx: it’s been months since the Murder Turtle cave...even if you didn’t cherish our relationship as classmates, you shouldn’t be so mean

HE SAYS THIS WITH A MOCKING SMILE

STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT

HE’S NOT THE ONE BEING MEAN WWX

Lwj does not rise to the bait: Answer me.

Wwx: I did already and you didn’t believe me! I can’t explain so much in so few words

Lwj: Then come to Gusu with me and explain it there.

LWJ ASKS HIM TO COME HOME WITH HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME

IT WON’T BE THE LAST

AND IT HURTS EVERY TIME. 

IT DOESN’T GET BETTER

EVERY INVITATION IS SUPER PAINFUL

Wwx: Gusu? With the 3000 rules? No, i refuse! I prefer yunmeng

I HATE THIS

THIS IS ALL AWFUL

Like, wwx is all pouty when he says this? And before it would’ve been all teasing and cute but instead it’s all cold and mocking aND IT HURTS

Lwj: wei ying, don’t joke around

And he angrily steps towards wwx but jc blocks him with his sheathed sword

With jc between them, wwx asks him, “lan zhan, what do you really want?

HE WANTS TO TAKE YOU HOME AND KEEP YOU SAFE AND LOVE YOU FOREVER

THAT’S WHAT HE WANTS

HE JUST WANTS YOU WITH HIM

GOD DAMN IT

But lwj is bad with words so instead of saying ANY of that he goes

Lwj: wei ying, there will be a price for learning wicked tricks; there’s been no exception in all of history. They will harm your body and mind.

HE’S SO WORRIED FOR WWX

STOP DANCING AROUND THE TOPIC LWJ AND JUST SAY YOU'RE WORRIED

Wwx: i didn’t snatch any souls for my tricks so they’re not wicked. I use talismans and play music, how is that wicked?

WWX YOU’RE COMPLETELY MISSING THE POINT

Wwx: and even if they were wicked tricks, i know myself and my limits

AND HE’S SAYING ALL THIS WITH HIS BACK TURNED TO LWJ

WHY IS THIS HAPPENING

Wwx: as for my temperament...i’m in charge of my own mind and i know what i’m doing

Lwj: there are some things you can’t decide on your own!

Lwj is so so worried, he’s snapping at wwx here. It comes off as angry but it’s not anger, he’s scared for wei ying, he’s distressed!!

Now wwx finally walks back to lwj and faces him head on

Oh man, the way they shoot this scene is intense

They only let you see half of wwx’s face bc the other half is obscured by lwj

Wwx: how do others know my temperament? And why should it be their concern?

Just...those words paired with how we can’t see wwx straight on...it hits you in the gut

bc what he really means is “what do you know about me, outsider?”

Lwj: Wei Wuxian (he snaps at him!!)

NOOO DON’T CALL HIM THAT!! DON'T SAY WUXIAN!! YOU ALWAYS CALL HIM WEI YING!!!

Wwx: Lan Wangji (he replies coolly)

STOP ADDRESSING EACH OTHER SO FORMALLY WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME

Wwx: why do you oppose me now? Who do you think you are? What does the lan clan think they are? That you believed i wouldn’t protest?

STAAAAHP

HE’S YOUR SOULMATE!! THAT’S WHAT HE IS!!!

HE LOVES YOU!!! HE WANTS YOU SAFE!!!

And here wen chao regains consciousness (oh yeah, wen zhuliu is def dead but wc was just knocked out until now…)

Oh shit wwx just kicked wc as he starts begging for his life

That was cold. I mean, wc definitely deserved it but wwx is not normally this cruel

WITHOUT EVEN LOOKING AT LWJ, WWX JUST KICKS HIM OUT

Wwx: this is a domestic affair of the jiang clan of yunmeng. Please leave it to us

Lwj looks at him for just a moment before lowering his gaze and walking out solemnly

WHYYYYYY

STOP BEING MEAN TO EACH OTHER

Oh god, and the expression on wwx’s face after lwj’s gone??

HE LOOKS SO TIRED AND DEFEATED

Like it was taking every ounce of effort to maintain that cold distance from lwj this whole time

And to make it MORE heartbreaking--

When the camera zooms in on wwx’s face as he watches lwj leave (again with that empty, defeated expression) we hear wc in the background begging “forgive me, forgive me”

!!!!!!!!

That begging superimposed over wwx’s expression??

IT’S ALMOST LIKE WEI YING HIMSELF IS ASKING LWJ TO FORGIVE HIM FOR WHAT HE’S DOING RIGHT NOW

Idk if the showrunners did that on purpose BUT OW, MY HEART, MY HEART, IT HURTS

And now I’M SOBBING

LWJ is at the gates of wherever it is they found wc, and he stops in his tracks when he hears wc scream

Then he’s just remembering the words wwx said to him

Lan wangji why are you at odds with me now

Who do you think you are

What do you lan clan think you are?

AND HE JUST LOOKS HEARTBROKEN

EVERYTHING HURTS SO MUCH

Then we cut to lotus pier and watch wwx and jc pay their respects to jfm and m-yu

Wwx: you asked me to take good care of jc and jyl, and i did. Rest in peace now.

*UGLY CRYING* JUST STAB ME IN THE HEART WITH A RUSTY KNIFE

IT WOULD HURT LESS

that’s all the wangxiantics for this episode so only one question remains:

WILL I EVER EXPERIENCE JOY AGAIN???

Return to Masterpost

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever - Chapter Six

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Warnings: mentions of cancer and depression

Masterlist

Two months later, I sat in my doctors office and impatiently bounced my leg. I reflected on my past two months in New York. It was June now. Venom and I had fallen into a routine. We’d work on the Cletus Kasady start by day and go patrolling at night. Of course, being Venoms wasn’t a nightly occurrence. We’d only go out eating once or twice a week. Still, we managed to have 11 run ins with Spider-Man.

Peter and I had become significantly closer in that past two months as well. I’d help him with his homework, though I secretly thought he was smarter than me, and he helped me with my story. Some nights, he’d visit me on my fire escape and we’d watch the sun go down. I had no idea how he got there, but I didn’t care. I felt like Juliet and he was my Romeo. I’d send him science puns while he was at school and he’d bring me food and keep me company when I had writers block. My favorite was our long talks on the roof. We would I sit there for hours and tell each other everything. I knew all his secrets and he knew mine. Well, not all. He didn’t know about Venom. I didn’t want to tell him about her just yet in fear of his reaction.

And every now and then, we’d catch the other staring. Then, the other would I stare back until someone, usually Peter, started to lean in. Every time I thought we were finally going to take the next step, something would interrupt us. Whether it was May knocking or Ned barging in or Peters phone ringing. That was another thing about Peter. His damn phone was always ringing and then he’d have to dash off somewhere, leaving me with a random excuse or something about an internship. Sometimes, I wish he’d just throw his phone aside and kiss me.

“I’m okay?” I asked.

“Your scans were all clean. I know the tumor was genetic, but it seemed to skip you. You’re very lucky, Miss L/N.” The doctor informed me.

I knew this day would come eventually. Mary was my age when she was diagnosed with cancer. I just thought the results would be different. Considering my track record, I was a very unlucky person. But somehow, I was cancer free when my beautiful sister wasn’t. I felt my eyes well up with tears. This should’ve been how her doctors appointment went. I shouldn’t have had to hold her hand as she broke down on the floor and cried. We were teenagers. She deserved to live. I got in my car and wiped my tears on the back of my sleeves. I hastily turned on the radio. I needed a distraction.

“But what scares me the most is what if when he sees me, what if he doesn't like it? What if he runs the other way and I can't hide from it?” A sweet sounding country accent sang on the radio sang. I looked at my radio and read the title of the song. It was from the musical Waitress. I was never big on theater but the lyrics sounded as if I could’ve written them myself. The song was right. What if I told Peter who I really was and he ran away? He was sweet and understanding, but how understanding could he possibly be when I tell him I can turn into a flesh eating monster? I turned my radio up and listened to the song.

“What happens then if when he knows me, he's only disappointed? What if I give myself away, to only get it given back? I couldn't live with that.” The song sang. It was true again. What if Peter got to know me and was disappointed? What if he ran away before I even told him about Venom?

“He could be less than kind. Or even worse he could be very nice, have lovely eyes, and make me laugh, come out of hiding. What do I do with that?” The song continued. All those things described Peter. I felt another tear run down my cheek. Not because of what had happened with the doctors visit, but because of the loss of what could’ve been but now can never be.

“Oh, God what if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door and I can't close it?” Peter had opened up a door. I thought Andy was the love of my life. I used to think that if he asked, I’d be his in a second. But I didn’t feel that way anymore. I had finally moved on. I didn’t want to be with Andy anymore. I wanted to be with Peter.

“What happens then if when he holds me, my heart is set in motion? I'm not prepared for that, I'm scared of breaking open.” I silently cried as the song played. I was scared too. I was scared of letting Peter in and him letting himself right out. I was scared of repeating the mistakes I made with Andy. No. I wasn’t scared. I was petrified. I pulled my car over and began to shake with violent sobs.

I swallowed thickly. The song was bringing out new fears in me that I didn’t know I had. It was right. What if Peter didn’t like what he saw? What if he realized I was too messy to be with? Or had too much baggage? Peter deserved a nice girl. One with a normal family and friends. One without depression. One without a flesh eating symbiote attached to their immune system. My friends were my ex-fiancé and his new girlfriend, all my family was dead, Venom was coursing through my veins, and my mental health was ultimately lacking. Was I even good enough for Peter? Was I actually dumb enough to think that I was?

“What’s wrong baby?” Venom asked with concern. She cuddled around my neck and nuzzled into my cheek. I felt her tendrils wiping my tears.

“I can never be with Peter.” I cried. Admitting it felt like a fatal blow to the stomach. Venom tied my hair up with one of her arms and continued to dry my face.

“Why do you say that?”

I thought about it for a moment. I didn’t want to tell Venom that I was feeling insecure. She freaked out on me whenever I said something negative about myself. I didn’t wanna another 100 slide PowerPoint titled “why Y/N L/N is the baddest bitch in the galaxy”. Especially since forty of those slides were just pictures of my butt. I appreciated Venom with all my heart, but I was feeling the kind of insecure that a pep talk couldn’t fix. I needed to figure it out on my own. Instead, I told her a different fear I had.

“Because. Look at us. We’re the only thing keeping each other alive. What if we get separated and die? I can’t become one of those people in Peters life who loved him and then left him. His mom, his dad, his Uncle Ben. I don’t want to die and leave Peter behind. He’s been through enough. He’d be so much better off without me.” I said. I had calmed down enough to talk to Venom. She listened patiently.

“We’re not gonna die. You protect me and I protect you. Nothing will hurt us as long as we have each other.” Venom assured me.

“I can’t protect you like you protect me. I’m just a human. What if something happens to me and you die because of it?” I whimpered. Venom and I both knew I was nothing without her. She could move on and find another host, obviously not a perfect match like we were, but good enough to keep going and be fine. I, on the other hand, was just a reporter. I couldn’t defend myself if I needed to. I was her puppet. She did all the work in battles. I was just the vessel. I knew I was spiraling but I couldn’t get myself to stop.

“Nothing will happen to you, Y/N. I promise. I won’t let it.” Venom swore. I looked up at her and gave her a sad smile.

“I won’t let anything happen to you either.” I said. But I didn’t promise it. I knew I couldn’t promise it. Venom didn’t mind. She nuzzled my cheek again.

“And you can be with Peter. On Klyntar, we mate for life. And I think you’ve found your mate in Peter.” Venom told me.

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’ve become attached to him and will never be happy with anyone else.” Venom said. I let out a shaky breath. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I needed a reason to shut my feelings for Peter down.

“Like soulmates?” I asked.

“Exactly like soulmates.”

I thought about what she said. “What happens on Klyntar if someone is your soulmate but you’re not theirs?”

“Then we go into a cave and mourn until we die alone of heartbreak.” Venom said simply.

“That sounds about right.” I laughed sadly. I took a second to think

“I’m gonna call that guy back.” I decided.

“What guy?” She asked.

“They guy who asked me out at the coffee shop this morning.” I reminded her.

“The one with the stupid hair? Why would you call him?” Venom asked angrily.

“What was wrong with his hair?” I laughed.

“It was blonde. We like brunette.” Venom said with a devilish grin.

“His hair was fine. And I’m gonna call him to say yes to the date.” I said.

“Why would we do that when we love Peter?”

“Because if Peter doenst love us, I don’t want to die of heartbreak alone in a cave.” I admitted.

“He does love you.” Venom protested.

“We don’t know that. It’s just one date. I need to get back out there anyway. I haven’t gone on a date since the night before Andy and I broke up.” I reasoned.

“Fine. But this is a terrible idea and I’m going to complain the whole time and sing the Les Mis soundtrack in your head.” Venom grumbled. This was one of those moments where she felt more like my toddler than my symbiote.

I ran into Peter in the hallway on my way to my room. I hoped he couldn’t tell I had been crying. I gave my face a quick wipe down before I looked at him.

“Hey Y/n! You want to come over later and help me with spanish? I’ll amo you mucho.” Peter asked. I wanted so badly to say yes. But I had to stick my guns.

“Aw I’m sorry Pete. I wish I could but I have a date tonight.” I said. I instantly regretted telling him about the date when I saw the look on his face.

Peter stopped dead in his tracks. His heart sank to the floor. He went from feeling devastated to feeling white hot anger in a matter of seconds

“A date? With who?” He snapped.

“Some boy I met at the coffee shop.” I said weakly.

“Oh.” He said dully. Some boy. Some freaking dirty bitch ass sissy coffee boy asked his girl out. Peter felt like hunting the man down and smacking the shit out of him. Or at the very least, webbing him to a wall leaving him there until he missed the date. Who did he think he was asking Y/n out? Didn’t he know you guys were meant to be? Peter should’ve known though. Y/n was beautiful and it was only a matter of time before someone else asked her out.

“What’s his name?” Peter asked. He wanted to put a name to his new mortal enemy.

“Matt.” I answered.

Freaking Matt. Freaking dirty ass bitch ass thot ass Matt. Was Matt Spider-Man? No. Could Matt treat Y/n as well as he could? Mayhaps. But did he love her as much? No. Did he have inside jokes with her? Could he make her laugh her beautiful laugh just by doing a Captain America impression? No. He wasn’t good enough for her. He couldn’t do the things Peter could do. He was trash. He was a trashy dirty ass rat boy Peter thought.

“Interesting.” Peter deadpanned. Freaking Matt.

“I’ll text you when it’s over and maybe I can help you then. That sound okay, guapo?” I offered. He nodded sadly, not even acknowledging that I called him handsome. Actually, he probably had no idea that I did. He was smart, but only in English.

“That’s fine. I’ll see you later.” He mumbled.

I watched Peter trudge into his apartment and felt a pain in my heart. He seemed so upset all the sudden. It couldn’t be from my date, could it? It’s not like I told him I got engaged or something. It was one little date. Peter has never even made a move. He had no reason to be upset. I brushed it off and went into my apartment to get ready.

Just as Venom said, the date went horribly. We drove back to the apartment in silence afterwards, leaving Matt to clean himself off.

“Why did that happen?” I asked her. I was so mortified from the events of the night but I needed to know why they happened.

“Because he wasn’t your soulmate.” Venom said simply.

“We defiled that boy.” I nearly shouted.

“It happens.” Venom stated.

“It shouldn’t.” I said, shocked at how nonchalantly she was being.

“But it does.”

We rode the rest of the way in silence. I shot Peter a text when I got back to my apartment but fell asleep before he could answer. I woke up a few hours later in a cold sweat and in tears. I didn’t know Peter was listening to my breathing picking up and the small cries of his his name in my sleep with his superhearing.

I had had a nightmare that shook me deeply. It was about Peter, like many of my dreams were. But in this dream, he and I laid injured on the ground. Venom and I were separated and I was bleeding out. I couldn’t do anything to save him. I couldn’t scream for help. And worse, I couldn’t protect him. It caused me great agony to not be able to reach him. I got out of my bed and made my way to the door. I needed to see him. I needed to tell him that I’d been in love with him since the day we met. I didn’t care about my insecurities anymore. I didn’t care about all the things keeping us apart. I only cared about him. I threw all my previous doubts out the window. I loved him. I loved that boy. With every ounce of my beating heart. I loved his messed up eyebrow and his baggy clothes. I loved the permanent bags under his eyes and his sweet smelling cologne. I loved his messy hair and his even more adorable bed head. I loved him in a way that consumed me. He needed to know that. I couldn’t wait another second.

I swung open my door, only to find Peter Parker outside my door in pink Hello Kitty pajama bottoms and a tight white t-shirt. His hand was raised, like he was about to knock.

“Hey.” I breathed. His hair was tousled and sticking up in random places. He looked heavenly.

“Hi.” He said shyly.

“I was just about to go to your door. I had a bad dream.” I said. I was anxious to skip the semantics and cut right to the chase. I love you and I’m yours if you’ll have me.

“Yea, I heard. That’s why I’m here.” Peter explained. That’s not what he wanted to say. I’m always here if you need me. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you. I love you. It’ll be okay. He looked at me funny.

She looked so beautiful he thought. Makeup free, hair a little messy, and nothing but an oversized sweatshirt to cover her figure. Peter recognized the sweatshirt as his own, one she had swiped from his laundry basket because she was freezing while they watched Alien. He felt so honored to know that she slept in it. Peter wondered how many times he could fall in love with her in a short span of time. In the past few seconds, he’d fallen about 15 times. Once for every breath you took. And you were breathing quite heavily.

“You heard?” I asked. How could he had possible heard from his apartment?

“My hearing is excellent. Are you alright?” Peter stuttered out. Please be alright. I’d stop anything that tried to hurt you. I’ll protect you from the storm. Don’t shut me out. Don’t turn me away. Let me love you. I was still breathing heavy and he could tell.

“Um…” I began. I looked behind me at my empty apartment. The darkness looked anything but inviting. I couldn’t go back in there just yet.

“No?” I said. Please dont go. It came out as more of a question.

“No? Do you want to talk about it-“ I rushed into Peters arm and hugged him tightly. He seemed taken aback, seeing as I nearly knocked the wind out of him. But as soon as he found his footing, he wrapped his strong arms around me and held me close. I relaxed in Peters embrace.

“I had a nightmare.” I repeated. “You died and I couldn’t save you.” I’d be dead if something happened to you. Never let me go. I need you. I felt like a little kid being comforted but their mother. Not that I knew what that felt like.

“I know. It’s okay. You’re awake now. I’m here.” Peter said soothingly. I’ve been here the whole time. I will never abandon you. You are safe in my arms. Nothing can hurt you now. I won’t let it. His voice was muffled from being buried in my hair. I pulled back slightly to look at him, still holding on tightly.

“Stay with me?” I asked. Never leave. I didn’t want him to go. Not now, not ever.

“Always.” Peter answered surly. As if I could ever leave you. My lips lit up in a smile and my eyes fell to his lips. They lingered there for too long, or maybe just long enough. Peter took the hint and slipped his hand behind my neck and began to pull me closer. As our lips were about to touch, my door slammed, causing us to jump out of each other’s embrace.

“Shit balls.” I said immediately.

“What?” Peter asked, giggling a little at my choice of profanity.

“I just locked myself out.” I sighed. Peter laughed louder this time.

“Come on. You’re sleeping over.” He said, leading me back to his apartment with the hand on the small of my back.

I entered Peters room for the first time. Sure, we’d become good friends in the time I’ve lived in the building, but bedrooms were intimate places. They were windows into the soul. Oh wait, that’s eyes. Still, most of my hangouts with Peter occurred in his living room, my fire escape, or the rooftop. Our spot. I’d never been in his room before.

I looked around with a content smile on my face. He had an academic decathlon poster on his wall, along with a few Avengers posters. Peter was pretty neat, but he was still a teenage boy. Socks and sweaters were strewn across the room. I saw him kicking a pair of boxers under his desk out of the corner of my eye. His room was so cute. It was so…Peter. I noticed a first aid kit in his desk next to his chemistry textbook and wondered what on earth he could be using it for. I looked at him and smiled.

“I like your room.” I complimented. Peter smiled in relief.

“Oh thank God. I thought you’d take one look at my nerdy ambiance and run.” He admitted. I laughed and my eyes landed in his bed.

“Star Wars bedsheets?” I asked. Peters ears reddened and he fixed his duvet to cover them up.

“Those aren’t mine.” He said quickly.

“Are they Mays? As in May the force be with you?” I played along. He gave me a defeated smile.

“That was the worst thing anyone has ever said. Ever.” Peter said. I laughed and he gave me a shy smile.

“Fine. They’re my bedsheets. Star Wars is cool, okay?” Peter defended. I took a seat on his bed and shrugged.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me Peter. I just didn’t know you were a loser, is all.” I taunted. Peter sat down on the bed next to me and rolled his eyes.

“Very funny. You’re the funniest person I know.” He said sarcastically. I nudged him with my elbow and he and hit me with a Yoda printed pillow.

“Mm. Good with the force you are.” I commented. Peter groaned loudly and told me to shut up.

“Enough playing around. How was your date?” Peter asked. I could hear the pain in his voice. He seemed really upset tonight. I regretted ever telling him about the date. It was a dumb move. It wasn’t right of me to play with his feelings like that.

“Oh, you know. Terrible.” I said slowly. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easy. If Peter really did like me and want to be with me, he needed to say it. He couldn’t just grumble and wallow in self pity when I was with another boy. I was testing him to see if he’d ever actually admit his feelings. But I was also protecting myself. A part of me was still scared there were no feelings to admit to.

Peters eyes lit up instantly.

“Really?” He said excitedly. He cleared his throat and grunted. “I mean, really?” He asked calmly. I bit my tongue and nodded. I gave him my best sad eyes.

“Yeah it was awful. I definitely won’t be seeing him again.” I sighed sadly. I wasn’t sad. I was putting on a show for Peter. Peter bit the inside of his cheek to stop the smile from emerging.

“That’s terrible. What went wrong?” Peter asked. His acting was equally as bad as mine. He had a shit eating grin on his face. He was pretending to be sad for me but he was clearly over the moon.

“It was going fine all night until the kiss.” I sighed dramatically, looking longingly out the window. I might as well have thrown myself onto my balcony and cried out for Romeo. Peter was buying every second of it. I saw his eyes flash with hurt.

“You guys kissed?” He asked. His voice was heavy with disappointment. I looked at Peter sadly. He looked miserable. All I wanted to do was throw my arms around his neck and tell him he was the only one for me. Instead, I kept my feelings to myself and nodded slowly.

“Almost. He leaned in and-“ I just shrugged. I could tell Peter was on the edge of his seat. I dragged it as long as I could.

“And?” Peter asked, practically begging. I let out another long, dramatic sigh. Peter took a slow sip of his water bottle.

“And I threw up on him.” I said simply. Peter spat out the water in his mouth. He burst out laughing and did his best to cover it up. I gave him a fake angry look but ended up laughing as well.

“What?” Peter laughed.

“He was such a tool. He talked down to me the entire night and then had the audacity to try and kiss me. I don’t know what happened but all the sudden he was leaning in and I was throwing up. He deserved it though. He treated me like was an idiot. I’m almost glad I threw up on him.”

Peters was overjoyed. He was about to say something when we heard a straggled cry of my name.

Peter and I rushed to his peephole and saw a familiar blonde haired boy standing in the hallway.

There he was. Matt. Outside my apartment door with his phone on full volume playing “Hungry Eyes” from Dirty Dancing.

“What the actual hell?” I wondered out loud. “I better get rid of him.”

“Y/nnnnnn. I’m sorry I was a jerk. Please talk to me. I told the doorman we were cousins. Then I told the elevator guy that I was your husband. You may need to move now. Y/nnnn.” Matt drunkenly exclaimed. I covered my mouth with my hand to conceal my laughter.

“You definitely can’t go out there. He could have a knife.” Peter said. I gave him a look. Yea, the guy was dumb. But he wasn’t dangerous.

“Or worse.” I said. Peter looked at me fearfully.

“He could have the same loser bedsheets you do.” I gasped. Peter picked up me swiftly and threw me in the couch. I laughed in shock.

“Since when are you so strong?” I asked. Peter shrugged and held out a hand.

“Let’s go to bed.” Peter said. I raised an eyebrow and he quickly added, “In a non-sexual, platonic way.” I laughed at his stupidity. He was so cautious of offending me or making me uncomfortable. I appreciated how much of a gentleman he was. I knew Aunt May had implemented those qualities in him.

“You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. Let me know if you need anything.” Peter said as he made the bed for me. I climbed in and patted the space next to me.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Get in.” I said.

Peter looked at me with wide eyes. He looked very unsure of himself and I could see the panic behind his eyes.

He was torn. He wanted to get into the bed, but he also knew you were vulnerable right now and he didn’t want to take advantage of you. He didn’t want to do anything you’d end up regretting in the morning.

“Get in, in a non-sexual, platonic way.” I added. Peter relaxed but stayed standing. I pretended to splash Peter and twirled my hand around the bedsheets as if they were water.

“Come on in Parker. The waters warm.” I said in a low voice. Peter shuddered.

“I am…repulsed.” Peter answered. In reality, he was dying to get in the bed. He wasn’t gonna try anything, he just wanted to feel you close. He wanted to comfort you and take the pain of the night away. Finally, he got into the bed and pulled the covers up. He shut off his lamp and we fell into comfortable silence.

“Good night, Peter.” I love you. I whispered, turning my back to him and cuddling into his pillow.

“Night, Y/n.” I love you. He whispered back. I felt his eyes on the back of my neck still. He didn’t want to close them and fall asleep. He wanted to stay in this moment as long as he could.

I soon felt hesitant arms wrap around my waist. Peter was very unsure of himself and kept his hands loosely on my hips. We were barely touching. I turned my neck around and looked at him.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded. His hands flew off my waist and his eyes widened with fear. He looked so apologetic, I thought he might cry.

“Do you not know how to cuddle?” I asked before he could blurt out an apology. I grabbed his arms and pulled them tightly around my waist. I held his hands in my own and held them flush against my chest. Peter felt really tense at first and a bit stiff, but he soon relaxed and nestled into my hair.

“You smell really good.” He muttered. I laughed softly against his body. Peter held me even tighter.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, Y/N.” He whispered. He said it so quietly, I figured he thought I had fallen asleep.

“Goodnight, Princess. Sweet dreams.”

I woke up the next morning in Peter Parker’s arms. Subsequently, I wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of my life in Peter Parker’s arms. We were a mess of tangled limbs and hair. But I found myself firmly in his embrace, inhaling his cologne.

Peters eyes fluttered open and we were nose to nose.

“Hi.” I said. A playful smile rested on my lips. He was so pretty in the morning. He didn’t even have to try.

“Hey.” He chuckled. “This is new.” He added. I nodded.

“It is new. Is it okay?” I asked him. I didn’t want to overstep his boundaries.

“Is waking up next to the actual sun okay? Uh yea, Y/n. It’s okay. You can sleep over anytime you like if it means more mornings like this.” He said. Of course he said that. He held all my strings and knew just how to tug them.

I smiled happily at Peter. He gave me a sleepy smile in return.

“Did you really not enjoy that date?” He whispered. Do you want to be with anyone else? I didn’t know why he was whispering. But the look in his eyes told me he was dead serious.

“Not in the slightest.” I answered honestly. Because it wasn’t with you. He looked me firmly in the eyes. I gave him a vague nod.

“Would you…would you want to go out with me sometime? I promise I won’t throw up on you.” He offered. He said the second part as if it was the only way I’d say yes to the date.

“Peter Parker I have waited exactly 64 days for you to ask me that question and you just had to ruin it by promising you won’t throw up on me?” I playfully scolded. Peters eyes lit up

“Is that a yes?” He asked excitedly.

“It’s a yes. It’s always been a yes.”

“Can I-“ he began.

“Don’t ask. Just do it.”

Peter leaned in slowly and I did the same. His lips had just ghosted mine when Aunt May knocked on the door. He bolted out of bed and I sat up.

“Breakfast is ready. Did you clean your room?” Aunt May called from the other side of the door.

“Yes.” Peter called back. I looked around. No he didn’t

“No you didn’t.” She said knowingly. She didn’t even have to see his room to know it wasn’t clean.

“I’ll clean it after.” He groaned.

“I’m coming in.” She said suddenly. Peter and I looked at each other in fear.

“Don’t! I’m naked.” He screamed.

“Fine. But it better be clean after breakfast. And put some clothes in. You should not be naked at 7 am.” Aunt May said. We waited to speak until we heard her footsteps walking away.

I got out of Peters bed as he got up to lock the door.

“Alright. That should buy us some ti-“

The second he turned around, he was met with my lips on his. I had my hands on the sides of his face and my head tilted to the left. I felt Peters eyes flutter shut as his eyelashes tickled my cheeks. He was frozen at first, but slowly wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. I melted into him and he melted right back into me. The kiss was short and sweet, but absolutely perfect.

I pulled away and Peter gave me the softest eyes ever. A grateful smile was on his lips.

“I am so over these interrupted moments.” I breathed. Peters eyes twinkled. The sun was coming through the window and made his brown eyes look like pots of honey. I could stare at them forever.

And then he kissed me again, with confidence this time. He wasn’t ready for the last one since I caught him off guard. I let my fingers tangle in the messy curls at the back of his neck, something I thought I’d only get to dream of doing. Peter groaned slightly into my mouth as I tugged on his hair. He put his hand under my neck and slipped his toungue in my mouth. Who knew Peter Parker knew how to kiss? He tasted like morning breath, speremint chapstick, and something I could only identify as being exclusively Peter. We pulled apart and he looked up at the sky.

“If I wake up and this is all a dream I’m going to fight you.” He said menacingly.

“Did you just threaten God?” I laughed.

“For you? Anthing. I’ll fight anyone for your honor. Jesus Christ can square up.” He promised.

“You’ve gone to far. We need to break up.” I kidded.

“Don’t even joke. I’ve waited too long for this.” Peter said as he wrapped his arms around me.

“I’m only teasing. I’ve waited my whole life for you Parker. I’m never letting you go.” I told him. He burst out in a smile and kissed me swiftly. Then he promptly got down on one knee.

“Will you please be mine, darling? Officially?” He pleaded softly. There was so much hope in his eyes. I pretended to think about it.

“Nah. I’m pretty busy with Matt.” I said. Peter stood up and gripped my hips, pulling me closer. I let out a small gasp.

“I never want to hear his name again. He had the privilege of taking my girl on a date and treated her poorly? He’s a deadman if I ever see him around here. Now, I need you to tell me you’re my girlfriend before my heart explodes. Tell me you’re mine. I won’t believe it until you say it. ” Peter begged. It wasn’t in a demanding, manipulative tone. All of his words were words of love. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his lips.

“Peter Parker, I always have, and always will be, yours.”

Tag List 🏷

@monimiin @truthdaze @honeyccoated @constellationswithapurpose @condy-wants-a-cookie @zipp0flare @vxidnik @maddie-laufeyson @bubblegumholland @the-blindwatcher @pmvelez97 @babymadz @sincereleygmg